#WHY DO YOU NEED THIS WOMAN TO BE DOLLED UP IN MAKEUP AND ERASED OF ALL OF HER DEFINING FEATURES

[vitalvitriol]

people have got to start drawing mona weirder. or at least less "conventionally attractive white woman"-like. please

[yourloveissmydrug]

could you do a sfw readerxbubba fic where the two of you decorate a new mask for him??

Okay funny thing I want to mention first. I started typing and having a layout for what I wanted to write, and had the story down. During the whole process of writing the fic, I was getting my nails done, and grocery shopping. And when I got home I was gonna sit down and fully write it but then I CLOSED ALL THE TABS ON ACCIDENT. And now the first original story is gone but don’t worry💀 I know I know LMFAO but don’t worry I know how the story goes! It’s my first request, and I just wanted to point that out, cuz thought that it was hilarious. Sorry I took so long!!!

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It was a typical Friday afternoon, you were laying on Bubba’s bed reading a seventeen magazine on the hot and humid Texas summer day. You were bored out of your mind and all you could do was stare at the wall or read some magazines Drayton brought home from time to time.

Your boredom grew and grew quicker. Bubba was always busy with his chores and victims. So you spent mostly everyday by yourself until his chores were done.

To make it even worse the heat didn’t exactly help. The fan that gave no to little cool air helped a bit but you still were sweating. You laid there in bed, sweating while reading your magazine, you thought to yourself, could this get any worse? But your saving grace came.

You heard the door knob wiggle and jiggle open, your body perked up in hopes for Bubba. Walking through the door was Bubba! Your whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. Bubba was excited to see you too. But this time it was different. He was more ecstatic than usual, and it made you curious. He held out one of his victim’s face with jazz hands. You giggled at his quirky humor, while he snorted along with you.

You were quite confused on why he had one of his victim’s faces with you, but it’s Bubba. He’s unique and not like everybody else, which is why you are very fond of him.

You take a good look at the face and realize it’s a female’s face. Being a newly member of the family, you were still getting use to Bubba’s mannerisms, sometimes it left you confused but you’d followed along with whatever he does.

“So, is this for me?” You question softly with baby doll eyes.

He shook his head no, he took the mask away from you. He grabbed your hand, and walked you towards his crafts table where he works on all of his little gadgets and fine arts he makes.

“You want me to decorate the mask for you?”

Again, Bubba shook his head no. He pointed to you and himself. You finally understood what he meant. It’s hard to understand Bubba, he doesn’t speak words exactly. He mumbles, squeals and says gibberish where nobody can understand except for his brothers.

“You want to decorate the face together?” You asked while trying to hide your blushy cheeks from him.

He nods his head in excitement as you guess right. Now that you had agreed to decorate the face with him, he squeals in pure joy.

He pulls out a chair for you like a gentleman would at his table. He hovers over your whole body to see what will you do first. He’s very eager to do this with you.

“I really love your pretty fancy mask, but it’s been used for so long, hasn’t it?” You ask him.

He nods his head while he puts his hands on your shoulders to give him support while watching you.

“Let’s make you a new one, how about that?”

Bubba couldn’t agree more! Anything you do he loves, and is down for. Bubba wears his fancy pretty masks when he is either eating dinner with the family or going on a very special hunt for a victim. He needs to look his best, and looking his best is a main priority to him.

Looking at the blank canvas of the face that could be filled with creative designs and makeup, you questioned what to start with, but it immediately popped in your mind, blush! You grab a vibrant pinky blush. You dab lightly on the cheeks to not have such a bright pink that looks cakey and awkward. Bubba is amazed at how you applied the blush so subtly that looked so soft and airbrushed.

Then next is lipstick. You grab a bright red lipstick to go with the blush. You knew exactly what color would work well. You finely apply the lipstick around the lining of the mouth of the mask. It looked like an actual woman’s lips.

But now Bubba wanted to take a bit of control. He grabbed one of the deepest dusky blue eyeshadow he has but before he started, you stopped him and insisted he used a brush instead. You dip lightly in the blue eyeshadow, and started to do slow motions to blend out the beautiful blue. Bubba was intrigued by your technique, he then proceeds to overlap your hand that’s on the brush. He wants to blend the eyeshadow together. Your eyes met and you couldn’t control the smile that was beaming off of your face. You let him take control for a bit.

“Slowly Bubba..” You softly advise him.

Bubba blends in slower and softer motions blending the dark blue eyeshadow on the upper eye. You praise him for his contribution on the eyeshadow, you thought he did beautifully. He lets out a happy squeal for making him feel proud of his work.

You both were proud of what you designed together, but both of you knew something was missing. You both wanted to add something extra! You knew exactly! You wanted to add something edgy yet feminine and feisty to the look. Bubba had a stamper collection full of different patterns and designs. Bubba’s personality is quirky, and sweet. You wanted to showcase his personality on this mask that both of you designed together.

“Let’s put this on the cheek bone of the mask, give it some more pizzazz!” You suggest.

Anything that you do, Bubba is happy and pleased with it.

But this time, you want Bubba to add the finally touch to it. It was a tiny heart stamp that would give the look some sweetness to it. Bubba dipped the stamper in black ink, and you directed towards where he should put it. He then prints the stamper on the cheek bone of the mask. You both are proud of your master piece you both designed.

Bubba twirls your hair in appreciation and talks his gibberish. You have no idea what he is saying, but you find it very charming. You give him a kiss on the cheek when he’s not noticing. This was a moment that you both will remember and cherish forever. He just couldn’t wait to show off his new mask to everybody and tell them that the both of you made it!

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AHHHH, I hope you liked it. I very much enjoyed writing this! Sorry I took like 10 million yearsss, I had a busy day, and accidentally closed all tabs erasing the whole story, but for future requests gonna do them on a Google doc first 💀

[pocketramblr]

im going to be so fucking predictable right now but, for a prompt... how about some momnight

 I'm going to do my Very Best at this though I am very unpracticed with writing her so here we go!

---

"Alright, class. Today we're supposed to do a lesson that follows up on the interviews you did yesterday with Midnight and Mt. Lady. Which means I'm not teaching."

With that, Aizawa-sensei flopped to the ground. The thud was only slightly cushioned by the sleeping bag around him. A few students winced.

"Exactly!" Midnight said, shoving open the door. "This time, we'll be practicing a little more with cameras and a little less with talking."

Oh? The students all leaned in, curious and excited.

"We'll be practicing photo shoots! Come to studio 1-4, come on." She stepped to the side as the class got excited, and just waved Aoyama out the door when he jumped to go ask her a million questions, sparkling.

Toru was excited too, though she took more time to stand than the others. By the time she had, Yaomomo had already dragged the reluctant Jiro out of the room, and all that remained were Bakugo and Koda.

"Not going to be the last one there, I hope, Bakugo?" Midnight asked, tone of voice edging into a tease.

Bakugo grumbled about it being stupid, but he did hurry more out the door.

"And you, Koda? Nothing to be scared about, the camera doesn't bite." But their teachers sure might, if they dawdled- or interrupted anymore of Aizawa's extended naptime.

"Right!" Toru agreed, skipping to the back of the room to reach for the boy's arm. "Come on, it'll be a fun lesson! Better than a pop quiz, and maybe you'll even get to do a cute picture, like holding a bunny!"

Koda stared at her sleeve for a long moment, then finally nodded.

When they passed Midnight at the door, Toru looked up and realized the woman's smile had slipped a little; she looked thoughtful, brow furrowed behind her glasses.

The smile came back quickly though, as she tugged the door closed behind them and hurried them to the studio where the class was waiting for them.

Haya-senpai was also waiting for them, apparently. The cool girl stood in front of a group of third years by the side wall of the room, where several desks and mirrors and lights had been shoved in a row. The rest of the room was cleared out, backdrops and green screens angled around with a few stools and props.

"Alright, class 1a, before we get ready for your first shoot, there are some things to know." Midnight closed the door behind her. "You can take notes on your phone, if you want. There are several different kinds of photoshoots. What ones can you think of?"

"Ooh!" Mina waved her hand and was called on. "There's magazine photoshoots, and if you're lucky you'll be on the front page!"

"Certainly, magazine shoots. What else- Yaoyorozu?"

"Advertisements, with products?"

"Very good, you've done some of that already, haven't you? Alright, what other kinds?"

Toru waved her arm, humming so she'd be more noticed. Midnight crooked her finger at her. "Makeup? Well I guess that could be a product too, but there's also fashion shoots."

"Right on, Hagakure."

The class was quiet for a few moments, and Midnight nodded. "There's other kinds too- a headshot shoot, some hero agencies will require them for an application or their site. Portraits, lifestyle, sports, glamor, portfolio- the point is, there’s different types, and different points to each of them.”

Tsuyu raised a hand, and got a nod. “Midnight, all the different types, but don’t they boil down to either work use- like the headshots- or publicity for everything else?”

“That’s not a bad way of looking at it, Asui,” The teacher tapper her cheek as she paused, “But there’s more than that. You could also be doing it for benefit of others, either like a charity calendar photos, or perhaps even as a favor for a friend if one of them asks for a photo op.”

“And if,” Bakugo spoke up, apparently at the end of his patience for waiting for an explanation, “we don’t care about that crap? Publicity? If we haven’t got any friends who just want to take pictures of us?”

Midnight’s smile stretched, just a little, like a smirk. “Not a bad question. Anyone else think they have an answer?”

No one spoke, looking at each other, then Iida raised his hand.

“Midnight-sensei! Regardless of wanting to do publicity or charity or not, an agency may require to and all parts of a hero career should be done as exactly as one can, whether or not you want to-”

Midnight coughed. “Not bad, Iida, but not what I was thinking of. Bakugo, everyone, consider it like this. Once you become a hero- before that, even- you are going to have publicity. You are going to have paparazzi. Your photos are going to end up in ragmags no matter what you do.” She emphasized those words with a tap from her whip to her palm. “But, you can decide how you present yourself in other media. Sure, you can go way underground like Eraser. Or, you can take control of your representation. Choose your own photographers, magazines, products, vlogs, anything. That’s why you have to learn how to do these photoshoots and other media courses.” She clapped her hands, and the third years jumped. “So, we start with makeup.”

The older students waved some of her classmates forward, and Toru pushed Koda forward so he’d sit.

She found herself watching them get makeup put on, holding Iida’s glasses for him while Haya mused with his hair. Next to him, a senior was marking lines under Uraraka’s eyes to make the lashes pop.

“That looks really cute!”

“Thanks!”

“Do you mind me using a bit more foundation here?” Another senior said, poking at Midoriya. “It’s not quite even, but some of your freckles are showing through still.”

“Uhh,” Midori said, eloquently. 

The older student raised his eyebrow. 

“Um, actually, its,”

“It’s what, Midoriya?” Midnight asked, stepping from out of nowhere to peer over his shoulder at his mirror.

“It’s fine!” The makeup didn’t completely hide how red his face went.

Their teacher met his gaze in the reflection, clicking her tongue. “Come on, what did I say the point of the lesson was?”

“Um, control?” Midoriya asked, then went “Oh.”

Midnight smiled, straightening back up.

“I’d like my freckles to be- to not be covered up. Please.” Midoriya was still red, but the senior just shrugged.

“Alright. I’ll darken them with this then instead, so they actually show well under the lights and all that.”

He nodded, relaxing back in his seat, and Midnight squeezed his shoulder before moving on, nodding at Iida before looking at her.

“Hagakure, you haven’t gotten someone to start makeup yet?”

Toru shook her head- and shoulders. “No, Sensei. It’s not like I’ll show up on camera anyway, so.” She kept her voice cheerful, but her smile faltered halfway through.

It was fun to watch everyone else get dolled up and decorated... but would probably be fun if she could join them too.

Midnight stared at her, and she couldn’t read the expression before the teacher shook her head. “No, no. You’ll still have to participate and I have an idea!” She took Toru’s hand, then led her to the seat next to Uraraka.

Toru couldn’t keep the startled giggle from bubbling up as she sat.

“Midoriya,” Midnight said, riffling through the makeup on the desk, “You heard Hagakure. What do you think she could do in a photoshoot like this?”

“Hm.” Midoriya considered it, but when he answered he sounded much more confident than he had earlier. “Well, she’s invisible, but anything on her wouldn’t be. You could play with elements like dust or sparkles to suggest shape in an interesting way- oh, if you don’t mind being in your hero suit, that is.”

Midnight hummed an affirmation. “There’s a lot you and your team could do with that, and body paint is a fun medium to work with.” She paused, then leveled an eyeshadow brush at Toru like it was her whip. “Only when you’re eighteen, though. What do you think, Uraraka?”

“You could use your quirk, you know, to shine?” The brunette waved a hand. “Lighting up in different places to outline you, maybe, it’d look really cool if you had a space-y dress or something with it.”

“Oooh,” Toru had to admit that would be fun. It’d need a dark background and probably a camera without a flash or something, but it would be a picture of her, using her own quirk.

“Or like, even a space suit or something alien!”

“As long as I don’t upstage Mina!”

Midnight decided on something, then turned back with a nod, eyes sparkling. “Those are good ideas. Now, I’m going to try something with eyeshadow on you. Tell me when your eyes are closed.”

Toru closed her eyes as asked. “They are now, Midnight.”

If the point of this lesson was control, she wasn’t quite sure that this counted since she was just letting someone else do it, but Toru didn’t mind. She had a couple new ideas bouncing around for real photoshoots, in the future, and she really wanted to see what her teacher came up with.

She’d been right, this was fun.

It tickled a little, when Midnight traced eyeliner all on the sides of her face, but Toru managed to keep her face still enough. Then came brushes and colors she couldn’t see, shapes she could feel but not recognize.

Finally, the touches to her face stopped and she heard the brush clatter on the table.

“You can open your eyes now.” Midnight said, moving out of the way between the chair and the mirror. 

Toru gasped, then stood so she could lean closer to her reflection.

Her teacher had painted elaborate designs over both her eyes, branching out like butterfly wings. They shimmered with many neutral tones, light and brown and pink between the black lines. A few sparkles were touched heavier on the ends, and overall they looked beautiful.

“Oh! Guys, look!” Toru turned, and Uraraka gasped too, clapping.

“Those look so pretty!”

“Right? Thank you so much, Midnight-sensei!”

The hero laughed, waving a hand. “You’re very welcome. You’ll have to work with the photographer to decide how to model it on your own though. Speaking of...” She checked the clock on the wall. “Fifteen minutes left! Get to pictures then washing off.”

She walked off down the row again, checking on the other students, though not before she squeezed Toru’s shoulder for a second when she passed.

Toru was beaming as she asked for a senior with a camera to work with her, and she ended up with a picture of herself winking- one eye open to show the full butterfly, the other closed to show the colors swirled on the eyelid too. 

It looked pretty, and it looked fun. It felt like a perfect picture.

[kileyrose-2003]

Jenny Lind x Fem! Reader

A/N: Hello lovelies! This wasn't really a request but more something I decided to write for my dear friend @merci-bitch If you guys like this enough, maybe I'll open up request for Jenny.

I haven't been that well with my stress levels and mental health lately and she's been there to ground me and keep me as sane as I can possibly be. This is for you Tina. I love you and appreciate you and sincerely hope you enjoy this. Side note for all the people who have requested fics from me, I have not forgotten you. I know I'm behind and I will be getting to all of you eventually. Love you all and I hope you are all well. Stay safe, lovelies!

Warnings: Sexual content, implied mentions of self harm.

"...May I now present the most beautiful bird of song in our ring. Miss Y/n Y/l/n." The crowd cheered wildly as you stepped on stage. The spotlight making you sweat through your millions pound of caked on makeup as you forced a dazzling grin.

They say Phineas is The Greatest Showman but really if there was a true actor among people in the circus, it was you. To the crowd you came off as this charismatic, happy go lucky girl but you were far from that.

You were happy once but that seemed a dream now, hanging off far in the distance with all the stars shining in the sky.

You were born into a family of the musically elite. Your mother was a lyricist and your father, a prominent composer. For the first few years of your life were fairly pleasant.

You never wanted for anything and anything you desired within reason but something was always off when your parents were together. Exchanges of words that were once long and loving and had exchanges of pet names on the end of it were a thing of past and you couldn't help but wonder what happened. What changed.

They simply couldn't love each other anymore and then came the next two years of hell. The divorce. It was painful and confusing seeing two people who loved you fighting over you. Neither of them budging on which one would have primary custody of you.

You didn't feel like a person anymore. You felt like an object. A doll that only either of them wanted when they felt in the mood to play house. Because no man or woman that either of them dated would want to deal with their "baggage"

That's what you were. You were baggage. It killed your self esteem. Made you feel weak. Made you feel useless. Because if your own family looked at you like that, certainly you were useless, weren't you?

Desperation and depression set in and you wanted to find a way out. Find an escape to some place warm and kind where you could cry and have someone listen to you. Tell you 'I hear you' and 'I believe you'. You tried to find that place. Sometimes in the worst ways you could but you failed. Luckily.

When people would ask why you wanted out. Why you didn't want to deal with it anymore it was hard to talk about it. Because no one believed you. No one ever believed you about of the things your parents girlfriend or boyfriend said to you or what they did to you. No one ever believed you when you said you were hurt or needed a hug. The moment you would try to talk about what made you sad or angry you'd be brushed off to the side like a piece of garbage and so you refused to their answer their questions on why you wanted it to end, and learned the art of smiling.

You quickly learned people liked it when you smiled and acted preppy and in ways, you enjoyed it too. There weren't as many questions you were asked and had to answer and you were fine with that. It didn't make you feel any better though. At the end of the day when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you didn't see yourself. You didn't know who your reflection was besides a lie. An empty shell of yourself you wanted to curl up into and just cry.

You went on like for a while until you turned 16. That was when the "accident" happened. You could still remember it so clearly in your mind. Going to visit your father and finding a trail of crimson on the cake white tile flooring. A red hue that would never truly be erased from how ironic you found the colors to be. The white being the small tattered piece of childhood innocence you once held onto so tightly slowly fading away with the red which shone of what horrible events happened before you got there before you even see what happened.

It truly was only you and your mom after that and you were never the same. Hearty laughs you would bark out at jokes that once made you laugh were replaced by a fake giggle and no longer did you even bother with smiling. You were hurting and because you were hurting, your mom hurt too. Reality finally setting in on the fragility of your mental state that no person or form of tenderness could fix and even after everything your parents put you through it hurt you to see your mom hurt.

You ran away from home not long after that. Phineas was the one who found you on the street, dirt matted in your hair and a mess in every way imaginable. He was kind to you. Offering you a warm meal and a family and so you let him take you back home with him.

It took you a while to get used to the Showman's antics but you eventually got used to it. Though you never got used to his wife though, Charity. Something about the woman just rubbed you the wrong way. She always seemed so stiff but she was motherly in a way and you eagerly accepted her affection. The two of them built up your confidence. Made you feel at least somewhat whole again and not as empty.

When Phineas first brought up the idea of the circus, Charity thought it was ridiculous. You didn't though. You found it unique.

"And what would you provide for entertainment? Bafoons?!"

"People of talent my dear. Acrobats, swordsman, tightrope walkers, you name it you can find it!"

"And where would you find these people? Do we even know anyone talented to enough to even provide a simple song."

"I-i can sing." Your voice was sheepish and made the couple stare at you as if they never even seen you before. "What?"

"I-i can sing. Both my parents were musician. I was raised around music." When the shock finally fell off of Phineas' face he managed to form a full sentence. "Can-can you show us?"

You nodded and took a deep breath in and sang a bit of opera you remembered from your childhood. "..Il n'a rien dit, mais il me plaît."

"Stop! Stop!" You jumped at the abruptness of his words and waited for a response. "Y/n, why didn't you tell either of us you could like this before?"

"You like it?" You were in shock. Besides Phineas and Charity, no one ever really recognized your talent before and you never thought it was anything to brag about. "Like it, is an understatement my dear. You have the voice of angel."

"Well I guess you found your singer," Charity mused sipping a cup of tea. 

It wasn't long after that Phineas started posting help wanted signs around the city. You were there with him through the entire process. Sitting through some of the best and worst auditions you'd ever heard.

Charity was skeptical of the whole thing at first but she eventually came around. Attending most of your performances and comforting you back stage before you went on. For the first time in the longest time, you felt complete. Like you had a family and people who loved and cared about you.

The show became a hit and eventually you moved into your own apartment but you stayed close with Phineas. You were one of the first ones to find out about the Queen's Invitation to the palace.

" ..Phineas, Phineas! I know I told you I signed up for this so whatever you dealt my way, I'd deal with, but this. I did not sign up for this." You chased after the showman as he threw clothes in your suitcase.

"Nonsense, my dear. The Queen calls upon us to grace her presence and what she wants, she shall receive." The smile on his face was obnoxious and you wanted to smack it off.

"Yes but Phineas, I don't know anyone there and you know how I get around new people." You looked down at the ground, trying to hide just how small you were feeling in the inside.

Phineas stopped what he was doing and took your hands in his, fatherly gaze gleaming in his eyes. "I know but you know me. Think of it like a show. That's all it is. All you have to do is smile, greet people as you normally. If you get, perform as you normally would, sing, floor the audience with your incredible voice and then we go home. If I didn't think you could do this, I wouldn't ask you to come with me."

The grin he gave you made you feel warm inside and you let out a throaty noise. "But what will I wear?"

"Don't worry about that." You rolled your eyes as he carried your trunk out of your room. "When are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow." Your eyes widened. "Tomorrow?!"

"Royalty doesn't wait for excellence." You let out a groan and looked at yourself, seeing that girl again. The girl you locked away a long time ago, never wanting to see her again but today she made herself prominent and you hated it. "Fuck off!" You put your hands over your face and let out a sigh. You really didn't want to do this but you made a promise to when you joined the circus that you'd do something better with yourself, make something of yourself and now you had that opportunity laying in front of you on a silver platter. "God help me make it through this.."

....

The palace was even prettier than you could imagine. The lighting from the ceiling cascaded all around, highlighting the gold trim on some of the paintings. You caught a glimpse off your own necklace and it reminded you of being on stage. The lights shining down on you. You were next to be announced and all the sudden it felt as if the world came crashing down around you.

"May I present, Miss Y/n Y/l/n."

In that moment it felt as if the entire world had their eyes on you stood their for a moment, your body stiff and stuck in the moment. 'This can't be real. None of this is real.'

You could see the other guest staring at you for a few seconds until you heard your name being called. "Y/n! Y/n, come here." Phineas. You pulled yourself out of your trance and walked over as elegantly as you could, trying not to make your anxiety evident.

"Yes, Phineas?" A butler came by with a tray of champagne and you quickly took the glass, holding it up to your lips as if it was a comfort mechanism. "Y/n, there's somone I want you to meet."

'How lovely,' You thought to yourself and took a sip of the liquor. "This, is Jenny Lind." The red head infront of you smiled and you nearly choked on the alcohol. "How do you do?" You stood their for a moment with lack of words. She was probably one of the most beautiful women you ever seen. Her red hair complementing her olive green eyes and her white dress creating this aura of welcoming glow around her yet left you questioning what thoughts layed in that pretty little head of her because something to told you the woman infront of you wasn't as angelic as she seemed.

"Very well, thank you," You finally managed to mumble after a while. The other woman eyed you up and down as if she was analyzing you. "Y/n is a singer as well, Ms. Lind."

"A singer you say? How lovely. Perhaps we can do a piece together sometime, dear. I am told to be quite the piece of work." Her eyes interlocked with yours and you felt your cheeks growing red, letting out a slightly nervous giggle.

'Piece of work isn't even the right word for it.' You thought to yourself. Phineas seemed to pay no mind to what Jenny said and she smiled. "I'm sure she'd love that, wouldn't you Y/n?"

"O-of course.." You muttered. "Then I'll make it a point to see you again before the evenings events come to an end. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have some matters to attend to. It was a pleasure Mr. Barnum, Miss Y/n." She gave you a nod of acknowledgment and you laughed nervously as she was walked away.

"She's lovely isn't she?" The corners of your lips twitched into a smile. "That she is." Yours and Phineas' eyes interlocked and he gently patted your back. "Are you okay?"

"Of course, why?" You smiled. "You just seem a bit off, my dear." You waved your hand dismissively. "I'm just tired, that's all. I'm sure the liquor isn't helping any either," You chuckled and Phineas nodded in agreement. "Tis true, you are a tiny little thing and people with such delicate stature as your own tend to be a bit light weight it comes to liquor. Would you like to get some fresh air?"

"Please." You nodded and Phillip took your arm. "Come on, I'll take you out." You clung onto his arm tightly, breathing in deeply as the cold air brushed against the sides of your face. "You're alright?"

"Yes Phillip, I'm fine." He nodded hesitantly. "Alright..if you need anything let me know."

"Sure," You mumbled softly and leaned against the balcony. You heard him walk away and breathed a sigh of relief. Rubbing your face and staring out at London. The lights though far away burned so bright and you felt small.

"You know, I've made a lot of people flustered in my life but never have I seen someone react the way you did." You spun around to look at Jenny and coughed. "Y-you scared me."

"If that's what you want to call it sweetheart, sure. We can call it that." You smiled and blushed slightly. "What do you want Jenny?"

"To chat." You heard her heels clicking against the floor and the singer moved dangerously close to you, looking out in the distance. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" She gestured to all of London.

"It is. I've never seen anything like it before." She furrowed her brows. "You've never left America before this?"

"Never..but I'm glad I did."

"Did you not want to come initially?"

"To be frank, yes..I guess you could say I'm a little shy. Large crowds terrify me. There's something about the crowd though with singing that makes me feel at ease. Like it's the one true way I can express myself."

Jenny eyed you up and down as if she was inspecting you and smiled slowly. It was unsettling grin at first but you felt at ease when she brushed your cheek with your thumb. You just this woman? Why were you so comfortable with her?

"I think all singers can relate but someone as beautiful as yourself shouldn't be afraid of the crowd. For it's all the more people that love and adore you..and I my dear, already adore you?"

The way the light glistened on her face made your stomach flutter and it felt as if in that moment, you and Jenny were the only people alive. She leaned forward as if she was reaching out to touch you.

"Miss Lind!"

"What?" Phillip. "Miss Lind, Mr. Barnum-"

"Tell Mr. Barnum, I'm preoccupied with his lovely singer and I shall be with him in a moment." Phillip looked surprised by her attitude and nodded. "Sure..my apologies."

"It's fine, Phillip. We'll be out in a minute." You smiled and gave a slight wave as he walked away. Jenny let out a groan. "Is he always like that?"

"Sometimes but he means well. They all do. Phineas, he's like a father too me. Always has been and always will be."

"Is he married? Actually are either of you married?" You looked at the Swedish Nightingale, slightly boggled by the question. "H-he is but I'm no-"

"Such a same. For a tyrant he seems like a nice man." You felt yourself growing slightly annoyed with Jenny and was taken off guard when she cupped your face. "You both seem like such nice people. Phineas doesn't deserve you."

"I-"

"If you ever need me, this is my address. I'd like to keep in touch after this whole function, darling girl." You blushed and Jenny laughed. "My, you are such a precious creature and one so beautiful and rare for the eyes to behold."

"Y-you flatter me."

"I can tell. Come, darling. I'd hate to keep your beloved Phineas waiting longer he has..."

...

"..Oh please, don't be daft Phineas!" You downed another glass of wine as Jenny laughed, trying to become oblivious to the tension that was radiating from the two people next to you. "I don't mean to cause a row, Miss Lind but my proposition was for you to come for us. Not for you steal away my top singer."

"Well you're trying to steal me away from my own obligations so wouldn't it be fair to offer the same?" The smile on Jenny's face was sarcastic and you could see Phineas' face turning several shades of red. Jenny lifted up your chin with her index fingers. "She is quite darling, Mr. Barnum. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, she is and she's her own person who makes her own decisions. Am I correct, Y/n?" You nodded limply, seeing the tension in his eyes. "Which is exactly why I offered her. Because she can make her own decisions." Her eyes were full of lust and you tensed as you felt her caress her cheek. "What do you think, darling? Doesn't a life in Sweden sound nice?"

You felt Phineas' eyes burning daggers into you as if it was a test of your faith even though he knew very you knew where your alliances laid yet you found yourself so drawn to Jenny. "I mean-" You let out a giggle, attesting to your drunkenness. What was muttered between the two next, you didn't know. You glanced over at Phineas who snapped his fingers. "Yes sir?"

"Will you take Y/n back to her room please? I'm afraid she's been spent for the evening. Aren't you, my dear?" You nodded in agreement. "Sure. Goodnight, Jenny."

"Goodnight, darling." She kissed your hand. "You know where to go if you need to find me?" You met her eyes as if to say yes and left with Phillip.

What happened after you left, you would never know. All you could remember was someone changed you into y/f/c nightgown and being woken up by the heavy treading of feet down the hall followed by the sound of numerous voices. You were still slightly drunk and were too dazed to pick them up but you could hear what they were saying.

"So what she did say when you offered?"

"She refused, of course! I don't know what to do at this point. I can't force her to come and I'm certainly not going to just give up Y/n. She's family."

Eventually after a while the voices faded away and you laid in bed, staring up at the egg shell white ceiling. The words replaying over and over on your mind. Surely Jenny was quite flirtatious with you but she didn't mean anything serious. Did she?

Memories of how she caressed your face so tenderly ran through your mind and you felt yourself swelling up inside with what was a mix of lust and adoration.

You didn't have to be around her for a while to take the hint she was a good time girl but it was driving you mad. You had to know and you had to know now. You turned the lamp on in your room and searched through your trunk, pulling out a pair of flats and slipped them on. Not even bothering to change out of your pajamas. You still had the address of where Jenny was staying hidden in your bra and you took the paper out, memorizing the street and room number before grabbing your room key. The halls of the hotel were completely and you glanced at the old grandfather clock at the end of the hall.

"3 AM." You shrugged, quietly walking downstairs. The lobby was completely empty with most of the lights off but it didn't bother you. What mattered was making it to Jenny.

Rain was pelting down from the lit up sky, the light illuminating the cool liquid that caressed your cheek. You shivered slightly from the cool breeze outside but pushed it aside. Walking through the wet streets on London.

You were getting soaked and you were sure your y/f/c nightgown was becoming see through but you paid it no mind. 'Jenny will probably enjoy it,' You thought snidely. Her hotel came into sight and you walked past all the rooms until finally finding her room number. Ever so hesitantly you knocked on the door.

There was pause, an agonizingly long one. You debated on knocking again when the door swung open. Even with bed messed hair and scantily dress she was still one of the most beautiful women you ever seen.

Her eye makeup was smeared, highly the disdain in her eyes. "What the hell are you doing here? It's three in the morning." Her voice came out as low growl and you found yourself surprised. Her voice was so smooth the entire evening and you could never picture it being as nasty as it was now.

"Can we talk?" You asked softly. "At three in the morning?! Wow darling, you must truly be desperate." You seen her eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat and you shifted uncomfortably as you seen her eyes eagerly sizing up your breast.

"Maybe but does it matter?" Jenny let out a humming noise. "I suppose it doesn't. Very well, come in my sweet."

You stepped inside and Jenny shut the door before tossing a nightgown at you. "What's this for?"

"Because you're soaked. You might of pissed me off but how well mannered would I be to leave you cold and wet?" You shrugged, as if silently saying yes to what she was saying and turned your back as you stripped your clothes off.

Changing into the warm outfit. You could feel her eyes like little beads on the back of your neck but said nothing. Not knowing what you would even say to her. The situation was incredibly awkward as it was and you didn't want to make it any worse.

You turned around as you finished changing and Jenny smiled at you. "That's better." She sat down on one of the sofas and you followed her motion. "Now, tell me darling. What brings you here so late? Did the tyrant send you as a ploy or are you seeking out for a new..experience?"

The words came out so voyeuristically you had to do everything in your power not to shudder. 'What a milf.' You thought to yourself before responding. "Neither."

"Oh? Enlightenment me, Y/n. For now, I'm curious."

"I want you to come with us." Jenny laughed. "Phineas must be truly desperate." Her expression was so snide and you wanted to smack her across the face. "Actually, I want you to come."

Jenny choked on the water she was drinking. "Me, come with you? My dear, the offfer was you come with me."

"Yeah well, compromise is needed in both love and war. Don't you agree, Miss Lind?" You met her eye with a certain sassy glance Jenny found so attractive. "We're off first name basis?"

"We are negotiating business, aren't we?" She hummed softly and smirked. "Yes, we are...give me one reason why I should come with me. I am a very busy as you know. I know Chopin, people at the Music Academy.."

You said nothing and Jenny grew impatient. "Speak!"

"I-i feel connected to you..like I can trust you." She laughed. "Oh darling, do you honestly think I'm going to fall for that?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at her. "I'm speaking the truth!"

"Are you sure it's not for another reason?" Her eyes found their way back down to your chest again and you cringed. Jenny stood up and placed two of her fingers underneath your chin, caressing your cheek with her other hand. "You are quite the precious thing. Aren't you? My precious thing."

"I-i belong to no one." You tried your hardest to sound firm but knew it wasn't working. "Sure you don't. When do we leave, darling?"

"Y-you're going to come with me?!" Your eyes lit up with pure joy. "Only because you asked so nicely." She climbed into bed and held her arms out for you. "What are you doing?"

"It's three in the morning and I'm sure darling Phineas won't be looking for you a while. Now come." Hesitantly you slipped into bed next to the older woman, letting her run her fingers through your hair. You knew it wasn't right but it felt so nice just to be there in that moment. Could you be having..feelings for her?

....

To say yours and Jenny's friendship was a peculiar one was an understatement. No one could wrap their heads on the dynamic between the two of you. The two of you were surely best friends as wherever you went, Jenny was and vice versa but the two of you were very physically affectionate with each other.

Jenny always kissing your cheek before she would leave the seem and it seemed more often than not the two of you were either holding hands or hugging each other.

Not that the others minded but they just couldn't quite wrap their heads around it and you always seemed to have an excuse for her when people would ask why she was always all over you.

"I just think she's trying to be sweet." You smiled as you sat down next to Anne after one of the shows.

"I think she's trying to be a milf." You furrowed your brow at Anne. "What do you mean?" She shrugged. "Have you not seen all the people that come in and out of her trailer?"

She was your partner. It was hard not to notice or know about how much of a flirt she was, especially towards Phineas, but it was none of your business anyways as far it was your concern. You and Jenny worked on a policy that the other wouldn't ask unless you wanted to tell and you were fine with that.

Screw what other people thought and if you're happy shouldn't they be happy for you?

...

"So I started working on a new piece-" Jenny hummed as the two of walked hand and hand towards the piano. "I don't know what to call it yet but I guess that doesn't matter now though. You well be happy to know that I thought you of you since there are a-" She tapped her finger on the piano. "F5's in here."

You smiled and looked at the woman sitting down in front of you. "I want you to work on this with me. Critique me."

"Oh no, Jenny! I couldn't possibly-"

"Do you know what one of the main claims made by successful musicians and writer's are? They listen to the criticism of others so you can and you will, now sit down." She commanded, patting the empty space next to her on the stool. You quickly did as she asked, not wanting to make her mad and straightened her posture. "You'll do the soprano section and I'll do the alto."

"Yes ma'am." You hummed softly. You noticed a little smirk forming on the sides of Jenny's lip and you bit down on your lip, trying your hardest not smile. "Now, 1 and 2-"

Her long, nimble fingers hit the keys on the lower part of piano and your voices met in harmony. "Everything went wrong, and the whole day long I'd feel so blue. For the longest while, I'd forget to smile, then I met you. Now that my blue days have passed, Now that I've found you at last."

Your echoed her words and Jenny smiled. "With a love that's true always. When the things you've planned. Need a helping hand, I will understand always."

"..Always." Jenny turned to look at you and for a moment you could of sworn you seen a look of something other than lust in her eyes and she leaned towards you.

Despite your inner voice screaming at you stop what you moved closer to her, your lips nearly brushing with her plump reddened ones before she pulled.

"Oh god..I'm sorry. That was-that was inconsiderate. I-i don't know what came over." Jenny's laugh was almost brimming on nervousness and you had to try your hardest not to frown. "I-it's okay. I wasn't thinking either."

Jenny stared deeply into your eyes and for a second you could of sworn you seen a glimpse of love in her eyes.

"I should leave." You shook your head. "No, no! Stay, Jenny. Please, I insist." She shook her head. "No, no, no. This would be inappropriate of me to do."

"Aren't we already inappropriate?" She narrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not blind, Jenny. Nor am I deaf. The others ask me things about us. Why you touch me so much."

"Y/n, my dear, this a step above us holding hands. This is kissing. We are partners. It would never work." She growled. "But you love Phineas, do you not?"

Jenny looked at you almost betrayed and stood up. "That doesn't matter right now! I overstepped my boundaries and made you uncomfortable. Now if you'll excuse me."

"But Jenny-"

"No buts, Y/n. Please! You're just making this harder on yourself but me as well. For us to do this, we would have to live a lie. Do you want to live a lie, Y/n?"

"But aren't we already living a lie as it is?" For the first time since you met Jenny Lind, you could of sworn you could seen that she was at a loss of words. For once.

"Yes, I mean- No! No, we are not! I love Phineas! I want to be Phineas!"

"Then if you love him, then why would you of tried to kiss me?" Jenny's cheek turned cherry red as if she was child caught in the midst of stealing a sweet. "He's married, Jenny! And he's not leaving his wife anytime in the foreseeable future. You're setting yourself up for heart break and I love you Jenny and I want you to be happy!"

"If you love me you'll let me do what I need to do! Now if you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to." She stormed past you.

"Jenny, I'm telling you-"

"And I'm telling you, to let me do what I do best.." She grabbed the sides of your face, staring deeply into your eyes before kissing your forehead. "Now if you'll excuse me, for the last and final time."

The singer walked past you. Leaving you with millions of unanswered questions and emotions. Did she love you? Did you love her? You didn't even know anymore. You walked out of your rehearsal space, nearly bumping into Phineas.

"Jesus!"

"I'm sorry my dear, I didn't see you coming. I just bumped into Jenny down the hall. Am I interrupting something?"

"No." Your tone was sharp and it made Phineas narrowed his eyes. "Don't ask. It's a long story. Anyways what do you need?"

"Are you performing tonight?" You shook your head. "No, this is Jenny's solo night."

"Okay, I just wanted to ask because she ignored me when I seen her...are you sure you're alright my dear?" You stared at him for a few moments, not knowing what to say. It was an incredibly awkward situation. What could you even say to him. "Yes, everything's fine. I'm just not feeling the greatest."

"Go get some rest then, my dear. I shall see you tomorrow morning." He placed a small kiss on the top of your head. "Goodnight Y/n."

"Goodnight Phineas."

....

"It's not tight enough!"

"How tightly do you want the bobby pins then, Jenny?" You sighed and ran a hand through her red hair as curled it. "Sorry..sorry."

"It's fine, You huffed. There was an awkward silence for the moment. "So are we going to talk about what happened earlier?" You shrugged. "What is there to talk about?"

"Y/n-"

"No, Jenny. I'm not doing this with you. You pushed me away. There is nothing for us to talk about. There is nothing I want to talk about. You burned the bridge. You deal with the consequences."

You finished her last curl and set the iron down. "..I didn't mean to hurt you, Y/n."

"Sure you didn't." Jenny sighed and pulled you into a slight hug. You softened up a little bit and sighed. "Don't do anything brash please?"

"I make no promises."

"Jenny-"

"You trust me right? Trust me enough to make my own decisions?"

"Jenny you know I do but I'm just afraid of you getting hurt."

"I won't. What's the worst that can happen? He turns me away." You shrugged as if to say maybe and Jenny smiled. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck." She pressed a kiss against your cheek and smiled. "Bye, Y/n."

"Bye."

....

The next few hours you laid in bed in yours and Jenny's hotel room, wondering how the show went and what she was doing. She should of been back hours ago. What the hell was she doing?

Your eyes settled on the clock at the far end of the room. 12:55. You brushed it off as maybe she lost track of time but you knew that was too good to be true. Something felt wrong.

A few minutes later you heard the door unlock followed by the sound of heels clicking against the floor and sniffling. "How much did you have to drink?" You joked but there was no laugh.

"Jenny? Jenny, are you okay?" You felt her weight sink down next to you on the mattress. "H-he doesn't like me." You furrowed your brows. "Who?"

"Phineas." You sat up in bed and took her hands gently in your own. "Jenny, what the hell did you do?"

"Remember how you told me the story about your first time on stage and Phineas tolf you, you have to learn to fall before you fly?" You grabbed a tissue out of the box besides your bed and handed it to Jenny. "Yeah.."

"So I thought maybe, just maybe, he'll like me the way I like I like him."

"Jenny-"

"I tried to kiss him. I tried to kiss him but he refused me." She looked so mad and upset. Despite the part of you that was relieved Phineas didn't cheat on Charity, you felt your heart breaking for the woman sitting next to you.

"Jenny.." You wiped some of the tears off her face and she pulled you into a hug. You never seen Jenny act like this before and it shocked you. It was the look of rejection. It was the look of pain. She never had been rejected before.

"And the worse part is, is I thought I love him but I don't know what I feel anymore. I-i'm just so confused." You shushed her and hugged her tight. "It's okay, Jenny. Everything is going to be alright. It's okay to be confused. It's normal. I'm sure everything will work out. Everything happens for a reason. We may not understand why in the moment, but eventually it will make sense in the future. It's going to be okay. I promise."

"Yeah but, where do I go from here? People will talk. Say things about the both of us and nothing is going to be the same after this." She was practically panicking. "Just relax..For right now, no one has word of anything and don't worry about where to go yet. You have time to figure all that out. It's going to be alright." You held onto her tightly, not knowing if you should do more or less for her. "Thanks, Y/n."

You kissed her sweet smelling red hair and patted her back. "You're welcome." The two of you sat together in silence for a moment. Despite not knowing how you even felt about all this, you treasured the silence between the two of you.

After a while, Jenny pulled away from you abruptly and stared deeply into your eyes. "Jenny? Jenny, you're staring at me. What's-" Her luscious red lips smacked against yours and your eyes widened, trying not to melt into the kiss. "Don't speak."

"Jenny..Jenny, what are you doing?!" You rasped and attempted to pull away from her but she grabbed your hand. "It's always been you, you know that right?"

"Jenny, it has not always been me. You basically just told me, you want to fuck Phineas. This is not you acting out of love. This is you acting out of-"

She interrupted you, putting a finger up to your lips. "I've always loved you. I thought I loved Phineas but no, I love you. You and only you."

"I-i love you too..I think? I don't know! I'm so confused! Jenny, people will talk. People will say things about us. Mean things about us. Don't you care?" She kissed you sweetly on the lips. "Who cares what people think as long as we have each other."

Despite how wrong it felt, it also felt so right and you gave into her touch. Praying you wouldn't regret it later as she ran her hands through your hair as she kissed you. "I..I love you my darling."

"L-love you too." You could feel Jenny caressing your sides and you moaned slightly as her lips left yours. "I want you, Y/n. I want you right now." She pressed you back again the mattress and you looked at her wide eyed and terrified. "I-i never done this before."

"Then I'll teach you. No fear, understand?" You nodded in spite of your growing anxiety and Jenny began to pepper small kisses down your face and neck, leaving little love marks here and there. "So, so beautiful." You could feel her hands working at the buttons on the top of your blouse, the sides of her hands kneading your breast.

You bit down on your lip to prevent a moan of frustration and you could of sworn you seen Jenny smile. "Oh darling..by the time I'm done with you, there will be no amount of lip biting to hide those luscious noises."

You blushed in embarrassment as she pulled off your top and bra. Peppering tiny kisses all over your breast before playfully biting at your nipples. You hissed in a mix of pain in pleasure, pulling at her hair as she moved lower down your body.

She looked up at me before pulling all your clothes off, dragging your silk panties along the way. Jenny spread your legs apart before lifting one of them up, placing it on her shoulder. You felt her trail small kisses on the inside of your thigh, your tongue licking alongside your folds.

Jenny's hand took hold of your thighs, holding them in place as she started to lick back and forth with her tongue against your cunt. “So wet and I’ve barely touched you” Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as your head fell back against the wall.

You felt her tounge flicking back and you arched your back. "Fuck, fuck!" You screamed then covered your mouth, not wanting anyone to hear you. "T-this feels so good!"

"I told you..I'm a piece of work!" You heard a hand bang against the wall from whoever had the room next door to you and Jenny sighed. "Oh fuck off!"

She quickly got back to work. The room which felt cold from the rain a outside was now hot like a sauna and the two of you were sweating. You were hitting your peak and you gasped, squeezing onto the white satin sheets.

"I-i can't take much more!" You grunted. "Cum for me, my darling. I want you to." You felt the pit in your stomach growing and you screamed in euphoria as you came. What the hell had you been missing all this time?

As you laid there, still in a daze. Jenny wiped the sweat off your forehead and laid down next to you. "That was...amazing."

"It was always is when you're with me." You slapped her arm and planted a kiss on her lips before burying your head in her chest. "My good girl." She kissed the top of your head and you laid there in her arms, not caring who thought what about anything that just happened between the two of you. None of that mattered now. As long as you had your Jenny.

[chiimmchiimm]

❝𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 !¡ 𝑜𝓃𝑒 ❞

CHAPTERS “  01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 -  11  - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 “  

The northern jail was the most dangerous in the country, social scum, thousands of criminals were locked behind their bars. Who would tell poor Blair that he would end up there because of his father’s mistake. The problem was not the lack of hot water, but that inhuman obsession that many of the prisoners had for “new toys.” Rookies had two options; be submissive and abide by veterans’ orders or suffer the dangerous anger of those disturbed minds. It all started one night when Blair had the bad idea of ​​going to shower alone.

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jungkookoffender au x (female: Blair) 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: smut.(later), offender au, fluff, angst. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 5 k 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔:  +18   𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔:   abuse, domestic violence, painful memories, sadness, psychological abuse, dirty lenjuage. 𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒:  This is my first novel on Tumblr, give it a lot of love and don’t forget to like it. The chapters will be uploaded weekly.

The sun dazzled much more that morning, its blinding light sneaked through the slits of the shutters halfway down giving a much more welcoming look to the living room of my parents’ house. Sitting on that white velvet sofa with a relatively steaming decaffeinated coffee on the side table. With my cheek resting heavily against the median kneecap to rest my head. The television broadcast the morning news of each day. It was the same as always; juicy gossip of some famous, unfortunate catastrophes about a natural disaster, exhaustively ridiculous scandals about some imprudent action of some human being.I got up ready to turn off that silly box that the only thing that could grant me was useless, but suddenly, photo information My father came out on the front page. My phone started ringing incessantly but I couldn’t stop staring at the screen with my mouth open when the journalist started listing all the charges that came related to our last name. I even covered my shocked mouth when a family photo appeared behind the woman. One where we all went out; Mom, he and me Mom wore a forced smile under her sad and dull eyes, my father’s hand wrapped her small waist with love, a feeling that only showed us when someone was present. A smaller me hooked on my father’s long neck with a brightly fierce emotion while teaching the few teeth he had back then. A sarcastic smile appeared early under my lips because that was the day I received my first slap.

As the stormy rains on cold winter days my life always revolved around the same routine. My father attended important events and my mother and I accompanied him to maintain his elitist family profile. However, it all ended when I turned eighteen. I put an endless number of excuses so as not to have to face those humiliating talks about the lowest society. I know my father didn’t believe me, of course, he can’t hurt my head every Friday at the same time. My mother always helped me and in the end, I got what I wanted; get away from him. The relationship with my father was never affectionate and that remains unchanged now in my twenties. Instead, a small part of me wanted to go to those extravagant meetings, not because of the chatter with those insipid people, but, for not leaving my mother alone who knew that they were not to her liking either. Still with her layers of makeup my mother could not cover the tracks that my father left on her delicate skin; the bruises, bruises, breaks … His overthrown gaze was the last thing I saw before falling asleep every night. I can never erase the time he hugged me so hard that my breath left my system, I knew from his trembling, that my father had unloaded his business failure with her.

“I left.” I whispered with my mouth against the cold surface of her skin. His arms dropped slowly when I separated from her. My tone was decisive, decisive, so that I understood that I was not talking about a simple possibility, but a solution. “You don’t deserve a son of a bitch to fuck you every night.”

But as expected, my mother ducked her head. And I knew that I shied away from my penetrating gaze because I knew that deep down I was right.

He took a long breath and then answered what I was so afraid of; “Everything I do is for you.”

I did not open my mouth again all night, just lend him my back to release his helplessness with continuous crying. He understood why he did it but did not support it. I know that he wanted to give me the best education and the best luxuries, but at what price? I would gladly give up all the comforts that had been given to me as long as his suffering ended. But I knew that I was a motive but not the most relevant. My father was. I know I was afraid of him and that he justified every abuse with all kinds of inconceivable excuses. And for that crude reason, my mother always ended up being dragged by my father.

What I never thought, is that, I would also be dragged by him.

“Are you aware that you face a penalty of seven years and two months in prison?”

Everything happened so fast, that man spoke so fast. I was barely aware of the sporadic overturn that I had just given my life. And he regretted not having tasted that coffee better because from the face of that man he could deduce that it would be the last one he would drink in a long time. The prosecutor leaned a hand on the table in the interrogation room to get my attention, but the only thing he looked at was the bumps on the bricks of the white wall. The tears gathered in my eyes. The low fluidity of my breathing. And the dolls burned by the touch of the cold metal of the wives. I couldn’t even understand lucidly if he said anything else or it was just pure invention of my mind. The whitish light that came from the laminated ceiling lamps produced a frightening buzz that, to my bad luck, blocked all the orders of my central nervous system, keeping me completely stretched in a chair that, however uncomfortable, was much better than the filthy bed of The dungeons What did he want me to tell him what was innocent? He had already repeated it to satiety and seemed not to care in the least, even, I was able to absorb an improper satisfaction of a good lawyer when hearing the judge’s sentence.

Emphasizing time again, everything happened too quickly, so much that I could barely be aware that my feet were directing my body towards an unknown room. When my watery eyes read inmates I could be aware, again, of how much life could change in a matter of seconds.

“Turn it off as soon as possible and memorize the pin well, you may not remember in seven years.”

Look closely as my phone offered. However, the blow of the white tray against the table made me divert attention to the tattooed girl behind the counter. A girl with bluish hair that carefully removed the clothes while playing with a pen balancing it inside her mouth. A tap on my abdomen made me regain my composure. When I accepted my phone back I turned it off and gave it to the governor.

“Look, all size 38, okay?” And there are six complete molts included. ”The blue hair announced, making a small pout with her lips. I lift a small transparent plastic bag while showing me one by one the garments that would be my wardrobe from now on. I had changed my channel suits and my row tracksuits for a yellow jacket and pants of the same color. But without a doubt, what caught my attention was the white clothes that were in another bag.

“Hey, I brought my own underwear.” The ruler observed me immediately. “I have sensitive skin.”

The girl stopped moving things to lift her head and stare at me. Blue — since his hair wore that vivid color and he didn’t know his name. ”He intensified a line with his lips as he tightened all the features of his face. He looked at me as if he had said the worst atrocity in the world. And I certainly did not understand why he was so serious when he had said nothing wrong. It was not my fault that my skin did not support polyester, if someone wanted to blame it, then it is my strange allergy to poor quality materials. One that left me full of small red spots along my entire epidermis and an unbearable itching for three days.

“Well,_ Barbie_, we’re all the same here.” He commented mockingly. I frowned at her derogatory nickname, however, I couldn’t protest because at the moment the ruler broke into our little discussion, if we refer to her as an eloquent little talk in which I have been left as a weak and silly girl who has been belittled and he has not had the courage to defend himself.

“What is this?”

By the time I wanted to realize what was happening I already had the bottle of my vitamins being opened by the long fingers of that woman. I reacted immediately with a babble that all I reflected was how much that shit situation could.

“No, no, that’s not a drug. It’s nothing weird, it’s just royal jelly.” As I was speaking the words piled up under my tongue and my trembling made the language come out much less fluently than I expected. However, the governor raised her eyebrows as if my version of the echos was not given as true. On the other hand, blue was making fun of my nerves again with a low smile that hid while scratching her bulging hair. I felt the need to explain myself again and I did so; “It is to reinforce defenses.”

“Forty pills?” He asked so wryly that question that I was speechless. I moved, to the laugh of blue that increased my beginner’s nerves. “What will you do when they run out?”

“Man, I expected to be out when that will happen.”

But my answer falls like a vol of cold water. Then, I realize that I thought out loud. And that blue has not stopped laughing at any moment of my blunder and that now has made his laugh level up. I don’t know what I have to say to fix things, because I literally just expressed my wishes to get out of here, however, I don’t see anything wrong with that but apparently she does resent my sincerity. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be in this crappy place and endure the laughter of a criminal who does nothing but make fun of me.

For my luck, everything is there. In a little anecdote that will happen to the most shameful periods of my existence.

I pick up the tray with disgust because it didn’t look like it but it has its weight and I walk down a corridor that only leads in one direction. First, the governor enters and then I do it. I thank you ironically for the galantia of holding the door while I eat the stiffness of the glass with my mouth.

“Put the clothes on that tray when you’re done and make sure you don’t keep anything.”

Seat. Really, he won nothing by arguing with a woman who is in sight that has a character of a thousand demons. Better keep quiet and follow your orders as fast as I can. I have to change in front of her. And I thank heaven that she is a woman and not a man because she certainly would not have been able to stay naked in front of the opposite gender. Then, I move again to a room that was next to the old one to go through a metal detector machine. As you can see I don’t wear anything, he relaxes in a padlocked sigh. Poor woman, I have a feeling that you don’t usually pay much attention here. Finally, I understood that my little excursion is over when I have in front of me the automatic doors that would open my module.

Then, the governor turns to a guard who appears behind a counter.

“Open the door, I bring the new one.”

The girl presses a button and the metal doors open. The governor shakes her head to tell me to go ahead. Breathing a sigh from my own emotional instability, I shake my shoulders and walk right. However, when I hear the fortuitous noises of things being hit against the metal I remain planted on the site which causes the government to almost clash with me.

“What do you think you are doing?” “Is he not listening to the hustle and bustle that prisoners are riding?

“I can’t.” I deny uncontrollably, to the point, of almost injuring my neck when I turn from side to side. The governor places her hands at each end of her hip while looking at me with obvious discomfort. “Please.”

But my plea seems to fill his patience and the only thing that I achieve with my actions is that I push myself sharply and fall face down on the ground. And then, chaos breaks loose. The blows increase in level. I do not even look at the grotesque spectacle of which my ears are witnesses because in the story I wake up I try to run away backwards but collide with the governor and I almost fall again.

“Do you want to be still, fuck?”

“I’m innocent …” he said for the twentieth time in the day.

“Pick up the floor tray and move on.” - order. I withdraw what has been said above, this lady is a witch. He gives a fuck that he is giving me a little anxiety attack. I make sure of it when I narrow my eyes. He is throwing small threats with his gestures and I have no choice but to pick up the forgotten tray on the floor.

“Newbie!” You eat rabbit tonight.

He ducked his head and keep going.

“Go here, rule!”

-Pretty! Hey you!

I decipher a shout through the crowd and instantly regret having done it. And much more to divert the head towards the alleged culprit because the first thing my eyes see is a woman shaved and tattooed to the neck making with her fingers the shape of a vagina and passing the tongue in between. The one next to him laughs at the terrified reaction I do. I quickly simulate an arcade frightened by that grotesque insinuation.

But the worst was yet to come.

-Brunette! I’m going to give you until I’m dry!

“What a gift from Santa Claus!”

He panicked.

The governor stretches again because I have stopped again. Then, I raise my head and look at the top railings. My eyeballs widen to the point of almost leaving the site. I drop my tray when I see the stacked row of sweaty bodies controlled by testosterone looking at me directly. Their dirty and perverse glances cover the little skin that leaves prison clothes in sight. By instinct I hug myself but I can’t get the anguish to go away. When the governor who is behind me realizes that I have stayed at the site of disgust, she pushes me slightly forward to finish climbing the stairs.

“I would like to be a sardine to swim in your vagina!”

“Cell 345!”

I don’t even know who said that because my head didn’t lift it from the ground at any time. The incessant compliments do not stop disturbing my auditory ducts as I go up the steps. For a moment, I think I hear the government’s sigh but I am not sure if it was his or mine because I could barely distinguish another sound other than the bellowing of those disgusting men. Their throats were torn by the volume so high that they used to get my attention, what they did not know, that this was not the first time that he faced this type of situation and that he would not fall for his provocations. Therefore, when I thought I could worthy of raising my head I could realize that my luck had just taken a wonderful course because I was facing the opposite direction of that tangle of apes in heat.

The governor took out an orange card and passed through the magnetic sensor of the door. The noise of that steel structure stimulated my blood velocity and that my eyes responded by closing tightly. With nerves accumulating in the small lump of my throat I took the first step towards those four walls that would now be my home.

A dark-haired girl under the bed as soon as I set foot in the small cell. But he didn’t look at me, but at the ruler.

“Boss, there must have been a mistake.” The rookie goes in another cell here we are complete. ”He explained, pausing the tone of his voice to give it a much deeper touch. What gave me the most curiosity about his vocal bell was that he was adorned with the typical accent of foreigners. The white-skinned girl stood in front of me to cut my step while pointing her finger back. Her black straight hair covered her cheeks slightly while she covered her shoulders with neglect. He had long legs and thin arms under the sleeves of the yellow jacket. Small and thin lips, and a feline look that left me blank when I looked at myself for two seconds. My arms trembled unconsciously because I could perfectly perceive a warning glow.

—Blair London is assigned to this cell. Come London leave your stuff on that shelf and make your bed.

“Still rookie.”

When I took a step that girl got in my way.

“Do what I told you, London.”

“Do not do it.”

“Do it.”

“No.”

“Do it London.”

“No,” he whispered in such a dark tone that a paralyzing chill caressed my back.

I instinctively shrunk my body when that girl spit her breath over my face. Swallow nervous saliva, an act that did not go unnoticed by her. A small macabre smile greeted his features when he felt the tremor of my fingers holding the tray. I counted mentally to slow my shortness of breath but all I could get was to get his attention more.

“Do you think that because we let you smoke in here, you’re going to do whatever you want?”

When the authoritarian voice of the governor reached my ears, my back slumped forward. The palms of my hands began to sweat and my mood deteriorated at times. At this point it didn’t matter if I hid my stress because it was no longer a viable option.

“I’m just informing the module manager that we’re very tight here and if one more inmate comes in, maybe she has to sleep on the floor.” Yes or no, girls?

As he leaned to the side to see the governor directly, I could see what was behind her. Two more girls inhabited the room. One of them with much longer and darker hair was placed behind her to support what she said. The other, almost white hair and extremely white skin, sobbed and trembled almost as much as I did while swaying on the mattress with a rosary sticking out of her thin fingers. The first, nodded in a gesture of security while the other prayed in low whispers. When he saw that he was saying nothing he approached and hit him in the head.

“Answer the hell!”

“Yes-yes.” I stutter exaggeratedly. I separate her head from her shoulders and when I look at her cellmates I can see two superficial cuts, one on her lower lip and the other on her left cheek. What the fuck had they done? Really, he looked like a scared little animal about to be hunted. I felt so bad for that girl. My empathy had caused me to give him a look full of sadness.

“I’ll take the new one so you don’t make her life bitter.” The governor informed her, snapping her tongue as she gave a sideways glance at the Asian girl. However, when I thought I could finally run away from that awkward situation, the governor ended the encounter with a warning; - You think you have everything under Akame control but be very careful.— Then, I touch my shoulder to drag myself out of the cell.

“Why don’t you look at your phone, govern?” And then we talk about who’s in charge here and who has to be careful.

The woman deformed her expression to a calmer one as if those words had not affected her. But both the dark-haired girl and I knew that they had done it, and maybe for that reason, I didn’t even answer him and he took me out of there as fast as he could. Should I thank you for getting me out of that place? Definitely yes.

But before I finished showing my thanks, a tall, dark young man passed by our side. His presence seemed to startle her so much that she almost collided with me. Then he watched me a few seconds before calling the guard.

“Garcia.”

The boy turned.

“Can you take the new one to his cell?” The brunette nodded. “I don’t find myself well.

“Clear.”

The governor handed him the folder with my personal data and shot out down the hall as if an important matter was waiting for him. Would it have to do with the threat of that girl? Something told me yes.

We did not walk much, we passed two cells and stood in the third. Again, panic began to cloud my system. The air to miss me. And my knees to shake getting my balance was required immediately not to fall. I didn’t want to find another one like that girl. Was it that there was no one normal in this prison shit? All of a sudden, my nerves played tricks on me because my mouth opened to confess what I had been keeping since I crossed the courthouse door.

“I can’t.” I ran over.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I need to see a doctor.”

I don’t know if it sounded too exaggerated but I definitely didn’t want to get in there.

“Do you have tremors? Blurry vision? Dizziness Cramps? Chest pain?″

"Em, no.” I blinked as I lost myself among so many symptoms.

“Well, then nothing happens to you.” Not caring about my facial pallor, he swiped his orange card through the sensor and again, my eyes closed at the squeak of the door. He held the folder against his chest and said, “Blair London.Cell two twenty five.”

Any motor movement that my body could make seemed to have left my head. My quick breathing lifted my chest at an excessive rate denoting on the front page how nervous I was to find myself again. I took the first step into the cell. A girl of short and slender stature rose up from her bed, drawing the attention of the other two. He removed his short tinted hair from a light brown back as he glanced at his companions. A middle-aged woman who put her hand on her left leg while leaning towards my paralyzed figure examining me with curiosity and another girl with extremely pale skin much younger than the two previously mentioned behind the main culprit of my partial blush of cheeks. The aftertaste of my saliva was bitter from so many chills that ran through my little body. Too overwhelming pressure seized the area near my stomach when the bars of the cell covered the door leaving me without escape. Locked up with those three women. And above all, locked in my desperate destiny.

"I am Dallas.”

I jumped a little when I returned to my horrible reality. The low voice of that girl woke me up completely. He stretched his hand politely towards me while he leaned slightly and smiled as if we were two friends and not two inmates of the worst prison in Los Angeles. No doubt that girl was too confident. But, nevertheless, his singular sympathy for strangers was something that I sincerely thanked. I finally accepted his hand and although I could not return a smile for my state away from joy, at least, stimulate a small grimace under my dry lips.

“I am Blair, delighted.” I said, controlling the small tremor in my voice thanks to the timely appearance of my self-control. Finally, I could smile. I leaned uncomfortably towards her cheek to kiss her kindly, Dallas understood my action and we ended up giving two cheek kisses as a way of civilized greeting. The air came out of my mouth unconsciously to calm the nervous spasms I still suffered from the two pairs of eyes that saw the scene from a distance.

The second to speak was the oldest of the four.

“Where are you from, my girl?”

“From here, from Los Angeles.”

But the child’s sudden laughter stopped my response.

“No, why are you here?” He replied, pausing the space of the words he spoke. The mockery danced for her serene features, clearly, emphasizing my poor understanding. His hands flew into his pockets, dragging the fabric of his yellowish pants. His shirt ran down. The mark of his bony clavicle denoted how much he lacked a good diet. She was extremely thin compared to the weight she should have with her height. I tilt his thin leg to support his body while sweeping my perfectly buttoned shirt.

“Ah.” I issued the monosyllable with caution. “I really shouldn’t be here.” I am here for a mistake.

“And how many years have you fallen for the mistake?” Dallas asked as she adjusted the jacket of her uniform to her liking. Glancing under the eyes of complices with the smallest in his enjoyment for making me feel uncomfortable.

“Seven.” I murmured under my breath. My body shrank because the teasing did not take long to appear. Making such a big scandal that the guard soon appeared to get our attention with some blows on the bars. I was upset, however, not surprised. Neither the judge nor the ruler had believed in my innocence, did I really think they would be different? I should get used to the teasing since it seemed to be his favorite hobby. I headed for the only empty bed in that small cell. Through that tide of laughter and groans that cause my internal discomfort. I thought it was best to ignore them and I did that while I stretched the sheets.

“Do you want to keep laughing in isolation, June?” The guard’s authoritative voice appeared behind them. His warning to the smallest had been like the extinguisher that turned off his fun.

“You are very bitter, Garcia.”

Immediately, Liberty seconded his mischief.

“This is what you need is a good dust, Dallas.”

“That you be silent!”

He gave another blow as a warning resulting in the two friends separating. Liberty raised her arms signing the peace. The youngest, just climbed on the bed above mine and jumped down.

“Get in bed and sleep, mommy.”

I watched in a flash as the woman’s hand rested on my shoulder. His hand adorned with slight wrinkles and small skin spots had been the closest thing to human contact he had had in hours. And even if we were unknown, I was able to spot some tenderness in his touch. As if his words were not an order, if not, an advice that I should follow for my good. The woman had a very intense green-eyed look. There was something in those lifeless pupils that told me that I had suffered a lot in life. And for a few seconds, that woman reminded me of my mother.

“Thank you but … I don’t think I can sleep.” I confessed, undoing my usual hue at a lower one.

The heat of my shoulder disappeared when he removed his hand and turned around. A bleak emptiness stifled my body after lack of contact. I lay down slowly on the mattress while following the woman’s movement carefully. When he finished going to bed, he looked at me one last time and sighed. As if guessing all the problems that crossed my mind.

“The first night is the most difficult. If you can’t sleep, talk to God, he always listens to us.”

A bitter smile crossed my lips when the woman turned her back on me. I didn’t want to be rude and much less after he had treated me so well, for that very reason I kept quiet. I crossed my fingers over my stomach but comfort was not something I felt at that moment. I closed my eyes for several minutes to see if the dream was beating my anguish but the only thing I got was to overwhelm myself under the covers. I removed my body until I lay on my side. When my eyes met the white wall it was as if everything would make sense. It filled my mouth saying that this shit had been a mistake. But deep down I understood the mockery of that pale girl. And if you look at it from another perspective it was quite pathetic. I could say all that convinced but that didn’t make it easier. I knew that my father had screwed up my life and that as much as the woman told me that praying would help solve my problems, I made another crude excuse for not accepting reality.

The lack of weight from the mattress above distracted my hypnosis with the wall. When I turned my body slightly I could see through the little clarity that Dallas had come down from his bed. How I was covered up to the nose I could see the scene before me without realizing that I was still awake. He reached out and with the tip of his finger pressed the button on the bars. Out of nowhere a much taller figure appeared and Dallas threw forward enthusiastically. The last thing I saw before they left was a tattoo of a small heart on the wrist of the tallest.

                                                           ✞

NEXT

[queensofrap]

Cardi B in the March 2019 issue of Harper’s BAZAAR. QUEEN.

Cardi B Opens Up About Her "Rags to Riches" Cinderella Story

When Cardi B visits her favorite nail salon in the Bronx, she enters through a raggedy hallway covered with a rug emblazoned with the image of a $100 bill. The salon, which overlooks a bustling avenue of pizza shops, sports-gear superstores, and boutiques with weaves in 70 colors, is a temple to money, excess, and sexiness, symbolized in the application of nails that look like diamond-encrusted Buck knives. Portraits of two icons of pulchritude hang on the walls—namely, Marilyn Monroe and the very 2019 version of Marilyn: Cardi. 

With a posse that includes her dad, her half-sister, her half-brother, and two Drogosize bodyguards whose names I don’t catch but imagine to be Bulwark and Spear, Cardi, 26, heads toward a private side room. She surrenders her hands and feet to Jenny Bui, her sharp-tongued nail tech of more than half a decade, even back when she didn’t have the money to move out of this borough.

A tiny, makeup-less sprite in magenta leggings and a playful Moschino sweatshirt, Cardi talks about where she’s at today. On one hand, she says, “I feel like my life is a fairy tale and I’m a princess—rags to riches, people trying to sabotage,” she says. But she also complains fervently about being over the fairy-tale life and wanting peace and quiet. “Before, I cared about everything—relationship, gossip. Now I don’t feel like I have the time to please people,” she explains. “I don’t care about anything anymore—just my career and my kid.” What about money, the thing she raps about caring for quite a bit? “Well, I care about my career because of my money,” Cardi says, giving me a “c’mon, stupid” face.

“Before,” in this context, means before the tectonic shifts that have taken place in Cardi’s life in the past year: that she became a global superstar; relocated from New York to Atlanta to live with the charismatic rapper Offset, her new husband; gave birth to an unplanned but much loved daughter, Kulture Kiari, in July; then, five months later, after the drip-drip-drip of rumors about Offset’s infidelity, announced on Instagram that the marriage was over.

Today Cardi tells me that Offset has been to her apartment, but they haven’t seen each other and are “not really” talking, which is a bit hard to believe after she shows me videos of her gurgling baby on her iPhone and happens to scroll past a photo of Offset with a time stamp reading today. When I ask her if she’s getting back with Offset, I can almost hear her curious entourage, who have arranged themselves on sofas on the perimeter of the room, lean forward to catch the answer. For a moment, the only sound is Bui engaging in some hard-hat-level sanding and scraping of the star’s three-inch nails. Then Cardi says both, “I don’t think so,” and “Who knows? You never know, you can never tell,” neither of which is exactly a definitive answer.

I’ve interviewed dozens of pop stars, and Cardi, despite the massive entourage and the bear-claw-like nails, seems the most normal. She’s not the most down-to-earth or the most perfect, and she’s definitely not the least into social media, but she knows who she is and where she came from, and has somehow managed to keep expressing genuine emotions in the face of blockbuster success. And while her emotions can sometimes seem out of control, who hasn’t been there? We might not have screamed and thrown a shoe at Nicki Minaj at a Harper’s Bazaar event this past September (in retribution, Cardi has said, for various slights from Minaj, including liking a negative comment about her parenting skills), or allegedly ordered an attack on two female bartenders at a strip club visited by Offset (a judge issued orders of protection in December for the accusers), but we’ve all been mad as hell. And the unbearable cuteness and sexiness of Cardi, a raunchy L.O.L. doll, quickly erases those moments, drowning them in adorable high jinks.  

Leaving aside the fake nails and boob implants, with Cardi the artifice is in the artwork. In the space of less than a year, her music, videos, and fashion have made her a star of Lady Gaga proportions. She releases hit after hit; following last summer’s “I Like It,” the first Latin trap song to rise to number one on the Billboard Hot 100, with “Money,” a song, unsurprisingly, about money. In the video, she wears gorgeous clothes (she’s got “10 different looks and my looks all kill,” she raps), including outfits referencing Thierry Mugler, a gold bikini inspired by 1990s Lil’ Kim’s, and a custom Christian Cowan bodysuit fabricated from dozens of actual watches. She’s a post-Kardashian American superstar, a master of selfies, belfies, late-night Instagram videos, and all other manner of self-promotion— and also a creative genius. In 2019, no one needs to pick.  

Raised in the Bronx, Cardi was the naturally rebellious daughter of a Trinidadian-born cashier mother and a Dominican Republic–born cabdriver father. Her mother was strict. Nevertheless she joined the notorious Bloods gang, moved out of her mother’s home and in with a boyfriend and, finding herself broke, took a job as a cashier at a grocery store. To build a nest egg, she became a stripper. To build a bigger nest egg, she became a hot girl on social media. In 2015, she was cast as a lovable loudmouth on the VH1 reality show Love & Hip Hop: New York, then began releasing her own mixtapes. Her debut single, “Bodak Yellow,” went to the top of the charts, and it took her only one album to achieve escape velocity: Invasion of Privacy, arguably the best debut album from a female rapper since Lil’ Kim’s 1996 Hard Core. 

It’s an intense time for Cardi, now one of the biggest rappers—and one of the most famous women in the world—caring for an infant and dealing with a semi-estranged husband. Her answer is to be as real as she can. As much as she may imagine herself as a princess, she talks about admiring Meghan Markle for becoming a real one. “She must just be like, ‘Who am I?’” Cardi says, referring to Markle’s having to live by the royal family’s rules. Not being able to be herself would be the worst punishment for Cardi. 

Up and down, joy and pain, sunshine and rain—we’ve experienced all her days on her social media channels, where she posts close-up, emotional videos like an Instagram mime. She’s not your typical grasping celebrity, and doesn’t get off on endless adulation. “I work with somebody who gives me compliments all day, and I’m like, ‘Oh, my gosh, can you just stop?’” she says.   

Cardi’s fans have been so protective of her that when Offset broke in to her set at a concert, walking onstage with a $15,000 rolling floral display made of 2,000 roses that read TAKE ME BACK CARDI, they exploded on social media with anger over a man who refused to take a woman’s “no” at face value. (A backstage video showing one of Cardi’s reps escorting Offset to the stage did little to dim the outrage.)  

I ask if any family or friends influenced her decision to leave Offset. “No, I decided on my own,” she declares, looking me straight in the eye. “Nobody makes my decisions about my life but me.” Before they broke up, Offset begged Cardi to see a therapist. “I didn’t want to go to marriage counseling,” she says, in a firm tone of voice. “He suggested it, but it’s like, ‘I don’t want to go.’ There’s no counselor or nothing that could make me change my mind.”

Like many women who’ve experienced heartache and alleged infidelity, she seems caught between wanting to stay and leave. As Elizabeth Gilbert wrote in Eat Pray Love, Offset is “[her] lighthouse and [her] albatross in equal measure.” But Cardi also knows that dating new guys might be bizarre. “I have a kid, and I’m also famous,” she says quietly. “So I can’t just sleep with anybody. People talk. You know, if I date somebody in the industry, that’s another person in the industry. If I date somebody who is not in the industry, he might not understand my lifestyle.” Since the breakup, she’s been getting a ton of messages from guys but ignoring them. “It’s like, ‘Bro, why would you want to holler at me right away? You’re weird.’ If you think Imma automatically hop onto you after a marriage, that just means you think I’m a sleaze. And I’m not. I have a kid—I have to show an example.”

Bui, who has been listening intently to our interview while crafting Cardi’s nails, waves a hand and then interjects, “You’re so old-fashioned!”

“Jenny, just because I’m out there and very sexual doesn’t mean that I have to be whorish,” says Cardi. “I like to have sex. That doesn’t mean I have to have it with everybody.” She pauses, then adds, “Not that I judge women who want to have sex with the world.”

Done with her rant, Cardi turns her attention to her nails. “Damn, that’s sharp,” she says to Bui, whistling a little under her breath. “The polish will make them less sharp, right? Because we can’t forget about the baby.” Ignoring her, Bui says only, “Don’t move.”

Throughout our conversation, Cardi has been jiggling her leg up and down like a schoolkid. I ask her how long she’s had that habit. “Forever, and you know what? People always talk shit about it, but now it’s like, ‘Ha ha,’ because when I do it my daughter likes it,” she says.    

Despite the indelible image of Cardi breast-feeding in the “Money” video, wearing a black gown open at the bodice, she isn’t breast-feeding Kulture, whom she’s nicknamed KK. “It was too hard,” she explains. In fact, she spent most of the time after the baby was born in a haze of postpartum depression. “I thought I was going to avoid it,” Cardi says. “When I gave birth, the doctor told me about postpartum, and I was like, ‘Well, I’m doing good right now, I don’t think that’s going to happen.’ But out of nowhere, the world was heavy on my shoulders.”

Realizing that taking KK with her on the tour bus was unrealistic but unable to bear leaving her at home, Cardi dropped out of a lucrative tour with Bruno Mars. She started feeling better a couple of months after the baby was born, she says, and her mother has been helping out; Cardi hasn’t hired professional help because she isn’t sure she can trust anyone outside her family.

As a new mom, Cardi is still experiencing aches and pains. “For some reason, I still don’t feel like my body’s the same,” she says. “I feel like I don’t have my balance right yet. When it comes to heels, I’m not as good at walking anymore. I feel like I’m holding a weight on me. I don’t know why because I’m skinnier than I’ve ever been. But there’s an energy I haven’t gotten back yet that I had before I was pregnant. It’s just the weirdest thing.”

The baby is starting to help Cardi balance her emotions, though. “Sometimes I’ll see something online and it’ll piss me off, and then my baby will start crying or something, and it’s like, ‘You know what? I’ve got to deal with the milk. Forget this.’” She’s thinking about pulling back a little from social media. “I’ve noticed that every time you respond, you just make things worse, so I’m over it. I’m just over it. I really don’t need it, and sometimes it just brings chaos to my brain.” She adds, “I can stay off social media. I’ve been trying.” For months after KK was born, Cardi didn’t put pictures of her on social media, and certainly didn’t sell any to the tabloids. She says Offset wanted to put a picture up, but she was unsure.  

“As soon as she was born, one month in he was like, ‘She’s so beautiful. Watch how people gonna go crazy.’ ’Cause a lot of people were saying mean stuff, like that we don’t post her because she’s ugly. He was like, ‘I’m about to post my baby right now.’ But then we were very concerned because we were getting a lot of threats, so he said, ‘The world don’t even deserve to see her.’” Eventually Cardi wanted to put a photo up because “it’s really annoying and we don’t have a life. We have to hide her all the time. I can’t go to L.A. or Miami and walk down the beach with my baby. I want to go shopping with my baby. I want to take a stroll with my baby. Sometimes I feel bad for her because all she knows is the house.” But can’t you put on a baseball cap? I ask. Will people still recognize you? “Yeah,” she says. “It’s my nose.” 

Bui applies a final coat of purple paint on Cardi’s nails—a brief discussion ensues about whether the shade is the exact “baby purple” Cardi has requested—and then she talks about needing to get home to go to sleep. “I’ve got a big meeting in the morning in Boston,” Cardi says, nodding slowly. “Lots of money in Boston.” She begins horsing around with her six-year-old half-brother, ribbing him for being rebellious the way she used to be. “He’s a child of the corn!” she wails. “He’s just like me.” (Her half-sister adds, “Like you, sharp but sweet.”) Bui says she thought that when Cardi hit it big, she wouldn’t see her in the salon again. “I told her, ‘You’re going to forget about me,’ ” Bui says. “And she said, ‘Never.’”

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

The Smile - Chapter 1/7

APairing: Loki x OFC

Summary of the story: She was a mutant with healing powers. Avengers were her family and she did all she could to protect them. She always tried to see the good in others. The smile. Beautiful and unique one was something she noticed in Loki and fell in love with. But not every love story ends the same way, and not every prince comes on his white horse and the story ends with a happy ending... Or maybe?

Story Warnings: Angst, a bit of violence, psychological issues like low self-esteem, depression, anxiety; swearing, eventual fluff and smut - maybe.

Summer of the chapter: The relationship between Loki and Anna is not good. As much as the girl tries her best to befriend him, he seems to hate her. So she decides to bake him a cake for his birthday. To make the best one, she makes some tests on the cupcakes.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, A bit of violence, psychological issues.

A/N: This is my first Loki story I have written, so I am quite excited. I planned to post it as a two-chapter story, each with around 10 000 words but assumed it was too much, so I will divide into 7 parts. I portray Loki as a bit of a dick here, so I hope you will bear with me and despite all this will enjoy reading this story, as much as I do writing it :) 

If you want to be tagged to this or any other of my stories, please send me an ask <3

Words: 3815

Love, friendship, kindness. It was not something Loki was familiar with, not something he has ever felt to anyone except his own mother. After her death, the God of Mischief decided to lock his heart and never let anyone get close to him. Especially now, when his stupid brother decided to make everything right and brought him back to Earth and made him join the Avengers. Thor's stupid belief that Loki can change was always laughable for him but here he was, in compound with all the people he tried to kill all the years ago. All except one.

He gazed at the girl in the kitchen who was happily humming under the nose to some song, blasting in her headphones. No worries in her. The small smile crept on her lips when she was slowly decorating the cupcakes she just made. Her free personality annoyed Loki. She was nice, kind-hearted and smiley. She was like a dame, happier version of this damn Captain America.

What annoyed him, even more, was the fact, that she wasn't even a part of the Avengers. With her mutant powers, she was nothing but a mere healer. An invisible person, who became needed only occasionally. She was so weak, that she always lost conscious and energy whenever she healed them. Yet she was always happy to help.

No one from this damn superhero group knew about her weakness. She always left the room before they would be able to see her fainting on the bed or falling asleep on the desk. They called her a doctor, but he saw her as nothing but an annoyance. A pathetic Midgardian that was too stupid to know her own limits. Too stupid to stay away from him.

He was annoyed with her stubbornness when it came to be healing and helping the team, but what he hated the most about her was this smile and look she was always giving him. Whether as a welcome, goodbye or just whenever he was unlucky enough to end up in the same room as her.

He grimaced not understanding why his brother was so fond of her. She was nothing special, not even to look at. Being on Earth for a while now he has seen some really beautiful women. Romanoff and Maximoff could be added to that list. But her? Her body was not as slim as the other women on the team. He could see some of the body folds whenever she decided to put a T-shirt that was more into the body. No. She wasn't fat, maybe just more rounded than the other two. Her face was decent. Yes, this would be a word he would use to describe it. A nose that was a bit bigger than at other girls, cheeks a little plum, making her face more round than oval, something he found himself to be attracted to. Her blonde hair was semi-long, normally kept in a ponytail or a half-bun. She never wore makeup. The only thing he was mesmerised by her were her eyes. Green, not too big, not too small. He was mad that those beautiful eyes could not be accompanied by a better-looking face.

He huffed with annoyance when he caught her eyes and her smiling at him in a friendly way. He was a God of Mischief, the same one who once attacked earth and NY. Was she really that stupid to not fear him? Or her idiotic run so deep that she just didn't care?

Without a word he got up from the couch, and without a word he left the room, not wanting to waste any more time to look at the woman he despised.

**

Baking and cooking were always something she enjoyed. Being better at the latter one, she was always super satisfied whenever her baking came out as she wanted it to. And now it looked like it would actually work. She smiled, putting the decoration on one of the cupcakes. She wished the cake she was planning on making in few days from today would come out as pretty as this.

She blushed thinking of the occasion. She was able to gather the information about Loki's birthday from Thor and was now making a mini version of the cake that she planning to make for him. What Thor said, Loki hadn't had a cake since was a kid. Their mother used to make sure they have one when they were kids, but when they grew up, the birthdays were not as celebrated anymore. Too much hassle.

But she didn't think about it as a hassle. Loki has been here for half a year now. He seemed to be getting a bit closer to the Avengers, but she felt like he was always keeping a cold, almost freezing distance from her. Therefore, she decided to make him a birthday cake as a warm-up.

She was quite pathetic she knew. There she was, having a stupid crush on a man who didn't even want to spend time with her in the same room. But she saw him not as a God of Mischief, but as Loki. A part of a team. She always wondered if there would ever be a day, she would bring the beautiful smile she only saw a couple of time, to his lips. She hoped that once she would be able to erase this anger and intimidated hatred from his eyes. And one day, she would be able to just sit with him on a coach and have a semi-formal conversion with him, just like Bucky and Sam had.

Both boys seemed to become quite good friends with God, to everyone's surprise. Maybe because they were not a part of the NY fight. But to her happiness, she has noticed that the rest of the team did not seem to be so much against him anymore. She was happy for him. Even if he hated her.

The smile disappeared from her lips when he stood up abruptly and sending her an annoyed look, left the room.

Who was she kidding? He hated her. And she knew that. She wasn't stupid. Because of her anti-social behaviour, anxiety and low self-esteem, she learned to read people better than anyone else. Keeping to herself, away from the spotlight, hidden in the shadow, it was the only thing she could do.

She wasn't blind as well. She wasn't a goddess and being in the same room as Natasha and Wanda did not help her with her low self-esteem. But she did not expect Loki to fall in love with her. All she wanted was for him to just look at her without this hatred and disgust in his eyes.

She bit her lip, to stop the tears from flowing. For the Avengers, she was this strong, kind-hearted healer. But deep down inside she was weak, she was evaluating her every move, every word ever spoken to anyone. And she has swooped herself to sleep with crying more times than it was humanly possible. But in the morning, she raised her face with cold water and smiled at all the mainland again. They were the only people she dared to call friends in her life, and she feared that if she would ever show them her weakness, they would just turn their backs at her. Because she was their healer. She needed to be strong and if not for herself then for them.

"This looks amazing, doll!" She jumped surprised to hear a low, husky voice behind her. She turned around and put her most beautiful fake smile to the man.

"If you wait 3 more minutes till it cools down, you can have one, Bucky" the man smiled and leaned behind not leaving his eyes off the girl.

"Is this the sample for Loki's birthday gift?" She blushed and nodded. Bucky was not the only one who knew about her little, stupid crush. It seemed like Loki himself was the only who didn't know. And maybe Thor... but well, she was not surprised by this. Thor was... just Thor. "It does look lovely" she beamed at him from complement and took one of the mini-cakes and handed it to him.

She felt pride rising inside her when the ex-Winter Soldier hummed in appreciation, taking another bigger bite.

"If your heart did not belong to this idiot, I would have already courted you!" She laughed at his remark, happy to see him enjoy your cooking as much.

"Here. You can take mine as well", he raised his brow at you not sure if you were serious. "I don't feel like having anything sweet today." If you were being serious you were trying to lose some of that fat from your stomach. You stopped eating so much, gave up on sweets and started to wake up early (even before Steve) to go for a run. You already lost a couple of kilos and you were finally able to not look at yourself with disgrace. It has been more than a month. No one, of course, noticed, as you were wearing baggy clothes. You decided to show off when you would finally come to the body image you liked. You were forcing yourself to believe that it was for your own self-esteem, but deep down you knew that you did that, hoping Loki would enjoy your new image... "I'm going to leave the others in the fridge. Make sure not to eat them all. There is one for everyone." She smiled and took one of the cupcakes into the plate.

"And this one is for?" Barnes asked, smirking at the girl mischievously.

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to, Sergeant" she winked at him playfully and left the kitchen, heading straight to HIS room.

**

She was so nervous when she knocked at his doors. Almost as nervous as the time she asked a guy out to the prom. It did not end well. He laughed at her face and closed the doors in front of her face. This time she hoped it will end better.

With a plate in the hand, she sent him a big smile when he appeared on the other side of the doors. He looked taken back by her little visit but didn't say anything, just kept staring at her.

"I made some cupcakes if you'd like to try?" She was telling herself that the only reason she came here was that she needed to know whether he liked it or not. There was still some time to change something. Some more days to practice something new.

He looked at the plate and frowned, and then his eyes travelled back at her. Did he look... annoyed?

"I'm not hungry" he stated lazily, his voice full of venom, which made her shrink inside.

"That's... that's ok, you can always eat it later. Just let me know what you think ok?" She answered happily, which made him even angrier.

"I said I'm not hungry!" He raised his voice just a bit, sending a shiver down her spine. "Plus, I'm not a fan of sweets! You can just eat it yourself!" And with that he closed the doors right near her nose, making the plate with the cupcake fall right onto the floor.

She just stood there looking down at the mess. Of course, the plate needed to fall upside down so the whole cupcake was now on the carpet... she bit her lip hard, feeling the tears creeping in her eyes. She crouched and started to clean that up before anyone would be able to see her pathetic state. Of course, with her luck in life, she tensed hearing a familiar, beaming voice behind her.

"Hello, little one!" Thor said happily. "I tried the cupcakes. Wonderful job" he then got a bit quiet and a small smirk appeared on his lips. "I'm sure my brother will find them enduring", she swallowed hard and got up with the plate. "What happened, little one?" He asked with concern in his eyes. He looked at the plate with widened eyes.

"It's ok I dropped the cupcake by accident" she answered smiling to him, hoping he would not be able to read through the fake gesture. "Plus, I don't think Loki would be happy to have a cake... he told me he hates sweets." You sent him one more smile and walked away to the elevator to ride to your room. You needed to hide, from Thor, Loki, from everyone.

It was like high school once again. No, it was much worse now. Because you just realised that the fear you had in your head has become true. He really hated you. The man you were falling in love with, hated her.

**

Thor was looking at her back, and he was sure he saw tears in her beautiful eyes. Loki hated sweets. Since when?

He knocked on the door and waited for his brother to answer. He had some questions he needed answers and his brother seemed like the man to ask.

"I told you I don't want your..." Loki stopped seeing his brother on the other side. "Oh, it's only you."

"Since when do you not like sweets?" Thor asked with a raised brow and arms crossed at his chest. His younger brother's eye twitched in an annoyance.

"Did she tattle on me?" He asked sarcastically, leaning on the door frame, the mischievous smirk on his lips. The blonde looked at his younger brother and sighed.

"Do you not like the little one?" Loki frowned seeing this stupid frown on his brother's face. Despite the strength and the great position, he has always been an idiot, which annoyed Loki even more.

"What not to like? The annoying smile or the pathetic will to be seen stronger than she really was?" He answered with irritation, clenching his jaw. "She annoys me, truly. I do not see what you the Avengers see in her. She is a pitiful example of everything that is wrong with Midgardians." He snorted unamused, seeing the anger in his brother's face. "She's always around, sending these exasperated smiles. Her body is too weak for her to use the power, but she's too proud to show you guys, that she is indeed just a mere, wretched human, so she pushes herself to the limits until she loses her conscious. Really moving! I can really see why you love this kind so much, brother of mine!" The smirk never left Loki's lips, until Thor threw a punch to his face, sending him to the floor.

"I have brought you here with me, to this place I call home. I brought you here, because I believed you can change, and we can be a family once again. I was so happy seeing you opening up to the Avengers... I was pleased to see the little one taking an interest in you. Do you know why?" He took a dangerous step towards, the now standing, God. "She has saved our lives more times than I can count. And I am not only talking about her powers. She sees us all. The way we are, the way no one else sees us." His voice was low and filled with Venom. Something Loki has found to be used by his older brother only towards his enemies. "She was the first one to see Steve and not Captain America. She was the one who spent nights to learn the sign language for Barton. She went through all the struggle to get Natasha to see the ballet. Something she hated and loved at the same time. She was also the one, that helped Tony and Bucky to communicate. She was the one that stayed near Barnes' bed, whenever he had nightmares. She was also the one that made me believe that I do not have to be what everyone expects of me. That I am who I am, and I should not live up to anyone's expectations. And you know what else?" He pushed the man into the wall, hovering over him with anger in his eyes. "She was the one that talked me into bringing you here. The one to talk to the Avengers saying that everyone deserved a second chance. You are here because everyone owes her something. You are here because she believed in you when no – one did. Even me." Thor took a step away and turned to the doors, his fists clenched in a fit of anger. "You are wrong about her, Loki. She is not weak. She is the strongest person I know!"

**

Her encounter with Loki has left her in a state of complete anxiety. Her low self-esteem was kicked even more, and she wasn't sure anymore what she hated about herself more. The way she looked, her voice, her thoughts, the smile, or the cooking that seemed to not bring her any more happiness. It has become some kind of a routine, that she didn't enjoy. There was nothing she truly enjoyed anymore. It wasn't just a case of a stupid heartbreak. She started to see herself with Loki's eyes. She once again started to analyse her every word, every move, which led her to speak less and less, and only answering when she was asked a question.

Her running has become a sad routine as well. She has become more aware of anyone seeing her, so she made sure that she woke up early enough to not see Steve on his way to his morning jogs.

She worked more, staying overnight more times than it was necessary. She found herself taking extra hours almost every day, only not to go home.

Home. This word seemed so distant. She never had one. Her mother gave her away to the shelter when she was just an infant. She was moving from a family to a family. Never staying with anyone longer than a year. When she finished 18 years old S.H.I.E.L.D found her and gave her a proposition to become a medic. They paid for her medic school and gave her new life. But she did not feel it like home. Until she met the Avengers. This misfunctioning group of superheroes seemed to be as lost in this world as she was, and it made her become close to all of them. She enjoyed their every smile and conversations. She felt needed, she felt like... Loved in a most platonic, but beautiful way. She felt like home.

When Thor told her about his brother being locked up in the cell once again, she wanted to make things right for him. When proposed to bring him in and make him a part of the Avengers, she did not know this would become one of the most painful decisions in her life.

His sarcastic humour, the smirking and witty comments made her always smile under her nose. She always wanted to have the same confidence as he had. The spark in his eyes, whenever he defeated someone with his comeback, made her feel a bit warmer inside. A bit stronger. With the time she was able to hear his soft laugh and occasional chuckles and she found herself hoping one day it will be her that would bring this out of him.

But this has never happened. For a reason, she did not understand why he omitted her. He looked at her with a disgrace, hate and disgust. He left the room whenever she walked in. Scoffed whenever she smiled or said good morning. His stories always stopped whenever he caught her listening. For all the months she thought that she was just seeing things. But she finally grew up and realised that she must stop kidding herself. The man hated her. And she was stupid enough to fall in love with him.

He made her feel not only worthless but made her doubt whether the home she believed she had, was real. It was only now, she understood that there was no way or a good reason for people like the Avengers to hang up with her. She was just one of the agents. Occasionally healing their scars, after they came back from saving the world. She was just one of many. So, she has decided to hide in the shadows again, and become as invincible as she could.

And here she was, doing paperwork on a Saturday night. As pathetic as it was, she did not even feel like going back home, to the lonely and cold bed. She felt alone and unwanted again. The same odd feeling she had whenever personnel from the shelter told her about another month, she needed to spend there, because no one wanted her.

**

Loki hasn't seen the girl in their level since their cupcake encounter. It looked like she just disappeared from the compound. There was still the smell of the dinner or the cookies and other bakeries, but she was nowhere to be seen. She hasn't even encountered any of the Avengers dinners, that Stark normally invited her to. She always used an excuse of 'filled with too much paperwork' whenever anyone from the team tried to get her to join.

There was once a time in a cafeteria that he noticed her. She had her headphones on and was waiting to pay for an awfully looking salad. He remembered her always joking about 'not being a horse to eat a salad'. And there she was with something that probably should not even be called one. He did not understand how someone who cooked so well for the team, could be eating something so disgraceful.

There was something different about her as well. She was always smiling at the workers or trying to engage in the small talk. But not that day. She was quite sending the woman over the counter a fake smile. He grimaced at the black bags under her eyes, which did not have the light they always had. Her oval face has lost some weight and looked a bit hollow. She looked unhealthy and very unhappy.

He didn't understand why he kept his eyes on her for so long, but something twitched at him when she looked around and met his eyes. It was just for a couple of seconds. He expected a smile, and maybe a wave of a hand, but she lowered her head, in an almost bow, and without any other gestured, left the cafeteria. Probably coming back to her work.

The words spoken by his older brother were still stuck to him. Would he still believe that this girl was strong if he saw her today? He scoffed annoyed and left the place as well, feeling more and more eyes on his figure. He was still, after all the topic of discussion.

Master list

[bimbosanddolls]

I was returning from a walk around my new neighbourhood when I was approached by a pretty young woman getting back from a run. I recognized her as my next door neighbour.

“Hi there, you just moved in here, right?” The attractive brunette asked me. She epitomized the ‘girl next door’ look. She was wearing a grey running top that didn’t appear to be much more than a sports bra and yoga pants that revealed her lovely figure. I could tell that this girl either put a lot of effort into her fitness or was blessed genetically. 

“Yes, I did. I’m Mr. Legion.” I extended my hand to her.

“Hi, uhh, Mr. Legion. Welcome to Garnet Hills.” she shook my hand, “I’m Julie. Nice to meet you.”

“Why thank you. Nice to meet you, Julie.” I studied the girl carefully. She was a natural beauty. The kind of girl that could turn heads without putting on even a bit of makeup. “Tell me, have you always fantasized about being a fuck doll?” 

“What?! Ew? What the hell is wrong with you?” She was repulsed by the question, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I apologize, do you not dream about being a dolled up sex toy?” I asked her flatly. 

The boldness of my question caught Julie off-guard. “No! I mean… kind of. Yeah. But… I.. umm… how did you know?” 

I smiled and patted her on the shoulder, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. Just enjoy what’s about to happen.”

“Wha- wha- do you … what’s happening?” Julie immediately felt herself begin to change. Her skin became totally flawless, even the slightest of imperfections were erased as her body developed an artificial shine, “I… I’m becoming a doll!” 

She felt the shape of her breast change to large, perfectly round mounds that expanded as if they were balls being inflated. She lifted her top to reveal her plasticized breasts, her hands lingering on her life-like looking nipples, “How.. how are you doing this?” Her eyes filled with both worry and an increasing arousal, “It feels sooo good.” She whispered as her voice began to fade away.

“As you can tell, I have certain ‘powers’ that allow me to change things,” I decided to give my soon-to-be former neighbour an explanation. “In a few moments, you will be a real sex doll. You’ll still be inside there somewhere, though. So… try to enjoy it.”

She moaned in ecstasy as all three of her holes became smooth, rounded pockets; her mouth remaining open in a sensual O-shape. Dolly feel good. Need holes filled. Owner play with Dolly? Julie found her thoughts shifting. Her memories, interests, dislikes all disappearing as her new reality set in. She felt her limbs become stiff and the weight seemed to fade from her body completely as she became nothing more than a hollow plastic toy. 

I examined the doll closely. I knew that Julie, or a part of her, was in there somewhere but her eyes gave no indication of that. The doll stared straight ahead, its eyes vacant and unblinking. Nothing more than painted on features. 

Satisfied that the transformation was complete, I picked up the doll and brought her inside. I released the tiny plug on her back and watched as the sex toy deflated. I put the deflated dolly in a box which I then labelled “Julie - Girl Next Door”.  

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Chapter 3

Title: Falling for the Holidays

Pairing: Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 2453

Summary: With October ending and the holidays underway, that only meant one thing for Dean Winchester. It meant returning to his childhood home and spending time with his family. It meant listening to his parents, especially his mom, ramble on and on about when he was going to find himself a nice girl, bring her home for the holidays, and then eventually get married and have children.  However, Dean wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, so in order to get his family off his back, he comes up with an elaborate scheme! But like the saying goes, “sometimes lies become truths.”

Warnings: Crack, Language, and some fluff?

A/N: Chapter 3 is here! I just want to give thanks again to everyone that’s been so supportive! You guys are amazing! Therefore, this chapter is dedicated to all of you! Please tell me what you think. This is my first series and I could use all the support I can get. Thanks again everyone!!

Series Masterlist

That night, after finishing your shift at Ms. Tea’s Coffee Shoppe, Dean picked you up and brought you back to your apartment for a quick wardrobe change. While you fixed your makeup, Dean plopped down on your bed, complaining about how girls always took so damn long to get ready.

“Hey, do you want my help or not?” You chided, swiveling in your chair to face him, arms crossed.

“N-no. Please, help me!” Dean cried. “Please!”

“Okay, then shut your pie hole!”

“First of all, it’s cake hole,” Dean corrected.

“Does it matter?” You rolled your eyes dramatically, Dean catching glimpse of the action in the mirror.

“I just don’t see why you need to put on all that makeup. I mean, you’re already gorgeous without it,” he stated nonchalantly, as if it was a natural thing to say.

Something inside your stomach flipped, but you figured it was the initial compliment that threw you off. You weren’t expecting it. “Thanks Dean, but other guys might not think so, so… I’m getting dolled up.”

“Pfft. Then those guys are idiots.” Dean got up from the bed, making his way toward you. The beat of your heart picked up, your breath hitching in your throat. Why was he coming over? What was he going to do? “Hey,” he said with a soft voice, stopping behind you. At his point you were holding your breath. “I remember this picture,” he laughed wholeheartedly, pulling the photo from the corner of your vanity mirror.

“Seriously?” You deadpanned, a little disappointed and annoyed that he was interested in a damn photo.

“Yeah! This was the night we all first hung out!” He beamed, reminiscing the day. “Who knew the friend you were bringing was my cousin, Jo. Small world,” he grinned.

“Yeah, and I had no idea you were besties with a guy from one of the wealthiest people in… possibly the whole world!”

“Ha. Cass was a weirdo went I met him. I think that’s what sold me. Didn’t even know who he was back then. I didn’t even care about money back in preschool,” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, muttering “obviously! All you probably cared about was hot wheels and no catching cooties.”

“Hey, cooties were a big deal!” Dean exaggerated. You shook your head at his nonsense and snatched the picture out of Dean’s hands, placing it back in its spot before ordering him to get out of your way. “You’re bossy,” he grumbled, pouting like a child before doing as he was told, flopping himself on the bed again. “By the way, your bed is too small,” he remarked, sticking his tongue out when you made eye contact.

“You’re a child,” you giggled.

As you were putting on mascara, your lips naturally parted, concentrating on where you were applying. In your peripherals, you noticed Dean watching behind you. His body propped upright as he leaned a little in attempt to watch what you were doing from his spot on the bed. His mouth was hanging open similar to yours.

When you stopped, relaxing your lips and dipping the mascara brush back into its bottle, Dean whole body went lax. Then, as you took out the mascara brush and brought it back to your other eye, Dean perched upwards, his face mimicking the one you made once more. This time, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Dean! What the hell, man?” You giggled.

“What?!” He asked defensively. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re being a dork!”

“What? No I’m not! I’m just sitting here.” Dean was confused. It was clear in his face that he had no idea what you were talking about. To him, he really wasn’t doing anything, just merely watching you apply black stuff to your eyelashes.

“Done!” You chirped, causing Dean to groan with relief, grabbing your keys and purse for you as he waited by the door. “Dude, chill.” It was easy to sense Dean’s impatience. He was trying to rush you even if he wasn’t saying anything. His anxiety was pouring out of him.

“I can’t chill. I need to find myself a girl before thanksgiving.” Dean sighed, mentally cursing himself for getting in this situation in the first place.

You patted him on the shoulder in attempt to make him feel better, “what’s done is done. We’ll figure it out. Or… you can just call your mom and tell her the truth.”

“No, you have no idea how quick things spread around back home. I’m sure everyone knows by now that I’m bringing a girl home. This is already too big to fix. My mom would be crushed, not to mention embarrassed. I can’t do that to her.”

Sighing in defeat, you looked up at the tall man in front of you. He stared back with his pleading mossy eyes that he knew you could never resist. “Dammit, Dean!” You breathed out with frustration. “C’mon. Let’s get.”

Dean smiled, pulling you into a big hug. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best friend in the world?!”

“Don’t get it twisted! I better be getting an amazing Christmas present from you!” You mumbled against his shirt.

“As long as it’s reasonable, I’ll get you anything!” He kisses your forehead before opening the door and dragging you out with him.

Finally making it to the bar, it was a typical Friday night. Packed, loud, and good vibes all around. Once you reached the bar, you didn’t even have time to order a drink before a man was hitting on you. Dean frowned, having an urge to punch him in the face and tell him to get lost, but he resisted. Jealousy wasn’t something Dean felt often, so he brushed it off, believing that he was just annoyed because you were supposed to be helping him, not getting cozy with some random douche.

Dean was scowling, glaring daggers at the man when they made eye contact. The guy cleared his throat as he noticed Dean squaring his shoulders and expanding his chest, presenting himself like an alpha male.

“Oh, sorry. Are you two together?” The guy asked, looking to you than Dean.

Before you could answer, Dean jutted in. “Yeah, we are,” he revealed, licking his lips before flashing a tense smile, squinting his eyes as he did.

Your eyes widened and as the guy left, you whipped around shooting daggers at your best friend. “Dude!”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me. You’re supposed to be helping me remember!”

“Dean, yeah, I’m going to help you. Doesn’t mean a girl can’t get free drinks!” Dean looked down at you feeling like an idiot. For a moment, he forgot that was your signature move when hitting up the bars and clubs. You’d play a guy for drinks before leaving him high and dry. It was cruel, but it was fucking brilliant. Girls really did rule the world. They only made men believe they were in control.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I guess I’m just really stressing out,” he confessed.

“Just chill, alright. C’mon, I’ll buy the first round.”

With beers in hand, you scanned the room in search for a potential woman Dean could bring home to meet his family. Your eyes flashed passed a head full of blond curls, her breasts protruding out of her tight halter top, but you couldn’t see her face, but you figured it wouldn’t matter too much. Busty blonde was usually Dean’s type so you pointed in her direction.

“Who?” Dean asked.

“There. Busty blond, one o’clock.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath before heading over to her. You slipped out of your seat, wanting to get closer to the action, finding a spot close enough to see and hear the interaction go down. From where you were standing, you gasped when you saw her face. This wasn’t good, but it was going to be a moment to remember. You quickly pulled out your phone, getting the video camera ready before aiming it at Dean and the blonde.

“Hi, excuse me,” Dean started, tapping her on the shoulder.

“Hey there hon,” the blonde turned, bright red lips smiling at him, and accentuated features ogling over his body. Her voice was deep enough to know that this SHE, was actually a HE.

Dean’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at the low voice that came past her lips, her features easily telling him that this woman was a man in drag! “S-Sorry, I just need to get through,” Dean managed a smile, scooting past the blonde and her actual female friends.

You were stifling your laughter just as he reached you, his expression unimpressed. “I swear, I didn’t know until it was too late,” you blurted through your laughing fit.

“Yeah, that’s why you had your phone out recording me!” He hissed, snatching the phone from your hand.

“Oh, c’mon! It was funny! So fucking funny,” you continued to laugh, trying to take back what was yours, and more importantly, save the video. “Dean give it back!”

“Not after I erase it,” he growled.

“Dean no! I need it! I’m gonna miss you when you’re gone for the holidays and I’m going to need that to make me smile and laugh when I feel lonely,” you finished your rant with a soft voice, pulling your chin down to your chest and looking up at him with big sad eyes.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean groaned, dropping the phone back in your hands, a wide smile taking over your face.

“You love me!” You cheered, hugging him and kissing him on the cheek, a gesture you’ve done many times before, but this was the first time Dean’s cheeks heated up.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now, seriously. Help me find someone.”

“Okay, okay.”

You and Dean returned back to the bar, scoping out the sea of people. You suggested a few girls but it just didn’t seem to work out. According to Dean, they were either, too high maintenance, not his type, or too over the top.

“This is impossible,” he sighed, running his hand down his face before raking his fingers through his hair, when he returned from talking to a cute red head.

“What was wrong this time?” You pondered out loud.

“Chick is still hung over her ex-boyfriend. Wouldn’t stop going on and on about him. Did you know, Trevor’s dick is named Armstrong, because it’s huge and strong?” He snapped.

“Ew! Way too much information,” you laughed. “Alright. My bad. Maybe we can try a different bar?” You suggested.

“But this is the most popular pub around. Everyone is here.” Dean turned to face the bar, signaling for another beer when a woman called his name.

“Dean?” You and Dean turned around to find a chocolate skinned woman with gorgeous mop of curls atop her head. She was in a fitter red dress, and you had to admit, she looked good. Tall too.

“C-Cassie?” Dean stammered. You looked over at Dean curiously, noticing that he was suddenly nervous. Who was this girl? Maybe she could act as his fake girlfriend?!

“Wow, I knew it was you! It’s been a long time! You look really good Dean. You’re still as handsome as I remember. How old were we when we dated? Fourteen?” She laughed, her eyes finally meeting yours. You smiled in good nature, but it instantly faded when she snobbed you.

Your jaw dropped in surprise. What the hell did she have against you?! Taking offense to it, you hissed, “Bitch,” under your breath, just audible enough so no one could hear.

“Yeah. We were pretty young back then, huh?” Dean chuckled awkwardly.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you interrupted, shoving yourself between this Cassie person and Dean, “I’m Dean’s girlfriend,” you snapped, sticking our hand out for her to shake.

“Cassie,” she reluctantly returned the gesture. “Anyways, I guess I’ll see you around, Dean. Nice meeting you… what was your name again?”

“Y/N. You have a good night Courtney,” you replied.

“It’s Cassie,” she scoffed.

“Have a good night,” you faked a smile, staring at her until she left. Turning around, you caught Dean looking down at you with a smug smirk, his eyes twinkling with delight. “No,” you growled.

“I didn’t say anything,” he smiled, licking his lips as he did.

“You didn’t have to,” you got back on your seat, motioning for another drink, ordering a shot of whiskey.

“Y/N,” Dean cooed. You already knew what he was thinking the moment you caught him smiling.

“No Dean. No.” There was no use repeating yourself. You knew he was going to say it.

“Were you jealous?”

You twisted your head in his direction, with a hard scowl, only to find him beaming and elated. “I said, no!” Arms wrapped themselves around you, as he buried his head in your shoulder, his body shaking with amusement. “Dean, get off. I told you that I wasn’t,” you tried to wiggle out of his hold.

“Wait a minute…”

“What?” You questioned, still wrapped up in Dean’s arms. “Dean, what is it?” You asked again. His lips curled upwards and his eyes widened. “Seriously, if you don’t tell me what’s up, I will punch you in the balls,” you threatened this time.

“You!” Dean squealed, uncharacteristically, flinging his body away from yours but still holding your arms.

“Me? What? And what the hell was that sound?”

“You! Y/N, you!” He laughed.

“That’s it! Let me go, I’m gonna punch you in the balls!” You wiggled in attempt to get free.

“You can me my fake girlfriend!” You froze at Dean’s words. The madness of the idea was through the roof.

“No. No, no, no! Absolutely not!” You mumbled, finally breaking free from Dean, hopping off your seat and heading towards the door.

“Y/N, c’mon! It’s a great idea!” He called after you, taking hold of your arm when he finally caught up.

“Dean, I am your best friend. I want to be able to come around in the future without having to keep up a lie that we were once ‘fake together’. If it were that simple, I would have suggested it from the very beginning.” Your stare was hard and stern, making sure that he understood how serious you were.

“It’ll all work out, I promise, please!” Dean pleaded, doing that darn puppy dog face.

“Ugh,” you moaned, trying to look away from him. That damn face would be the death of you. “Fine. Fine! You are so annoying! Like, so annoying. I better be getting a house for my Christmas present! You understand me? A house!” You vociferate.

“Yes! You know I love you right?” The cheeky man grinned like an idiot.

“A house, Dean!”

Say Something Nice Here!

Falling for the Holidays Tags: @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @winchesterprincessbride @amanda-teaches @dancingalone21 @a-winchester-fairytale @dolphincliffs @oneshoeshort @brewsthespirit-blog @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @atc74 @natasha-baggins @heavymetalhauswife @linki-locks11 @spnwoman @veevm @chameleah86 @kdcollinsauthor @claitynroberts @roonyxx @rainflowermoon @ladylaylo @closetspngirl @mirandaaustin93

[penelopelovesalvez]

A Lucky Night- Chapter 11

Here is my multi-chapter pic featuring characters I do not own from Criminal Minds, Alvez x Garcia, in a story of my own creation. It picks up at the end of 13.5.

Warning: Some chapters contain smut. While many do not, the ones that do are definitely 18+, NSFW.

Please feel free to re-blog and review! Please ask for permission before posting on any other platform.

It seemed like only a minute had passed as Luke and Penelope sat before the beautiful, electric fire trading lazy, sensual kisses. Suddenly they felt the engine cut out and the boat stopped swaying. A knock sounded at the cabin door, and they heard Captain John’s voice informing them they had docked.

“Do we have to leave the boat?” Penelope asked, her lower lip shaped into a perfect pout, the kind a Hollywood starlet in the 1920’s would have built a career on. “This afternoon, just the two of us, has been so perfect and I’m not sure I’m ready for reality just yet.”

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry Chica, but that’s a yes. We’ve got places to be. Up with you, or we’re gonna be late,” he said, standing and then reaching his hands out to her. He easily pulled her off the sofa, and directed her ahead of him to exit the cabin, slapping his leg for Roxy to follow. He pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text as they climbed the narrow oak stairs that led back out to the deck.

They gathered their things, and reattached Roxy’s leash. Shaking hands with Captain John and exclaiming their absolute delight at the experience, they conveyed their hopes to return again in the future. Then they descended the narrow stairs again and crossed the gangway to the dock. Hand in hand they walked back up the wooden dock, turning back once to wave at Captain John. When they reached the parking lot Luke again opened the door of the truck for Penelope and helped her climb into the cab. This time he placed Roxy in the kennel that was secured in the truck bed. Stopping for a moment at the tailgate, he checked the text he’d received. Then he slammed the tailgate shut and rounded the car, opening the door and swinging himself up.

Penelope had been looking at herself in the mirror on the back of the visor. Ugh, she looked awful. Not a trace of the morning’s carefully- applied makeup remained. It had been erased by the spray of the water and the wind. In its place, however, was the faintest sunburn on her cheekbones and a bit of wind burn on her lips. Or maybe they’re swollen from all the kissing she’d been doing. Well, regardless of the reason, she was looking like a hot mess. Repairs were definitely needed to both hair and makeup if they were not done with this adventure. She sure hoped he didn’t think he was going to be walking her straight into some fancy restaurant with platform sneakers, his hoodie, and frizz-tastic hair. For the love of God and all things fluffy, let the man take her to a bathroom with decent lighting and a plug for her curling wand. Hearing him open his door, she slammed the mirror closed and returned the visor to its original position. Turning towards her door, she pulled her seatbelt across her chest, buckling herself in.

“Off to Roxy’s dog sitter, right?” she asked, her voice a little bright with the false cheeriness she was projecting to cover up the sudden nerves at not knowing what was planned and the bit of insecurity she felt sitting next to the FBI’s own Puerto Rican Ryan Gosling without even her makeup as a security blanket.

“Actually, tiny adjustment in the timetable. We’re running a smidge late, so instead she is going to meet us at our next stop. Saves us having to double back, that way we can make up time and get to Alexandria,” Luke said, grinning over at her. “You’re going to need the go-bag you brought for our next stop. We will be changing- you did say you brought something for tonight, right? If not, I will be happy to swing by a shop and pick up something myself,” he said, licking his lip wolfishly and winking at her. “I’m sure I can pick out something sexy for you,” he practically growled low in his throat.

“Luke Matthew Alvez,” she giggled as he shook his head “no” at her latest guess. “Well, Luke whoever you are, you should know that I accomplish sexy all on my own, and I am definitely prepared. Give this beast an hour in a proper bathroom with what’s in that bag and she will emerge a beauty once more,” Penelope said, flipping her hair best she could with it spilling messily out of what had been a very charming braid some hours ago.

Luke stopped the car at the line as the light turned yellow to red. He turned and cupped her cheek. “You are gorgeous Chica, whether your hair is all tousled on the pillows in your bed or from the waves and wind. I get lost in your brown eyes, with or without the smoky eye makeup. And your lips- I can’t get enough of them. Sure, the red lipstick drives me wild. But I like them bare too, so long as they end up against mine,” he said quietly, leaning down to kiss her before the light changed. A car behind them honked the horn, and he turned his attention back to the road, lifting his foot off the break. “You’d look sexy tonight no matter what Penelope Grace, but I will enjoy seeing you all dolled up and watching everyone see how lucky I am,” he said, letting his right hand drop from the steering wheel to land on her leg. Massaging the muscles of her left thigh through the fabric of her denim skirt and leggings, he navigated them away from the marina and towards downtown.

Penelope contented herself with looking out the window, pondering what a smooth talker Mr. Strong and Silent turned out to be. She was enjoying the feel of his firm fingers pressing into the flesh of her thigh. Mmmmm, maybe she’d let him continue that later on this evening. Although… what if he’s one of those guys who are only in it for the chase, and once they’ve “had you” they’re off, looking for the next challenge. He did hunt fugitives for years… She’d better be cautious- you know what they say. Play with fire, you’ll wind up burned. Best to keep a firm grip on her heart until she knew if he’s really into her, and not just the challenge of nailing the girl who wouldn’t even make small talk with him last year…

Penelope let the somber thought slip away as they pulled into a parking garage firmly in the center of downtown Alexandria. Being one of the closest suburbs to Washington D.C. it was usually a pretty bustling area, especially on weekend nights. Most of the lower levels of the garage were already full of cars. Luke pulled them all the way to the top floor, where there were a surprising number of available parking spots. They pulled up next to a silver, older-model sedan. “Roxy’s sitter, Maggie. Thought it would be easier to make the exchange if we could actually pull up next to her so I told her to meet us at the top of the structure. Just let me get Roxy and her stuff loaded into her car, and we will be on our way down the elevator,” Luke said, sliding out of his door.

Penelope gathered her purse and her bag while Luke led Roxy to the back of the young woman’s car. She looked like a college student probably, nineteen or twenty years old. She was pretty, but wasn’t dressed in any way that seemed to obviously invite attention. She had on sweats and an old, faded graphic tee over a long sleeve shirt. Nothing flashy at all. Penelope wondered why a pretty young girl her age would rather spend Saturday nights at home with someone else’s dog, and made a note to ask Luke about her later. 

Luke returned to the car, collecting the button down and leather jacket he’d brought, as well as his dress shoes from earlier. They waved to Maggie as she and Roxy pulled out of the spot and headed down the levels of the parking garage. Luke took Penelope’s bag from her, and then placed her hand on his elbow as he escorted her to the elevator. He pressed the button for the lobby floor and they descended in the small, enclosed car. “So, do you have any idea where we are headed, Chica?” he asked, raising his eye brows. “Have you hacked my phone, read through my texts? Maybe run a search of business establishments within walking distance from the garage?” he teased, his dimple showing as he smirked at her. 

“Well Luke, I did consider sending a quick text to Reid. He could have answered the question regarding the establishments within a reasonable radius around the garage, and he would have automatically filtered based on a semi-casual dress code and likely locales for a first date, but I decided to just be surprised,” she said, with a saucy wink of her eye.

“Well, then it is good you want to be surprised my little troublemaker, because surprised you shall be. First off because where we are going would never have occurred to Reid, and it wouldn’t have shown up on one of your searches either based on those criteria. And, this is not our first date Chica,” Luke said, as the doors opened. He put his hand on her lower back, guiding her as they exited the elevator and turned right, heading down one of the main streets that ran the length of the downtown area. “Last night was our first date: sleepover. Chaperoned by Roxy, of course. I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he laughed, raising his pointer finger. Adding his middle finger, he continued, “Second was breakfast. Our third date was the boat ride at the marina,” he stated, ticking off his ring finger. Unfolding his pinky as well, he turned toward her and pronounced, “This is actually our fourth date, Penelope. I’m rather astonished that one who trades in information is paying so little attention to the milestones of our relationship,” he teased. They passed two more store fronts before Luke stopped them in front of an elegant brick building. “Here we are, Chica,” he said as he turned her to face the door they’d arrived at.

Penelope looked at the door, and then to the large picture window next to it. The curtains were drawn, but she could see clearly illuminated on the glass the scrolling letters that announced the shop’s name to passerby: Alex’s Day Spa and Salon. “Eeeeeek!” Penelope squealed. “You brought us to a spa?” she asked, spinning to face Luke.

Looking down at her, his eyes twinkling with laughter at her obvious delight. “Yes, we have an appointment here. Or actually, we have a few appointments. We will start with a half hour couple’s massage, and then we have a couple’s mani/pedi arranged before you get your hair and makeup done, and I get a trim and a straight-razor shave. How does that sound?” he asked, squeezing her hand in his.

“How does that sound?” she exclaimed. “That sounds, Luke Esteban Alvez, like our fourth date is already my favorite!” she shouted, throwing her arms around him exuberantly. “Is it? Esteban, I mean, is that your middle name?” she asked, her mouth reaching up as close to his ear as she could reach. He brought his own mouth down, pressing a kiss to her neck, his breath tickling her. “Not even close, Chica,” he chuckled. “Wait,” she said, “Why am I getting my hair and makeup done as well? We aren’t going somewhere after the salon, are we?” Penelope asked, wrinkling her eyebrows in confusion.

“Patience, Penny,” Luke chided. “One secret at a time.” Luke stepped back and held the door open so he could get her inside before her curious nature made them late for their appointments.

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

Makeup in the age of internet

I know a lot of girls these days are probably learning to do their makeup from their peers or from YouTube/Instagram, and I think this is a problem

my mom wouldn’t let me wear makeup (apart from lip gloss) until I was 11, and I wasn’t allowed to wear mascara until I was a teenager. I actually didn’t resent her for it like I imagine many girls would, but in retrospect I see exactly what she was thinking in doing this:

She was preventing her child from being sexualized

She was making sure that she would be the one to teach me how to do my makeup

now I don’t know how y’all’s moms taught you to do your makeup, but my mom utterly drilled this into my brain:

Makeup is not for changing your face; it is for accentuating the features you already have

So what are girls learning about makeup from the Internet? They’re learning to contour their cheekbones higher or lower, contour their noses narrower or perkier, add or erase freckles, overline their lips into shapes that make their smiles unrecognizable, etc.  Now I won’t deny there is real artistry involved in this, and there’s a time and place for all manner of makeup styles, but what kind of mindset is developing when a girl expends energy every day into making a completely new face for herself? Why are we teaching girls they look better as a certain type of woman instead of teaching them to see the beauty in their own features?

Mothers need to stop leaving their daughters’ beauty education in the hands of the culture, because culture will teach them there is a mold to fit. That the face God gave them isn’t good enough. Today’s culture tells me my nose is too bird-like, my forehead is too tall, my lips are too small, and my eyebrows aren’t symmetrical enough. Thanks to how my mom taught me, I know my nose is unique (I got it from my dad, after all), my forehead looks noble, my lips make me appear sweet & personable, and my eyebrows make me expressive.

And when I say a Certain Type of woman is perceived as “the goal,” this is what I mean:

Before the makeover, each woman looks like an (absolutely gorgeous) individual about whom I can learn something just by glancing at them. After the makeover, every single one of these women looks biologically related to the other. Every single woman has overlined her lips, donned fake lashes, contoured herself into a different ethnicity, and altogether looks like a Bratz doll.

I’m also gonna go out on a limb and say this is bad makeup, because beforehand we know that the focal point of their face is their eyes. Afterwards, we don’t know where to look, and because of this, we can’t pick up on any particular personality trait in their expressions. But this is the makeup that current Internet culture props up as the pinnacle. The ideal product of your time and money. And no matter how much we talk about artwork and skill, that’s just false. The ideal use of your powders and brushes is to bring attention to the features that make you You.

[beautysupply101]

Good Reasons To Get Permanent Eyeliner OKC

By Douglas Stevens

Makeup does more than just make you look fashionable. It also allows you to express your personal style, highlight your finest facial features and even mask imperfections. For the majorities of modern women, wearing makeup on a day to day basis is just as vital as brushing the teeth or taking a shower. If you are interested in getting permanent eyeliner OKC has a decent number of competent artists to offer. The process of applying makeup is tedious, not to mention that you may have to seek professional help if you lack the skills to do a perfect application job in person or you are living with a disability. Then again, quality makeup is expensive. If you would like to simplify your morning routines and still look stunning each day, you should schedule for permanent makeup sessions. One of the top reasons why you should get permanent eyeliner is because you will save a lot of time. Even if applying makeup is not rocket science to you, you are likely to spend between five and thirty minutes each day just getting spruced up. A cosmetic tattoo on the other hand can free up these activities, allowing you to extend your morning workout routine or simply take longer naps or showers. Cosmetics, especially quality brands are not easy on the wallet. Getting permanent eyeliner will certainly be worth it because you will save a lot of money each year. The artist will only ask for a one-time fee and the service offered will serve you for five straight years without the need to make an additional investment. Getting dolled up is not an easy task for those that are disabled. In fact, some women cannot do their own makeup because of conditions like blindness or even arthritis. In this case, a session with a competent artist would be empowering. The professional would ensure that you wake up looking and feeling as beautiful as you did when you went to bed. Women in active professions would also find cosmetic tattooing to be ideal. If the activities you do all day make you sweat and wipe off your face, wearing regular makeup may not make sense. Bear in mind that as you wipe your face, part of the makeup may be erased, leaving you with a very awkward look. Even athletes have a need to look good. In this case, you would be forced to wipe off the sweat on your face after every few minutes. With regular eyeliner, it would not come as a complete shock if you did not recognize the woman in the mirror after an hour in the field. To avoid stressing about wiping off part of your makeup accidentally, you should find the best artist within your area. Fighting cancer is already frustrating enough without having to bear with hair loss after chemotherapy. When fighting cancer, you are a warrior and this means you have a reason to look good and feel great. A reliable artist can give you permanent brows and eyeliner and this will restore your natural looks and reinstate normalcy into your life.

About the Author:

You can find an overview of the advantages and benefits of using professional permanent eyeliner OKC application services at http://bit.ly/2GBMGx4 today.

http://bit.ly/2GK2UnQ

[trashweavings]

July 29th, 1996, 7:24 AM, a baby was born to two poor, Vietnamese immigrants in Fountain Valley, California’s Regional Hospital. The baby was promptly declared a girl, and that may have been the worst thing that could have happened to that baby. Because from the moment the hospital said, “it’s a girl” that baby became a “she” that she would never be able to live up to, and within our patriarchal society, being unable to live up to your gender is one of the worst things you can do.

Her parents chose to give her the name Natalie Ngoc Duong. Ngoc, the middle name given to her and her two older brother meant jade. The middle name was chosen in hopes to give the child a chance of wealth that her parents didn’t have. 

Duong, the last name, was taken from her father to indicate that she belongs to the father and will continue his lineage.

Natalie was chosen because her father admired the actress Natalie Wood. He wanted his daughter to not be trapped by her Vietnamese status and able to assimilate better into the white culture he admired in America. He wanted his daughter to have the grace and beauty and femininity of an old Hollywood actress.

See, when a parent names their child, they’re putting their hopes of what that child will be into those words. Those words aren’t just what that child makes those words to be, but also, they shape the child. Many people may think, “a name is a name. It doesn’t make a difference. It’s just a word,” but when they say that, they fail to understand the fundamental power that language has. That girl was me. Or maybe that girl “is” me. I’ve felt the weight of what my parents wanted from me before I could even explain what it meant to feel pressure. 

Kleinman touches on this in her text “Why Sexist Language Matters.” In that text, she talks about the pervasiveness of male-coded language, and why it is problematic. Saying the words “you guys” , “freshman” , “chairman” , etc. as the default is dangerous because despite people saying it is innocuous, in reality, they are saying that the default in our society is man. Using “you guys” to refer to a full of group of women isn’t an innocent act, it inadvertently reduces women into nothingness. They can’t even be acknowledged if they are the only in the room. Language is how we describe and experience the world around us. People say they’re just words, but where do the words come from other than our human selves and the way we treat and view others around us.

So, the name “Natalie” was never right for me. Maybe I could still be the me that I am now with that name, but when I changed my name to Ryn, it was like all the weight of my parents’ gendered expectations on me were lifted off of me. It was like all the times that people looked at me in confusion when a queer body introduced themselves at Natalie was erased from my history, and I was rewriting my narrative. 

I think it disappointed my family when I changed my name. My parents wanted so badly for me to fit the mold of a girl. For a while I really wanted to be that too. Not just for more parents, but because I didn’t know I had any other options. From the moment I was born, from the moment a human is born, the world imposes endless amounts of expectations and standards on that person. Gender is taught and enforced onto a person often even before they were born.  

I figured out I wasn’t good at being a girl when I was 5 years old. I liked to play with Barbie dolls growing up, even when I was allowed to play with my brother’s Legos and transformers, I always chose Barbie dolls. In my Kindergarten class, a boy made fun of me for playing with my Barbie dolls because they were girly and weak, so I pushed him over and he started crying. I got sent to time out for making him cry, but I was so mad. Boys got to push each other all the time. Why couldn’t I?

Because girls don’t get to be boys. Girls have to be sweet. They have to be soft. They have to be gentle. They have to be all the things I couldn’t make myself be no matter how hard I tried. 5 years old was the first time that I realized, I was never going to live up to the name my parents gave me, and I felt endless guilt for it. 

The reason doing gender wrong is one of the worst things you can do is because of the patriarchy. Our society centers around the power dynamic between men and women. Our social practices, our economy, our media, everything can relate back to patriarchy. In a patriarchy, everything is structured around the power dynamics between white, cisgender, heterosexual men over everyone else. As Allan Johnson describes in his text, our patriarchy is a capitalist, white supremacist system that is “male-dominated, male-identified, and male-centered.” Meaning everything in our society is structured out of a power differential between men and everyone else. Our gender binary is so problematic not because gender is problematic, but because it is a binary structured to empower men. Our gender binary enforces this by teaching boys how to be more powerful than girls, by teaching girls how to subdue themselves and make themselves smaller because that’s what they are supposed to be. 

Not only does a patriarchy have this expectations for everybody, it also creates real world consequences for people who do gender wrong. This can be seen in the grooming practices women subject themselves to despite how troublesome and harmful the practices are can be. Sheila Jeffrey’s describes in “Making Up is Hard to Do” how women who don’t wear makeup look less “healthy,” “heterosexual” or “credible.” This means, women who don’t subject themselves to this one aspect of gendered expectation they literally have less access to intimacy and wealth. Intimacy because if a woman is heterosexual and does not mark herself as so, she could pass up the chance for a potential partner, which as a human, can be really painful. Furthermore, in our capitalistic society, it is so difficult as a woman to sustain oneself without a partner who also works. Especially if a woman wants to have a family. There’s even less access to wealth because a woman is viewed as less credible without makeup on. This affects their ability to get hired, and their perceived job performance. 

Girls learn from a young age that grooming oneself, beautifying one self, is not optional. This is one of the many ways we learn gender growing up, but here’s the thing. Girls learn about makeup in an unsuspecting way. So many women who do makeup now talk about how their first experience with makeup was sneaking into their mom’s or grandmother’s makeup and putting it on in secret. They talk about a woman figure in their life teaching their how to do makeup. They talk about it with nostalgia, and as if makeup is this beautiful way of bonding with other women that is really empowering. I’ve almost never heard about girls learning about makeup in a way that felt forceful, yet these same women will talk about how they need to put makeup on to go out in public, about how they look like a potato without it. 

This demonstrates how gender can be learned in such inconspicuous, innocent way, yet it’s never just gender. People don’t think about how problematic the way we are socialized in terms of gender is because if you look at it individually and closely, gender doesn’t seem problematic. Marilyn Frye describes this perfectly when she describes oppression as a birdcage. The way a girl becomes interested in makeup is a wire, and it seems like not a big deal. Maybe makeup can make a girl feel less adequate in her appearance, but she can simply get around that wire by using it as play and using it to bond with maybe her mom or aunt or whoever. Zoom out and look at the wires surrounding it you see that makeup is one of the many grooming practices that relates to the oppression of women as a whole. Makeup is wholly white supremacist. Many trends are about white washing and getting a face to conform to European beauty standards. It promotes thin culture where it’s about making your face look slenderer and cheekbones pop out more. It’s classist because women with more money have access to more makeup and higher quality products that allow them to look more “beautiful.” When one simply participates in makeup, they are trapping themselves in this birdcage that relates to all the aspects of the patriarchy. 

Gender feels like a choice, and it is in a way. Obviously, I chose to identify as non-binary. I chose my gender. The problem is, there has been a real pushback and consequence to my “choice.” I have been told by society that I have made the wrong choice. That I am behaving incorrectly for a “Natalie” in our society. I have had to reckon with the fact that I don’t have the same access to love as other people. That people don’t know how to view me as attractive because they only know the heterosexual script for attraction and I don’t fit that script. I’ve had to accept the fact that I will never have the same bond with my brothers ever again because they view my gender as a “mental illness.” I have to accept that everyday is a fight for me. 

I am trapped in a birdcage. I am resisting it, but I will always be bound by this birdcage. I have lost in society’s eye by being trans. The thing is, for someone who is not a heterosexual, cisgender, financially-privileged, white man, there is not winning for me. This inability to win no matter what shows you the truth, gender is not truly a choice. It is compulsory. 

The fact that gender is inescapable makes the concept of dismantling the patriarchy feel hopeless, but Allan Johnson gives space for hope in “Unravelling the Gender Knot.” He describes all the expectations and things that encompass gender as a knot, and that there are things we can do to unravel this not.  One that resonates with me was to “openly choose and model alternative paths.”

I mean, at the age of 6, I made the conscious decision to never wear dresses in public unless I was being forced. Not because I didn’t like them. I love them. As a 6-year-old, they were just another fun clothing item to me. Even at 6, I recognized that people treated me differently when I was in a dress. They told me not to run around, not to rough house. I was supposed to behave even more when I was in a dress. I saw adults coo at me and coddle me as if I was smaller and weaker in a dress, and I hated that. The last thing I wanted was to be treated like I was less capable than the other children around me just because I was wearing a dress. 

Dresses restricted me, but they taught me that I could take control over more body, over my gender expression, and people would treat me different. I didn’t know that’s what I was doing then, but I knew it made a difference when I chose not to wear dresses. The thing is, I still loved dresses, and I would wear them in my room by myself all the time. I let myself feel powerful in a clothing item I wasn’t supposed to feel powerful in at 6. When I wore dresses in secret, I did the things my mom told me I wasn’t supposed to do when wearing a dress. I would run around, jump around, sprawl out spreading my legs with no regard to how I was exposing my body because as a kid in private, I didn’t have to worry about being inappropriate. I could just have fun. At 6 years old, I was going down an alternative path and queering dresses. As Johnson said, “modeling new paths creates tension in a system, which moves towards resolution.”

I don’t think dresses will stop being associated with girlhood and pushed onto girls in my lifetime, but I know that my choice to not wear dresses at 6 was my part in tugging at that one part of the gender knot.

I continue to model alternative paths now. The thing is modeling alternative paths relates to another way that Johnson says that we can unravel this knot. I “choose to make people uncomfortable, starting with myself.” When a queer human wears a dress, and refuses to behave in a soft or small manner, they make people uncomfortable because what they are doing is technically wrong. So, in my life now, I choose to wear dresses. I choose to wear skirts. I choose to wear clothes that are associated with femininity, but I also choose to not allow them to dictate my behavior and posturing within them. 

My shaved head was also a conscious decision to not only take control over my body but to also queer the sight of people around me and make them uncomfortable. I am undeniably queer, clockable from a mile away, and I am forcing people around me to see that there are queer ways of gender expression, and the more we queer the world around us, the more strides we are making to resist the patriarchy. People cannot erase queer people if we “shove” it into their faces. If me shaving my head is to queer my body and deny the expectation of my feminine-coded body to have long hair, then me wearing dresses is reject and resist the idea that my androgyny is defined by claiming masculine traits. When I step out of the house knowing that I chose each item on my body out of an enjoyment for those items and as a way to express the infinity of my gender, I can describe the feeling as nothing less than gender euphoria. 

Along with my gender shifting how I related to myself and my choices, my gender has shifted the way I relate to people too. I mean, people really don’t understand how gender affects everything in our lives. I think people think gender just affects the few things they really noticed as gendered like clothing and colors, but that’s not true. We’ve gendered nearly everything in our society in a way, especially human behavior and traits. Which means, the gender assigned to us at birth teaches us to behave and interact with other people in different ways. 

When I rejected girlhood, and came out as non-binary, I realized, I had to analyze so many things I did and figure out, do I behave this way because I want to, or because that’s the way I was told I had to be. Even if something is the way I want to be, does it still reinforce and perpetuate the patriarchy? All these things have shifted because of my gender. 

When I talk to other people, it has shifted because of my awareness of gender. I am brash, I am loud, I am unapologetic. I don’t let my voice be covered up by men or cisgender people, and I refuse to ever let that happen. Despite that, I am kind, and I am sensitive. I don’t let my voice be covered up by men and cisgender people, but I don’t speak up over people with aggression and deny them a voice. I want to be considerate and caring, but I refuse to let gender and society dictate I can’t be all those things and powerful and assertive too. 

The fact of the matter though is despite these being the ways I resist the patriarchy, I often ask myself, why don’t more people do this? Why don’t more people imbue acts of resistance in their everyday actions and choices when this is what it takes to deconstruct the patriarchy? Going back to Patriarchy by Allan Johnson, Johnson describes this as following “path of least resistance.” People don’t go against the rigid structure of gender because it’s easier not to. It’s normal not to resist. People who resist and do gender wrong, there’s not many people who look like them, they feel isolated, different. That’s just a social consequence though. Beyond that it can be harder to be hired or your job performance is placed into question when you look or act different. That’s a powerful punishment in this capitalistic world. Despite this though, people are resisting now, and people who look like me, who look queer, they are only growing in number. My best friend, Julie, who has always subscribed to heteronormative gender expectations has recently chosen to cut all her hair of. This is something she’s always wanted to do but felt like she couldn’t because of fear of judgement. She has expanded her idea of gender and liberated her choices in clothing and behavior and appearance despite still identifying as a cisgender woman. She is learning from me, how to model alternative paths in her life. She is unraveling gender within in her own life. At the end of the day, of each day, that is what we can do and will do to empower ourselves in this gender mess around us. We can choose for ourselves to make our lives harder and resist gender, and in turn that serves as an example to others as to how to liberate themselves. 

Dismantling oppressive systems is not an overnight feat. It is not a feat I can envision happening, but that does not stop me from taking each small act I can in my life to resist. That does not stop me from helping my other friends feel empowered to resist. I may still be oppressed, but like I said in my midterm “oppression and privilege does not mean suffering or not suffering.” I am finding ways to alleviate my suffering in this world despite still being oppressed, and beyond that the alleviation of my suffering (which often time is related to the parts of my identity that signify my oppression) are part of endless small acts that everyone must take to alleviate oppression. I am certainly happy and not suffering currently because I am choosing to live my truth as a gender non-conforming persons, and that’s pretty awesome to be able to do in this patriarchy.

[alyssaaaa6566-blog]

Heteronormativity and Its Consequences

Members of the LGBTQA+ community are too often overlooked because of something we call heteronormativity. “‘Heteronormativity promotes the norm of not only heterosexual but also married, monogamous, wite, and upper middle class.’” (McNeill: 425) Our society tends to assume everyone is straight, and so we push that status onto others blindly all the time.

This concept is everywhere. It is when people say young boys are “such flirts” because at a very young age they are talking to girls, or when we call a boy a “ladies man,” or even in the classroom teaching sex education. Challenging heteronormativity doesn’t mean erasing or shaming heterosexuals, it just means recognizing the fact that different sexualities exist and are also normal.

The first step to combatting heteronormativity is doing it at home. Children should be taught from day one to do what they want to do because they want to do it, not because society says they should. Boys should be allowed to play dress up or use dolls. Girls should be allowed to use toy cars instead of wanting makeup. These things are trivial, but when all of these heteronormative practices add up, we end up with children who don’t feel comfortable in their own skin. It is important to show kids love no matter what they seem to prefer.

Schools feed into heteronormative thinking, too. In health class, they only really teach about heterosexuals and their reproduction. When teaching students about sex and prevention of STIs, it is usually geared toward a heterosexual audience. There isn’t really anything wrong with this. Heterosexuals need to learn about their bodies, but so do homosexuals. A lot of students who are not openly gay might be uncomfortable asking questions that a lot of other students need to hear the answer to, too. That is why homosexual sexual education should be embedded in our coursework.

LGBTQA+ people are underrepresented in media, and when they are represented, they tend to get backlash. "I love the gays, but goddamn I don't understand why you guys are, like, so in your face about being gay. Like, what's with all the parades and the rainbow flags and exclusive clubs and making out in public and glitter-glitter-glitter?!" one woman’s coworker said about gay couples in public.

Heteronormativity creates an environment where LGBTQA+ folks are overlooked in important ways. It creates an environment where gay people don’t feel comfortable being openly gay. We need to take several steps away from this, and understand that human beings we are leaving behind.

Sources:

https://www.tolerance.org/magazine/why-heteronormativity-is-harmful

https://www.elitedaily.com/dating/gay-people-in-your-face-sexuality/1559357

https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/19419899.2013.876444?tokenDomain=eprints&tokenAccess=cCWykDsX7dTH7MV28kss&forwardService=showFullText&doi=10.1080%2F19419899.2013.876444&doi=10.1080%2F19419899.2013.876444&journalCode=rpse20

[russellthornton]

Feminazi Alert: 50 Signs You’re a Radical Feminist & Don’t Know It

Feminism freed women and gave them options they never had before. A feminazi seeks to take away women’s freedom to be women.

Okay, I am going to say something that may offend a great number of women and possibly an entire political movement in one fell swoop. Whenever you combine the word “Nazi” with any other word, it is meant to be offensive though. So, remember, don’t shoot the messenger. A feminazi is not a feminist.

The difference is a feminist is someone who believes a woman should have the same rights and privileges as a man in society. That, I agree with.

A feminazi has a view of the world that I don’t agree with. She is angry and upset about almost all things gender, believes women and men are completely and utterly equal in all ways, and gives no allowance for the fact that men and women are created differently.

50 signs you might be a feminazi

Born out of the feminist movement, feminazis take it several steps too far, are uncomfortable to be around, and, well, sometimes make you question their idea of gender roles altogether. Not allowing anyone to have their own opinion, they constantly try to tell the women around them that if they don’t subscribe to their military-like view of gender annihilation, then they simply don’t get it.

If you have a tendency to become a little too incensed about freeing the nipple, growing armpit hair, or don’t like a guy opening the door for you, that is on you. Not all of us have to feel that way, however. So, for the rest of our sakes, maybe you can just take it down a notch?

#1 You think that a bra is “the man’s” way of keeping you chained down. Bras are way too confining for your girls. [Read: The alpha female: 15 alpha qualities you need to unleash it!]

#2 You think cooking dinner is offensive since it is traditionally “woman’s work.” It isn’t that you can’t, you just don’t want to be held down.

#3 You haven’t been touched by a razor. Legs and armpits are made with hair for a reason.

#4 You think that girls have no obligation to smell good. No one is going to tell you how you can smell.

#5 Curves are something that your clothes should hide, not accentuate. Clothes aren’t for showing off your assets, they are utilitarian.

#6 You think conditioner was an invention a man made to rip you off. Let your hair be frizzy, that is your prerogative as a woman.

#7 You won’t be in a skirt anytime sooner than the guy next door. Skirts are just breezy pants to make women suffer.

#8 Pink. To a feminazi, it is like nails on a chalkboard.

#9 You think flirting is a useless tool that demeans women. Flirting is a waste of your time. A guy should like you for what’s on your mind, not in your pants.

#10 When you have a baby shower you make it unisex, even if you know the sex. Let’s not be labeling genders.

#11 You hate Barbie. She couldn’t even be real if she wanted to.

#12 You think it is totally okay for boys to play with dolls, but you don’t want to. Dolls are too frilly and cliche. [Read: Girly stuff stereotypes: 15 typical things not all girls like]

#13 Purses make you mad, especially the kind that cost a lot. What a waste of baggage.

#14 You can go on for hours about how mad you are that dry cleaners charge more for women’s shirts than men’s *although I do find that one offensive*. Okay, I will give you that one.

#15 High heels were an invention created to hurt a woman’s back and to make her look cheapened in the workplace. Until you see your male colleagues sporting stilettos, it ain’t gonna happen for you.

#16 You get all giddy when a gender protest might happen. You are always ready with a sign.

#17 Right to life issues makes smoke come out your ears. You always feel like anti-abortion men are coming to take your rights away. Relax… please.

#18 The word slut just sends you into a tizzy. Sluts are just women enjoying sex too. [Read: Slutty girls: 12 positive lessons we can all learn from them]

#19 You can swear like a sailor, or be one, and no one is going to tell you, you can’t. Lady manners are oppressive.

#20 If a guy gets promoted before you, you scream gender pay inequality. It can’t possibly be that he is more qualified or has a better personality.

#21 You get upset when a guy pulls out your chair, opens your door, or orders your meal. Those are all signs of disrespect for your gender. I can take care of myself, dammit!

#22 You think different starting times at marathons or separating winning times according to gender is angering. We are all equal, stop treating us differently.

#23 You believe that a woman can do ANYTHING that a man can do. I can even have a baby without men thanks to science.

#24 Calling someone sweetheart is tantamount to sexual assault in your book. What did you say to me?

#25 You were going to vote for Hillary or any other female candidate just because they were female… period. Politicians should all be women to make peace not war… right?

#26 Makeup, hair dye, and perfume were all created by men to keep women down and objectified.

#27 You know what the objectification of women means. You won’t let anyone make you an object of desire!

#28 The thought of a stripper makes you so mad you can’t speak.

#29 Lace is a four-letter word. If men don’t wear it, why should you?

#30 To you blow jobs are just another way that men debase women. Enough said. [Read: Top 8 reason why she refuses to give a blow job]

#31 Porno is just a symptom of the abuse that men perpetrate on women in society. The internet drives you crazy!

#32 Modification to make things easier for women is disrespectful to the female gender. You can do the same all the way around.

#33 If there is something to be moved you’ll be damned if some guy is going to do it for you. Move over, I got it!

#34 Flowers were meant for funerals, not to make women swoon. A waste of money, you’d rather go to the movies.

#35 You think that someone who wants to stay home and raise children is giving up her dreams. As a feminazi, you think that women who stay home deprive themselves of a real life. [Read: Stay at home wives and all the reasons so many women envy her]

#36 You don’t believe that a kid needs a mom and a dad because gender makes no difference. Don’t be limiting anyone’s gender!

#37 You would rather have a dirty house than clean it, that isn’t a woman’s job.

#38 You think that all men want is sex and are all on the prowl no matter what they say. Guys only want one thing! [Read: What to look for in a guy: 20 things that matter beyond looks]

#39 Letting your hair air dry is the only way to go. No one is going to tell you how to prepare for your day.

#40 You can bench as much as any man and aren’t afraid to spend hours pumping iron.

#41 You think that past generations of women have been brainwashed into feeling feminine. Your mom was just too dumb to know she missed out on so many options.

#42 You believe gender identity is taught not inherent. To a feminazi, stereotypes and society determine gender, not genetics.

#43 Manicures and pedicures are ridiculous and a waste of money to you.

#44 You try to convince young girls that they shouldn’t settle for careers that you deem too “womanly” like teaching and nursing. You seek out girls to mentor, so they don’t fall prey to womanistic ideas.

#45 Gloria Stein is your hero and the only woman who “gets it.” The feminazi of all time is your role model.

#46 Your wardrobe looks no different from your best guy friend.

#47 Most girls just don’t get it and need you to explain to them how they are being taken advantage of. It is your personal job to let every woman know how much they are being oppressed.

#48 You think that gender-specific toys are the downfall of society and keep people chained in stereotypes.

#49 You want to play football, baseball, and hockey, forget the girlie sports, they belittle women. You can compete on a “man’s” field all day long. [Read: Dating feminine men: Is it a boom or bust?]

#50 There is no way that you are ever going to use your gender to get ahead, not for all the tea in China. Not even if it will get you to the top.

[Read: The opposite of feminist: A new generation of women?]

A feminazi works very hard to omit what women can and can’t do by trying not to equalize genders, but to erase them and take away the things that make women, women.

The post Feminazi Alert: 50 Signs You’re a Radical Feminist & Don’t Know It is the original content of LovePanky - Your Guide to Better Love and Relationships.