#and long eyelashes but that's really just a stylistic choice of mine

[nomiyakazehaya]

sad smol girlfriend with big yuri claws

[nyxi-styx]

Kiss and Make-up

Fandom: Sanders Sides Ship: M/M, Prinxiety, AKA: Virgil/Roman Words: 1323 Rating: E for everyone Warnings: None... maybe insecurity? Tags: fluff, makeup, cute boyfriends, Virgil is actually really good at makeup, established Prinxiety, nons*xual physical intimacy, Characters: Virgil Sanders, Roman Sanders, briefly: Thomas Sanders, briefly: Patton Sanders, briefly: Logan sanders A/N: I know this isn’t very long, but it’s just an idea that came to me after watching Thomas get made up in Sides-inspired makeup looks. I’m a glutton for Prinxiety. Please enjoy! :) Silently, Roman watched in the mirror from the doorway as his boyfriend carefully applied his dark eye shadow for the day. Just as he was finishing up, Virgil caught Roman’s eyes in the reflection. Roman smiled warmly, but Virgil blushed and immediately looked down, washing makeup fallout from his fingers in the sink. “Um… Virgil? Raindrop… storm cloud… moonlight of my life…” The prince slowly moved closer. Virgil rolled his eyes; a string of nicknames always meant Roman was looking to get his way. He took a breath and looked up at him, shaking excess water from his hands before drying them on a hand towel. “What do you want this time?” “Oh, nothing, it’s just…” Roman hesitated, licking his lips. “...will you… do… makeup for me?” Dumbfounded, Virgil stared at his boyfriend for a moment before blinking slowly. “You want me to do your makeup? Even though you’ve seen how I do mine?” “Well, yes. I… it’s… I don’t expect us to match. But I think you can do something wonderful.” Virgil studied Roman’s face for a moment, still in disbelief. He sighed and looked down at his one makeup brush and little pot of loose black eye shadow. “Okay,” he conceded. “But I need more to work with than this.” He waved his hand and the single brush and eye shadow disappeared. Instead, the sink was covered with a large selection of brushes and cosmetics. Roman gasped gleefully and even squealed with delight. Virgil rolled his eyes again but smiled in spite of himself, keeping it carefully hidden from his boyfriend. “Um…” He reached over and lowered the lid on the toilet. “Here. Sit.” Obediently, Roman sat, perching on top of the closed toilet and looking far more regal than anyone else ever would. His eyes wandered the goods on the sink and then back to Virgil, who was looking thoughtful. Another wave of the hand and Virgil had an elastic cloth headband. He slid it carefully over Roman’s head, slipping it down onto his forehead and then into place, pushing the prince’s soft hair back. Virgil gave him just the smallest hint of a smile as Roman looked up at him with shining, trusting eyes. It was exactly that kind of look that melted Virgil’s anxious heart and made him fall for the prince to begin with. “I have to touch your face a lot… obviously… so… just… promise you’ll be still,” Virgil instructed as he picked up a small bottle of face moisturizer. He warmed the small dollop of moisturizer, working it lightly between his hands before applying it to Roman’s face. Roman closed his eyes and let out a content sigh that caught Virgil off guard. He didn’t say anything and just moved on to applying primer once the moisturizer was properly worked in. With that dry, he started carefully applying foundation to the prince’s face. The color was a perfect match though it was a bit dark against Virgil’s own skin. “Is it done,” Roman asked, cracking one eye open curiously. Virgil laughed softly. “No. That’s just the beginning. Just… trust me. I won’t… y’know… ruin your face. I promise.” Though, now, he was nervous. What if Roman didn’t like it when it was done? What if this was a mistake? He stepped back and forced himself to breathe. “Of course I trust you, raindrop. I wouldn’t have asked you to do this if I didn’t. And even if it’s not marvellous, I like that we’re… spending this time together. It’s… affectionate. I like this moment. No matter what.” Virgil made a grumpy sound at the word ‘affectionate’, but Roman’s words did make him feel a little better. “Thanks,” he mumbled, looking over the rest of the tools at his disposal. He decided against highlighter. Roman sparkles enough on his own. Ugh. I might vomit. Instead, he carefully patted a thin base of white eye primer onto Logan’s lids. He picked up an eye shadow palette and a small brush, but immediately put them back down. He summoned a lightweight towel and wrapped it around Roman’s shoulders to protect his nice white clothes from powder fallout. It was thoughtful and it made Roman smile, but he quickly relaxed his face again so that his boyfriend could continue. With another grounding, calming breath, Virgil picked the makeup palette back up and set to work. He worked gently but precisely and Roman was perfectly patient throughout. With the eye shadow done, Virgil gently cupped Roman’s face as he carefully applied eyeliner. “Okay… Almost finished,” he assured the prince. “Open your eyes and… try not to blink.”

Roman’s eyes fluttered open and he looked at Virgil, all the love in the world shining through. “Don’t look at me like that,” Vigil murmured. He couldn’t stand it even though he felt the same. He believed didn’t deserve it. He licked his lips and delicately applied mascara to Roman’s perfect eyelashes. He held his breath to try and control his shaking hands. Roman didn’t mind. He was just pleased with all of the physical contact. “One last step. Just uh… part your lips for me?” Roman was surprisingly obedient and Virgil cupped his face with his free hand once again. They locked eyes and Virgil felt his heart somersault. He couldn’t help the compulsion he suddenly felt and he leaned in, pressing his lips to Roman’s. He felt the prince smile into the kiss and he pulled away slowly, fighting away the blush. “S-sorry.” He cleared his throat and moved on, applying color to Roman’s perfect lips. Finally, he stepped back, waving his hand so all of the cosmetics and brushes vanished once again. “Alright, Princey. It’s...uh… it’s done. If you hate it, I can get makeup remover and it’ll be like it never happened.” Enthusiastically, Roman leapt from his seat on the toilet to take in his appearance in the mirror. His eyes were shaded vibrant red, outer corners touched with black, and lined with sparkling gold. His lips were a powerful ruby red. He slowly raised his hands to his cheeks, turning his face this way and that to take it all in. “I… look…” Virgil steeled himself for negative feedback. “I… I’m sorry. Like I said, I--” “...wonderful! I look incredible,” Roman enthused, grinning so bright it may have blinded any mere mortal. The corner of Virgil’s mouth twitched upward, only to grow into a genuine smile when Roman kissed his cheek, leaving red lip marks behind. It wasn’t that he minded, but the others couldn’t see him that way, so he raised his hand and used his hoodie sleeve to start wiping it off.

Unfortunately for Virgil, they were both summoned at that moment, rising abruptly out of the mindscape. Thinking quickly, he pulled his hoodie up to help hide the smudged red kiss mark on his cheek.

“Woah! Oh my gosh! Roman,” Thomas exclaimed in surprise as soon he laid eyes on Roman. “Romaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn,” Patton squealed until he ran out of air and choked momentarily. He cleared his throat. “Goodness me, I’m so sorry. I got over excited again. But look at you!!” He gasped and cupped his own face between his hands. “You do look amazing, Roman,” Thomas complimented, smiling at his creative side. “Thank you, but unfortunately I can take no credit. Virgil was the artist this time.” The prince gestured grandly at the nearby side who looked away from everyone, embarrassed.

“Virgil, if you’re that talented with makeup, why is your own, ummm… so…�� Logan’s question trailed off as he struggled to find a word that wouldn’t sound insulting. Shrugging, Virgil looked up at Logan. “Stylistic choice. You all wouldn’t take me seriously if I wore makeup like that. And I wouldn’t make it look nearly as good as Prince Shiney over here.” He met Roman’s eyes once again and they shared a smile, hiding all of their little secrets behind it.

[yoon-kooks]

In the Dark

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Tiny Angst, Tiny Humor

Summary: As Bangtan’s stylist, you’re constantly bickering with the boy who likes to leave his shit behind in the dressing rooms. On a night when you’re forced to return his shirt, you accidentally get trapped inside his studio with him.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: even though it’s like 90% fluff, this is still how i realistically imagine yoongi minus a few things looooooool

“How about this shirt, Y/N?”

“Jimin, you can’t just keep wearing stripes for every single photoshoot…” you laugh, pulling the black and white striped sweater out of Jimin’s paws and hanging it back onto the rack with the rest of the clothes in his size. In exchange for stripes, you pull out a red flannel that would go perfectly with his black jeans for a casual boyfriend look.

At a second glance, however, the flannel is all wrinkly and reeks of cologne. Someone’s personal clothes somehow got mixed in with the photoshoot wardrobe. And you can only make an educated guess as to which inconsiderate boy would so carelessly leave his shit all over the place.

“Hey Jimin, can you return this to Yoongi when you get back to the dorms?” You bundle the flannel up and underhand it to the other boy.

“Can’t you do it yourself? Last time I checked, he was still locked up in his studio,” Jimin says as he unravels the shirt and drapes it right over your head. “Besides, he’s more likely to answer his door if it’s you, Y/N~” You hear his sinister giggle from within the shirt’s suffocating cologne that you may or may not have complimented Yoongi on one time. One time.

“On second thought, I think I’ll just let him perish alone in his studio. He doesn’t need his flannel that badly.” You rip the shirt off your head, enabling yourself to finally breathe in some fresh air. “It’s better not to bother that grouchy hermit of a producer anyway.”

“Fine, but I’m telling him I caught you sniffing his clothes~”

“Jimothy, no.”

“Jimothy, yes~” the devilish boy hums, swiftly snatching the flannel from your grasp. He skips only to the doorway before pausing to give you one last chance to change your mind. As much as you dread the thousand-year wait for Yoongi to get up off his ass and answer his studio door, you don’t really have a choice. Besides, you don’t completely hate the boy—you just wish he wouldn’t be so closed-off.

“… Okay, okay,” you groan in surrender. “We don’t need to give him the wrong idea…”

-

As you step out of the elevator and make your way down the corridor to the Genius Lab, you shake your head at the flannel. This isn’t the first time Min Yoongi has forgotten something in the dressing rooms—visiting his studio to return his clothes has become a norm for you. Is it an excuse for him to flirt with you? Perhaps.

For a solid minute, you find yourself standing outside of the high-security, passcode-protected, quadruple-alarmed Genius Lab while staring at the welcome mat with a white cat who gives you the finger and tells you to “go away”. You suppose this is Min Yoongi’s way of being extra, and it kind of pisses you off for some reason.

Knock, knock! You begin counting in your head… 1, 2, 3, 4…

No response, but you can certainly hear music playing from the speakers inside… 17, 18, 19, 20…

“Yoongi.”

…32, 33, 34, 35…

8:27PM Y/N “hey you. open the door >:(”

…59, 60, 61, 6-

Finally, after what feels like a millennium, Yoongi opens the door just barely enough for you to see him bat his eyelashes at you. He waits for your explanation as to why you’ve interrupted his music production, but quite frankly you’re not in the mood. You blink back at him as you hold his flannel up for him to see, but just out of arm’s reach. If he wants his shirt back, he’s going to have to open his fucking door like a decent human being and not just peek out like a cat waiting to pounce.

With an overexaggerated sigh and a tiny curve of his kitten lips, he swings the door open all the way but continues to guard the entrance, both hands pressed against the either side of the door frame—as if you’re about to run in there and steal his MIDI equipment that you have no fucking clue how to use, nor do you even give a shit about. But at least you’re finally able to see Min Yoongi in his entirety.

The stylist in you first takes note of his lowkey cute outfit: his usual ripped jeans and, get this, a t-shirt. A t-shirt. A wild Yoongi in a plain t-shirt is quite a rare sighting even to you, his stylist. And you assume you’re only able to witness it because you’re holding the article of clothing he would otherwise be wearing to cover himself up.

“If you’re done checking me out, can I have my flannel back now?” His voice is a tad raspy like he hasn’t spoken to anyone in days. And after accusing you of checking him out—which you totally were not—he has the audacity to hold his grabby hand out for the flannel. As if you’re going to hand over his shirt after that snide comment.

“Of course. That’s why I fucking walked my ass all the way across the BigHit building,” you sigh. “But I’ll only give it back to you after you tell me what took you so fucking long to answer the door.”

“I was in the middle of working.” He crosses his arms as you start to see the infamous Yoongi Pout™ creeping up on you. He may or may not be aware of your one true weakness.

“On what?” You tilt your head, challenging him further.

“New songs.”

“Can I hear?”

“It’s a secret for now.”

“Then I guess your flannel is mine for now~” you say as you slip your arms into the sleeves of his shirt. The only real downfall is that you once again become engulfed in his scent.

“Y/N, please. It might be summer, but it’s still cold in my studio from the AC. So I could really use that flannel, yeah?”

“If you were really cold, you would’ve answered the door quicker, or perhaps walked over to the wardrobe department for a spare jacket~”

“Y/N.” Not only does he speak your name in the most honeyed way possible, but The Yoongi Pout™ comes out in full force. And you aren’t ready for it.

“Fine…” you surrender, almost immediately, for the second time in one day. “But at least show me proof of your diligent work, so we can pretend like you weren’t just binging Kuroko for the fifteenth time, you weeb.

“I’m not a weeb… I’ve literally only watched Kuroko twelve times,” he shakes his head at your ignorance, but finally allows you to enter the oh-so sacred Genius Lab.

You’ve never been inside Yoongi’s studio, but you’ve always wondered how the boy could stay in such a tiny space for long periods of time without growing bored or mad. You’ve only heard myths from the gossip boys, Jimin and Taehyung, that there may or may not be a dragon hiding in there.

But to be completely honest, you’re underwhelmed as soon as you step foot into the dragonless room. After all the extra security measures Yoongi went through to keep his studio safe, you’d think there’s something special, even if not a dragon, that he’s protecting behind those walls. But nope. All you feel is the chilled air from the AC.

He sits you down into one of the seats and rolls you over to his computer, his workstation. There are a bunch of buttons and knobs in front you which he warns you not to touch, even though that only makes it all the more tempting. Before you get a chance to do so, however, his computer screen flashes on and nearly blinds you in the dimness of the room.

“Here’s your proof,” Yoongi points at the jumbled mess that appeared on his screen, as if you’re supposed to know what the fuck it all means. You see a timeline with color-coded layers of what you assume are sounds or beats or whatever else goes into producing music. But beyond that, you’re not sure how to interpret the track in front of you. You’re left in the dark.

“You act like I understand your complex alien language,” you scoff. And you don’t just mean it in regards to music production.

“What don’t you understand?” There’s a softness when he speaks in pout.

“You.”

“Me?” he frowns, either out of confusion or because you ignored his cute pout. “What do you mean?”

Everything. You don’t understand why he chooses to lock himself in a tiny room with no dragons. You don’t understand why there’s twenty thousand locks on his door. You don’t understand why his welcome mat flips you off. You don’t understand why it takes him fifty years to answer his door. You don’t understand how watching Kuroko only twelve times makes him any less of a weeb. You don’t understand The Yoongi Pout™. You don’t understand why his music has to be a secret. You don’t understand why he rarely wears t-shirts even though he looks really good in them. You don’t understand what he’s hiding. You don’t understand why he won’t let you in. You don’t understand Min Yoongi.

“What I mean is that I don’t understand how watching Kuro-” You’re cut off by an abrupt surge of darkness. The computer screen shuts down along with the flashy lights from all of the studio equipment. Even if Yoongi wasn’t wearing all black to blend in with the shadows, you still would not be able to see him in the chair next to you. The two of you are sitting in pitch-black darkness. What a perfect time for a power outage.

Yoongi sighs as pitter-patters move along his desk. You assume he’s feeling around his desk for something. Probably his phone.

You pull out your own phone from your pocket and use it as a mini flashlight to guide the boy. The beam of light reflects right off of Yoongi’s pale arms, blinding you in the process. But alas, Yoongi is able to secure his phone and begins texting away rather than thanking you for your service and sacrifice.

“Is the power out for the entire building?” You bounce out of the chair with curiosity and do your best to make it over to the door without tripping on something. When you reach the door and turn the knob, however, you realize Min Yoongi is actually an idiot. “We’re locked in here because of your high-tech security system, aren’t we.” You don’t really want to hear the answer that’ll seal your fate.

“We just have to wait for the power to come back on.” Yoongi’s voice is rather calm.

“What if the power doesn’t come back on until morning?”

“Then we’ll just have to sleep here.”

“What if I need to use the bathroom?”

“…”

“…”

“Umm... good question.”

“I hate you.” You turn the flashlight off to preserve your phone’s battery. Luckily, it’s dark enough so Yoongi can’t see you sulking at the door. You didn’t even want to walk over to his studio to return his flannel in the first place, and now you’re stuck inside? With him? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he were easier to get along with. But he’s not.

You hear the wheels of his chair roll out and footsteps that certainly aren’t walking in your direction. Instead, it sounds like his ass plops down onto a wooden surface.

“Any requests?” he asks.

“Requests for what?” The only request you have is to get out the fuck out. “Where are you?”

“Just follow my voice, Genius.” You suppose that’s alien talk for inviting you over.

With a sigh, you slide your feet in the direction of Yoongi’s voice (and cologne—today he smells like peach blossoms!). You know you’ve finally reached his location when your thighs smack the edge of something hard, causing you fall forward into another set of thighs. Yoongi snickers before elevating his thigh just a bit and tapping the wood beside him to prompt you to get the fuck off of him.

You awkwardly situate yourself onto the wooden surface, which you now realize is the piano bench. Hopefully you aren’t sitting too close in proximity to the boy.

“Any requests?” he repeats, only this time, you have context. He obviously can’t work at his computer or binge Kuroko during a power outage, so piano is the next best thing.

“Agust D.” You try to pick the most obscure song to be translated into piano. But of course, it backfires.

“I didn’t realize you were a fan of mine outside of Bangtan.” Somehow you know he’s got the biggest smirk on his face.

“I never said I was a fan!” It takes everything in you to not shove the boy off the bench. “It’s just that as Bangtan’s stylist, I feel like I should support all of members’ individual activities as well. And unfortunately, that also includes you.” You say this, but you’re glad that you gave his mixtape a listen. You feel like it’s one of the few personal things Yoongi has shared so openly with not only you, but also the entire world.

“Thanks? I guess?” he chuckles softly as you hear his finger pads take position on the piano keys in front you and him. If he actually manages to pull off a pure rap like Agust D on the piano, then perhaps Min Yoongi is truly a musical genius.

But rather than A to the G to the U to the STD, you hear a melody that sounds completely different. In fact, it doesn’t even sound like a song you’ve heard before. Either it’s an extremely tranquil and loose ballad rendition of Agust D, or it’s a new song that Yoongi’s been working on.

In the dark, where neither of you can watch his fingers flow across the keys, you pay your full attention to the pure sounds of each piano note. You wonder how many hours locked in the studio it took for him to achieve that fluidity in the way his fingers grace each key, how many hours it took to decide on what to center the song around, how many hours it took to compose a melody that’s both catchy and beautiful, and how many more hours it took for him to put it all together.

When resonance of the last piano chord fades out, you sit silently to take in what Yoongi had shown you—what had previously been hidden behind closed doors.

A sudden chill in the air reminds you of why you had come to his studio in the first place. As soon as you wiggle out of flannel, you realize Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said the studio was cold as fuck. To keep the current mood, it’d be awfully romantic to drape the flannel over the boy’s shoulders to bring warmth to his bare arms, but of course you don’t give a shit about that. Instead, you toss it over the first thing you find, Yoongi’s head. His little oof makes you cackle.

“I thought your new songs were supposed to be top secret,” you say with a little more seriousness.

“I thought you said you wanted to support all of the members’ individual activities—including mine.”

“Especially yours.” Hopefully your voice is too soft for him to hear. “But the way you close yourself off makes it difficult.”

“You mean how I’m always locked up in my studio?”

“That… and like 2534 other things,” you tease.

“That’s just how I am.” You can tell he’s pouting by the cute lilt in his voice.

“I know. I’m just glad that I got to witness a wild Min Yoongi in his dungeon. I like hearing your music.”

“And why’s that?” He wants to be praised.

“I feel like it’s the language you speak best. It’s your way of opening up.”

“Is that why you were adamant about being let into my studio?”

You nod, thankful for the darkness’s ability to mask your own feelings. Some things are better left hidden for now, you suppose. Especially since you aren’t even sure what your relationship is with him. Just then, the lights flicker back on. Whether or not Yoongi caught you mid-nod, you’re not sure.

All he does is take his flannel off to drape it over your shoulders. You scoff at the cheesy gesture, but you let it slide because you enjoy staring at his naked arms.

“You should visit my studio more often,” he nods, as if it’s such a privilege to be invited to the Genius Lab. “And I’ll try to open the door more quickly.”

“Thanks I guess. But maybe I should try leaving a piece of my clothing here so you’ll have to visit me down at the wardrobe department instead~”

“Y/N, are you suggesting that I purposely left my flannel in the dressing room just so you would come visit me?”

“No, but now that you mention it, you’re looking awfully sketchy~” you giggle at how the boy just exposed himself.

“ANYWAY. It’s good for artists to get a change of scenery when they work, so I guess I’ll drop by some time and we can grab coffee or whatever.”

“Good. We can tackle that tsundere attitude of yours next.” Getting Yoongi to open up is only the first step.

[rtf393q-latina]

Journal 5

This week I played Mystic Messenger, a Korean mobile visual novel game, released in 2016. I gather that a more literal translation of the Korean title might be “mysterious messenger,” which make sense because the premise of the game is that you download an app, which you don’t know much about, but which jumpstarts this narrative journey full of its own mysteries. Thus far, there have been no mystic elements to the story; photos the characters send have an urban contemporary feel, with recognizable markers of the everyday like public transit, ear buds, or ketchup bottles. Gameplay consists of selecting responses as you participate in the app’s chatrooms, get messages, emails, and phone calls from the characters in the game world, synchronized to your time zone, as if it were happening in real time. The most extensively used element is the chatroom, and a note on its aesthetic because it’s exceptional: in addition to drab bubble text, characters might send an animated emote, chibi image of themselves; they can briefly shake the screen with an angry face that blips in and out as an overlay of the chatroom; they also sometimes send their text in a bubble shaped expressively as a cat or a fluffy cloud, as if written on a cute stationary sticky note; finally, they will also send photos. In addition to the phone calls (recorded in Korean, but with English text to translate on screen), these emotive speech acts go a long way in both making the characters come to life and just in general making it fun and engaging to follow along. In the previous visual novel I played, clicking through text as it endlessly populated at the bottom of my screen in a uniform font would get tedious.

Interesting visualizations in the chatroom. (source)

The narrative and gameplay has three levels. The first, most openly marketed level, is the romantic simulation: there are 6 characters and you can play through to gain the love of one of them. The second level is that you and the 6 romanceable characters are part of an organization that is organizing a big charity party; to get a good ending, you must convince at least 10 guests, whose contact info you collect over time from the romanceable characters, to attend through choosing the right three replies to the potential guests’ emails. The third level is that you are slowly figuring out what happened: the person who had your organizing job before has died or at least disappeared under mysterious circumstances and the way you join the organization is also rather mysterious. So, on the third level, I assume you solve these mysteries. Before I realized the game would not save in the middle of the introductory segment, I ended up accidentally restarting the game 3 times. To keep from being bored, I really tested the different choice routes and got a bad ending right off the bat, thereby discovering that the person who adds me to the charity organization is a malicious-seeming hacker (and if I refuse to follow his instructions he threatens to end me or enslave me and the game ends—very dramatic—I expect more of this as this level of the story unfolds).

Main game screen, demonstrating the different mechanics. (source)

A word on the monetization. 3 romance routes are available from the get go; 2 you need to pay 80 hourglasses for; and for the last one you have to pay 300 hourglasses (there are also some additional dlc-s and one more romance route since the release, which all have an hourglass cost as far as I can tell, in the ~100 range). A guide I read claimed that by playing through each romance route in order, you win enough hourglasses to play the next tiers. This seems reasonable: you can pay money to play exactly the romance route you want right away, or you can invest your time to eventually get there. The other major application of the game’s hourglass currency is that you can pay 30 to unlock all of the chatrooms for one day; therefore, you are able to override the game’s scheduled gameplay and play them all at once or go back to ones you missed because you were not available to play when they opened up. Unlike the other visual novel I played, here money feels like a luxury rather than a necessity; I may be missing the 1am and 3am chatrooms, but I get a brief overview of the main points the characters discussed without me (I just miss sending replies and winning photos and their favor from giving the correct replies). Furthermore, every few hours I earn a randomized bonus and I’m slowly but steadily gaining hourglasses, making me feel like eventually I’ll be able to unlock things while still being free to play. Overall, the monetization feels less predatory as compared to the other visual novels I’ve played so far.

Main monetizated interactions. (source 1, source 2)

Initially, Mystic Messenger does not seem like the best game to discuss with this week’s readings. Rehak argues that “our extension through various media is predicated on the body as root metaphor” and “the body becomes an inescapable aspect of fantasized experience” (21). And in fact, the readings have to do with identifying with an on-screen body. In Mystic Messenger I do not have a game body because the game is in first person perspective. I can however pick a little picture to represent me in the app, much like in regular messenger and email apps. I will elaborate on this aspect in more depth.

The game offers 5 pictures to represent you, or you can upload your own. 4 of the pictures match visually in design with the romanceable characters, and the last is more stylistically exaggerated: an anthropomorphized unicorn with a giant head and enormous eyes. The other 4 only differ in hair color and hair style; 3 have luminescent pale skin and 1 has vaguely tan skin. Overall, I think these 4 pictures are conventionally attractive—light skin, young, thin. As Shaw notes, we can understand some of the creators’ intentions through analyzing the available images. Much like in Martey and Consalvo’s analysis of Second Life, light skin is normalized though these avatar choices. In picking these beautiful characters, players would be gravitating toward beauty like the Second Life players. The game does offer some counter choices, with the tanned character, the comical unicorn, and the choose your own options. I wonder if these singular alternatives only work to emphasize how they stray from the norm and highlight the normality of the 3 light skinned characters.

In order of the game, the first 4 avatars. (source)

To understand why people choose the avatars they do and whether they identify with them, Shaw argues we must use ethnographic methods, so I will try to breakdown my own choices and compare them to the relationships between players and avatars of Mystic Messenger found online. I was not concerned with the questions Martey and Consalvo tackle because I did not expect my choice in this single-player game to affect me functionally or socially. The unicorn suggested that the characters would not take the avatar as a representation of me, which set aside questions of social narrative and whether I would want to embrace or resist the group dynamics of the characters. These questions would not be influenced by my dress.

The unicorn avatar. (source)

I first lingered over the unicorn and considered the chose your option (until I remembered I blocked the app from accessing my photos and cameras; I tend to deny permissions unless I know how the app is explicitly using these things). The reason I moved away from more conventional characters I think has to do with my relationship to femininity. My preferred expression of female-ness tends toward the androgynous end of things and I mostly dislike overt markers of femininity, like pink, flowers, makeup, nail polish, jewelry, skirts, and long hair. Interestingly, I do not find the counter of these things any less feminine because I have a pretty firmly feminine self-conception, I just find things like big baggy pants and short hair have a much more interesting potential for femininity to explore for me personally. Given my relationship to femininity, I often find like Shaw notes that “texts meant to hail us as audience members can if fact distance us from them" (77). Mystic Messenger is in the otome genre of games targeted to women and the avatars reflect conventional femininity. This whole genre of games has initially alienated me because I do not get much from conventional femininity and I would have kept on not playing them were I not interested in why people like them for this class.

In the end I skipped over the unicorn because its long flowing hair and long eyelashes were too feminine for me. I briefly considered the darker skinned character with the shaggy hair because I felt her skin color and less polished hair style suited me better, but I felt reluctant to claim the darkest available skin color. In the end I landed on the blonde with short hair because her hair style looked like mine. Crucially, what I was so obsessed with was not that the character represents my body, but that the character represents my values related to femininity. The blonde was an imperfect choice for my goals, but I treated her from then on as just a picture because one needed to be there to represent me. I did not identify with her or imagine her as a character in the game; she might as well have been a bunny rabbit, in the words of Shaw’s test subjects. But, though the on-screen “body” did not matter to me, much like Shaw concludes about her subjects, the not mattering was a result of not having something that might matter. If there were a character design that I found genuinely cool, would I have identified with her and would it have improved the gameplay? I don’t think my avatar being a placeholder for me makes the game less enjoyable, and that much is supported in Shaw’s findings as well; nevertheless, finding a cool female character, something I feel passionate about because so many representations have been inadequate for me, would have been really special. 

Example of a player-uploaded image as an avatar. Could certainly be the actual player, but interestingly, looks like perhaps it is a Kpop star to me. Is this an idealized self? (source)

Screen grabs of Mystic Messenger online reveal that some people definitely put up a photo of themselves into the game. Ultimately I decided I do not like this because then you don’t match the aesthetic of the game and it doesn’t feel like you are a part of the game world. Although I could’ve put up an image that did represent all the things I wanted it to, it would’ve broken unity with the game for me.

I’ve also encountered fanart of the romanceable characters with a specific avatar from the initial 5 options, suggesting to me that some players do get attached to a specific image as a character and/or as a self-representation. I searched online if there was an “What your Mystic Messenger avatar says about you” article, and I did not find one, but I can see the choice being something that unites people in a common understanding/vision about the game. People like to choose identifiers, from clothing to objects and avatars. They like taking personality quizzes.

Fanart of Jumin, the game character, his cat Elizabeth III, and “Red MC” the avatar (source)

This brings me to back to a discussion of Rehak. Although he is interested in the difference between a camera-body and a game-body, he does elaborate on how the camera in both movies and games hails the viewer, giving them “a sense of literal presence, and a newly participatory role” (19). Although my physical presence in the game is very limited, the camera-like function of making the game like just another messenger app on my phone, fusing the game world with my real world through the phone interface, having the characters address me constantly, hails me as a participant in the game. Seeing them react to my responses is pleasurable and I can recognize myself as a bodily participant in the game. (They also constantly ask if I’ve eaten, or if I’m sleeping, showing concern for and calling into being my physical existence.) At the same time, the reflection is never perfect and never will be, especially for games like this where your response is a selection out of two or three options. But there’s something fun about that failure to match. The potential of my physical self existing differently is evoked. (There are some overlaps here with Munoz’s disidentification as discussed in the Shaw.) As Rehak describes it, “"players derive pleasure from avatarial instability. On the most basic level, avatars enable players to think through questions of agency and existence, exploring in fantasy form aspects of their own materiality" (21). More succinctly, my non-self in the game allows me to "toy with subjectivity, play with being" (21) in a way that is harder in real life. Moreover, going beyond the acknowledgment from Shaw that players can enjoy roleplaying their avatars rather than identifying with them, Rehak’s statement prompts me to consider the fun of the physical experience of my body as part of the game. Yes, there are many moments that remind me that the game is imaginary and allow me to play with my identity because I can be someone else in the game; however, there are also interesting, fleeting moments that hail me as a material being that are very interesting. For Rehak clearly these moments can happen both in the third person and in the first person. In the third person seeing your avatar die and recognizing it as an extension of the body may have an effect. It’s also interesting though, how the first person can play more directly with that visceral-ity. It’s something I want to explore more later.

As a final tidbit: reminding me of our discussion about the goose, people sure got a big kick out of imagining the unicorn as an animal character in the game world. Perhaps the real work that remains to be done on avatars and identification is what we do with animals (and furrys).

(Source 1 2 3)

[multiplefandomsmut]

Project Feminize [Part 3]

Tony x Reader / Steve x Reader

Word Count: 1954

Rating: M

Warnings: smut

Natasha wanders into my room with breakfast shortly after Tony woke me, and smiles, telling me that she will be here with me to help me prepare. The smell of the food alone is amazing, and makes my mouth water. I immediately dig in as she wanders around my room, adjusting things, and being the natural big sister that she is.

“So, what exactly is going to happen today?” I ask in between bites of food.

“Well, in about an hour, after you shower and eat, some professionals are going to come in to make sure you look your best.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What kind of professionals?”

“Well, Tony is having a dentist come in and do a cleaning and whitening, which is probably going to take a while. Then, a hair stylist and makeup artist are going to come in and do their thing.”

I nod slowly. “What time does the party start?”

“6:30.”

*********

The work the dentist does hurts, to say in the least, but I know the pain will be well worth it. The whitening makes my teeth sting, but Natasha stands beside me the entire time, talking to me, and distracting me from the pain.

“Everyone is wondering where you’ve disappeared to, and whenever they ask Tony or me something, all we do is end up smirking, so they know something’s up. But, I don’t think they have any idea of what’s really happening.”

I nod, unable to talk, but wanting to acknowledge her statement.

“Sharon is going to be at the party tonight,” she mentions, but wanting quickly to move into a different topic.

I make some noise and shake my head, telling her to go back to Sharon.

She nods. “Yes, she’s going to be at the party tonight. Her and Maria were talking, and when Maria mentioned the party, Sharon sort of invited herself in order to see Steve since he’s been sort of radio silent with her.” She pauses. “Want to know why he hasn’t been talking to her? He’s worried about what’s going on with you. He cares about you, even if he doesn’t exactly show it.”

After about twenty more minutes, the dentist tells me I’m good to go, and that I’m allowed to talk now. I wait for him to leave the room before turning to Natasha.

“I know Steve cares about me, but I always just assumed that it was in a friend sort of way.”

“Part of it, I think is. I mean, you two have always been good friends and you’ve always been close, and I know that’s part of the reason why it hurt you so much when you saw him with Sharon. On the other hand, I do think he has thought of you as more of a friend. You and his first love are a lot alike, so, you’re his type.”

I scoff. “Peggy Carter was much more beautiful than I will ever be.”

“Don’t say that. You are just as beautiful as she was.”

“I guess …”

I look away from her, and bite my lip.

She laughs. “I know you too well.” She turns my face back towards her. “Tonight will work, I promise.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

She shakes her head. “No, (Y/N), you’re not allowed to think like that.” She pauses. “If tonight doesn’t work, Steve is truly going to suffer the consequences.”

I laugh and nod as she squeezes my shoulders. She glances at the clock in my room and stands up straight before looking me in the eye.

“It’s almost three. Ready for hair and make-up?”

I nod, and as if on cue, I hear a soft knock on the door. Both ladies haul a suitcase behind them and I take a nervous breath. The ladies introduce themselves and begin talking while setting up their tools.

Luciana, my hair stylist, shows me the hair styles that Tony preapproved, to which I laugh. I select my favorite and she nods at my choice, telling me that it’s her favorite too. Jesse does the same thing with the styles of makeup, causing the four of us to laugh as she tells us what happened when she was talking to Tony. Apparently, Tony was being very specific about what tones of eyeshadow he thought would look best on me, and was, in other words, being the diva that he is.

Natasha watches with an increased interest as Luciana teases and curls my hair in several different ways. As I sit there, I listen to the two of them talk and smile inwardly as Natasha takes an interest in something not having to do with work.

Being in the final steps of preparation makes me incredibly nervous, but I push it aside and simply focus on transforming into someone I never thought I could be.

*********

The three of them refuse to let me look in the mirror until I am fully dressed in my gown, heels, and jewelry. Natasha approaches me with a dark green, full-length dress that shimmers in the light, and black heels to match. The dress cuts down in a deep-V, slightly revealing my breasts in the classiest way possible. I accompany the outfit with a sizeable emerald necklace, and emerald earrings, keeping it simple, but stylish at the same time.

Satisfied, they allow me to look in the mirror, and I’m glad they hid me from myself for so long. I look beautiful. I hardly recognize myself, but I love it. My hair is teased, making it look like I have much more than I actually do, and is curled in layers. My eyes are coated in an undistinguishable hue of blue or green, with a black eyeliner to make it stand out. The eyelash extensions feel weightless, and my now whitened smile glows with the addition of the light pink lipstick.

I smile as Natasha approaches me.

“Ready?”

I look at her, not even realizing that she had gotten ready as well, and nod. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.

“Tony’s planned a grand entrance, so let me go tell him you’re ready.”

I follow her down to the floor and hide down the hall as she goes and informs Tony. It’s not even thirty seconds later when I hear the music volume decrease, and his voice boom through sound system.

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen. I have prepared something very special for you tonight, and believe me, it wasn’t easy to pull off.”

I roll my eyes, but my heart beats in anticipation and excitement.

“I would like you to turn your attention to the large descending staircase to the north as I present to you, the new, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!”

I take slow, assuring steps forward and turn the corner where I see the large crowd staring, waiting for my entrance. Once I come fully into the light, I hear gasps, and see shocked expressions. I smile grows on my face as I make my way down, my heels clicking on the tile in the silence of the room. I walk straight for Tony, and see a smile across his face as well.

“Thank you, Tony,” I say as I hug him.

“Your welcome,” he grins back. “Now, I think it’s only fitting that I have the first dance.”

An upbeat tempo immediately sounds, and soon, Tony is spinning me across the dance floor.

A dance with Clint follows, and then a dance with Sam, and then a dance with Bucky, and then I am in need of a drink and a seat. The bartender sets a martini in front of me, and I take a sip of the liquid courage, breathing out at its taste.

“Hey there,” I hear from behind me.

I instantly recognize the voice and turn in my chair to see the center of my affections, Steve.

“Hi,” I reply with a smile, something that won’t seem to leave my face.

“Do you mind if I sit?” he asks, gesturing to the chair beside mine at the bar.

“Of course not.”

The bartender quickly gets Steve a drink and moves to the other end of the bar, besieging himself with fake work.

There are a few moments of silence before he meets my eyes and says, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Is it okay if I claim the next dance with you?”

“It is.”

You and Me by Lifehouse plays and Steve leads me to the dance floor. He places his hands on my waist and I wrap my arms around his shoulders. Tony winks at me as we slowly turn on the dance floor. Steve’s baby blue eyes burn into mine with a softness I’ve never before seen. His large hand splays out across my lower back, and I’m floating on cloud nine.

*********

He thrusts into me rhythmically, and I can’t help but moan out his name like a chant. His lips find my neck and feel his teeth graze the skin. I grip his biceps like a vice as I quiver and shake beneath him, my orgasm washing over me with incredible power, making me let out long moans.

We fall asleep in each other’s arms and I couldn’t be happier.

I wake up and sit up, looking in the mirror across the room, surprised to see my makeup still intact for the most part. My hair is messy, most definitely post-sex. I shiver with my back now exposed to the cold morning air. Steve moves beside me, stretching and smiling.

“Good morning, gorgeous.”

I smile. “Good morning to you too.”

“How did you sleep?”

“I slept really well actually.”

He sits up and kisses my cheek before leaning against his headboard and pulling me to him.

“You know, I made a mistake, not asking you out before this.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Well, look at you.”

I freeze. “Wait,” I say, siting up to look back at him, now holding the sheet up to my chest. “Are you saying you brought me back here because of the way I look?”

“No …”

“That’s what you just said.”

“(Y/N) … let’s not ruin a perfect morning.”

I shake my head. “Too late.” I reach down to the floor and grab my clothes and quickly dress myself. “You’re right, you did make a mistake about not asking me out before. But, you know what? I made an even bigger mistake by coming up here.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that maybe I fell for the wrong guy.”

I walk out and make my way to the elevator. I soon find myself at Tony’s door and knock. He answers, fully showered, fully dressed, and fully sober.

“I made a mistake.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern in his voice.

“I fell for the wrong guy.”

I drop my heels and listen as they fall to the floor beside me. Standing up on my toes, I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and pull him down to me, and press my lips to his.

We stand there for several moments before he pulls away and responds, “Thank God.”

He pulls me in for another kiss, and I stand there, realizing that the things I felt these past few days were something I shouldn’t have pushed away.

“Please tell me you’re not joking,” he almost pleads.

I laugh. “I’m not joking.”

He presses his forehead to mine, and I feel more loved than I ever have. He caresses my cheek with his thumb, and I suddenly don’t feel a need to rush to do anything. I just want to be held. I just want to be held by the only man willing to take a chance on me. Tony.

Previous Part

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[carriejack03]

Dinner Attraction, Trish/Jolyne, nsfw

[AO3][Commission Info]

Jolyne hated when Giorno invited her father and her to dine together in his mansion.

It wasn’t the house per se, Jolyne was amazed every time she visited that luxurious place and she loved how Giorno showered her with - very expensive - gifts, but she could feel the tension radiating from the people working there, like they were waiting for an attack.

Jolyne wasn’t stupid, she knew Giorno was involved with the mafia, it didn’t take a genius to understand that, but strangely it wasn’t that that made her uncomfortable.

It was her dad. Even if he tried to not show it, he was always tense when he was around Giorno and he looked at the other like he was a bomb ready to explode. Jotaro never told her why he did that, every time she asked the light in his eyes became dim and he looked like his mind was elsewhere.

Jolyne couldn’t stand that look, so she dropped the conversation every time. That didn’t mean she liked how her father and Giorno threw daggers at each other.

Jolyne sighed, straightening her lacy blue dress and looked at herself in the mirror once more to see if everything was perfect.

She had decided to go in blue for tonight, she had dyed her hair of a shining shade of blue and had let her locks free on her shoulders, but she hadn’t loosened her trademark buns at the top of her head. She couldn’t help it, she liked them too much.

Her turquoise eyes shone in a joyful light, she had traced them with deep lines of eyeliner and put on her lips a lipstick that matched her dress.

“Damn, my boobs look great in this.” Jolyne commented, groping her breasts with a satisfied smile. She was glad she had convinced her dad to buy it.

“Jolyne, are you ready?”

Jotaro’s voice came from behind her door and he seemed to be everything except excited for this dinner. A giggle escaped from her lips, her father sometimes behaved like a baby.

“Yes, dad, don’t be so excited.” Jolyne snickered, her heels clicking against the floor when she walked towards the door.

Jotaro looked at her mildly annoyed and seemed to be really uncomfortable in his tailored suit. Jolyne smiled pleased, nodding at his choice and was secretly glad that he hadn’t put on his horrendous hat. Seriously, sometimes she has the doubt he slept with that thing.

“Damn, dad are you trying to get laid? You look so handsome, I bet any men and women would get on their knees for you.” Jolyne laughed when Jotaro’s cheeks coloured in a cute shade of pink.

“Don’t-- Don’t say that, Jolyne.” Her father cleared his throat to regain some of his composure, even if the red on his face was still present. “You look beautiful too.”

Jolyne smiled, accepting the compliment her dad awkwardly gave her. After Pucci’s defeat, Jotaro tried to redeem himself for all the years he had been absent in her life and she was pleased to see he really was trying his best, even if the results weren't exactly perfect.

Jolyne’s fingers found Jotaro’s tied and tightened the loose knot around his neck.

“We can’t have let this tie ruin your outfit.”

She cleaned the nonexistent dust on Jotaro’s shoulders and patted his chest, smiling brightly at him.

“Perfect.” Then an idea bloomed in her head and her smile turned wicked.

“Hey, dad, can I put lipstick on you? You have such nice lips, it would be a shame not to.”

“Jolyne.”

“Come on, we’ll match!”

“Jolyne.”

---

“You look really dashing with that lipstick, Jotaro-san.”

“Shut your mouth, Giorno Giovanna.”

Jolyne giggled amused at her father’s discomfort. He was throwing daggers at Giorno with his intense (and murderous) stare. Giorno was right though, Jotaro looked amazing with that blue lipstick that matched hers.

Giorno’s lips curled into a smile. “I’m only stating the truth.”

Jotaro gritted his teeth together but didn't reply and stepped closer to Jolyne, who was ready to burst in laughter. She patted her father’s back in comfort, but the wide grin on her lips betrayed her good intentions.

“Not you too, Jolyne.” Jotaro pinched the bridge of his nose, already seemingly tired of that evening which had yet to start.

Jolyne shifted on her seat amused. It always fun picking on her father with Giorno’s help, she didn’t really feel bad about it and her father’s reactions were priceless.

She looked around the fancy room, the table was already set but the dinner had yet to start. It was then that she noticed the empty seat beside her and returned her stare to Giorno, who was dangerously close to receive a punch from her father.

“Giogio, are we waiting for someone?” Jolyne asked, titling her head to point at the chair on her right.

Giorno’s eyes lightened up and his smile softened. “Yes, she’s a dear friend of mine, I hope you won’t mind her presence.”

Jotaro’s “It’s not like we have a choice” didn’t pass unheard, if the snake that suddenly appeared around his neck was any indication.

Jolyne’s eyes perked curiously, wondering what type of friend Giorno had. It was rare for him to mention a woman, he was always surrounded by his men, be it Mista or Fugo who followed him wherever he went, but it was really rare to spot him with a female presence. Yes, there was Sheela E but it was obvious Giorno treated her like a little sister, so this “friend” came unexpected.

Her father was still fighting the snake around his neck when the door of the room opened and a slender yet powerful figure entered.

Jolyne’s mouth went dry at the sight of the woman that stepped inside the room.

She was beautiful, pink, short hair adorned her heart shaped face. Her long eyelashes fluttered open and a pair of blue eyes looked around the room curiously while she approached Giorno with an elegant walk. The slit on her dress let Jolyne see more of the woman’s thigh and she felt a familiar warm start to grow in the pit of her stomach.

She knew who she was, it was impossible not to.

Trish Una, one of the most famous italian singers of international fame, a fashion icon whose style made even the greatest stylist turn green in envy. Jolyne admired her for being a strong woman and she had always thought she was beautiful, but seeing her in person was something else entirely.

“Jolyne, Jotaro-san, I want you to meet a dear friend of mine, she’s Trish Una and these are my dear niece and my lovely nephew, Jolyne and Jotaro Kujo.” Giorno smiled brightly at Trish and kissed the back of her hand like a gentleman.

Trish’s eyes shifted on her and her father’s figures and the first thing she said was:

“They don’t seem to be siblings. And why is he fighting against a snake?”

If Jolyne wasn’t so occupied to melt under Trish’s beautiful voice, she would have burst out laughing at Trish’s sentence.

Giorno chuckled and snapped his fingers, returning Jotaro’s tie to its original form. “It’s because they aren’t siblings, they are father and daughter.” No one mentioned how Giorno brushed Trish’s question off.

“Really?! Damn, you, sir, look really young, one day you’ll have to share your secret with me.” Trish smiled cockly and offered her hand to Jotaro. Her father looked at the palm slightly annoyed while readjusting his tie rather sloppily, but soon decided to squeeze Trish’s hand. It was nearly comic how Jotaro’s large fingers wrapped around Trish’s slender ones.

The handshake lasted for just a second before the woman’s eyes found Jolyne. Trish’s eyebrows shot up and she quickly approached her, stopping herself at an inch from Jolyne.

Jolyne stood up immediately, nearly knocking over the glass in front of her, and a small blush spread on her cheeks at how Trish’s eyes roamed on her figure, like she was trying to understand something about Jolyne.

Finally, a wide smile grin appeared on Trish’s face and the woman grabbed Jolyne’s hands in hers, squeezing them friendly and stepped in Jolyne’s personal space, their noses nearly touching.

“Finally a new face here! I’m tired to see men! It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Trish Una, I hope we’ll get along, your dress is really beautiful, blue really suits you!” Jolyne tried really hard to not stare at Trish’s hypnotic red lips, but it was getting more and more difficult the more Trish talked.

Jolyne snapped out her thoughts when Giorno cleared his throat. “Now, shall we start dinner? I’m sure you’re all hungry.”

Jolyne didn’t miss how Trish pouted at Giorno, but she let go of her hands soon enough and sat on Jolyne’s right, continuing to smile at her.

Jolyne shyly replied to the smile, but in reality she just wanted to punch herself in the face. Why couldn’t she say anything to Trish? She felt so stupid…

Jolyne took the fork and the knife in her hands and the waiter posed a plate in front of her. It smelled heavenly and it looked so tasty, but she knew it would only fuel the fire in her stomach.

The waiter explained the dish and told her its name, but Jolyne didn’t really care about it, not when Trish was lowly moaning beside her, saying how good the meat was.

Jolyne’s head swiftly returned to her plate and rubbed her thighs together, forcing herself to not think about Trish’s sweet voice.

Even so, Trish’s warm touch still lingered on her hands.

---

They continued to dine and had small talk, Giorno even managed to get Jotaro talk about uncle Josuke, but Jolyne continued to distract herself thanks to Trish’s presence. She couldn’t help it, the woman was really hot and she looked stunningly in person.

Plus Trish, even if Jolyne had been shy at the beginning, had started to talk to her about easy topic, like dresses and make-up and slowly Jolyne relaxed herself in Trish’s presence. Trish was cool and smart and seemed to put her heart in everything she did. Jolyne was a bit envious of this.

But no matter how much she willed herself to not do it, her eyes more than once lingered on Trish’s wide neckline. The skin looked so smooth and the dress accentuated her beautiful figure, Jolyne couldn't tear her eyes away from her.

Jolyne turned her head towards Giorno, who was explaining to her what was the most delicious pizza in Neapolis. She smiled, even if she wasn’t really following his words and rubbed her thighs together.

Jolyne nearly jumped when she felt fingers caressing her clothed leg. She quickly glanced towards Trish, who looked relaxed and composed, her eyes following Giorno’s words.

Jolyne wanted to ask what was she doing when Trish’s stare turned towards her and winked at Jolyne, a sly grin forming on her perfect lips.

Jolyne felt the knots in her stomach tightening painfully, it was like fire was burning her insides. She could easily slap the hand or shift her leg, but she didn’t want to, she wanted to know how far Trish would go.

Jolyne opened her legs enough for Trish to slid her hand on all her thigh, to let her know that she wanted to play too.

Trish giggled beside her, but the hand on her didn’t stop moving. Jolyne bit her lip and turned her head to look at Giorno and her father, who had started to fight about something stupid again. A blush covered her cheeks and she couldn’t follow neither Giorno or Jotaro’s words, hell, she couldn’t even understand her own thoughts.

Her breath hitched when Trish’s fingers pulled up the skirt of her dress until it was half way on her thigh. Jolyne’s moan nearly escaped her lips when she felt Trish’s warm palm entering in contact with her hot skin. Her hand felt so good on her, so delicate and elegant without an imperfection. And this perfect hand was touching her so teasingly and so good that she couldn’t believe it, it was too overwhelming.

Jolyne took the glass full of water in front of her with trembling fingers. No matter how excited she was, she couldn’t show Giorno - or worse, her father - what was happening to her. It would have been too embarrassing if they were found out.

Jolyne managed to only take a sip of the water when Trish decided that that was the right time to hook two of her fingers under Jolyne’s dress and pressed the knuckles against her clit.

“Ah--” Jolyne spat out the water and, if it wasn’t for Star Platinum’s reflexes, it would have all landed on Jotaro’s tailored suit instead of a stolen cloth from one of Giorno’s windows.

Her father furrowed his eyebrows and Star faded away - not before giving Giorno an apologetic expression.

“Jolyne, are you alright?”

Jolyne forced out a laugh, screaming internally and wanted to run away from there as fast as she could, but only a blush was present on her face. “Yeah, dad… I just choked on the water… ah ah… that’s embarrassing.”

Jotaro’s brow deepened, but didn’t say anything else and turned his stare towards Trish, who was fakingly looking at Jolyne with a concerned expression, even if the small smirked that played on her lips for an instant betrayed her.

Jolyne bit her lip when the knuckles against her clit started to rub it slowly, making Jolyne curl her toes under the table. It felt so good, but the stimulation wasn’t enough for her even if she knew very well that if Trish started to touch her more she would make them get caught.

“Are you sure?” Jolyne swiftly turned her head towards Trish, whose fake smile nearly made her want to punch her in the face. If this was how she wanted to play then alright, she would play too.

Jolyne smiled at the woman beside her, while one of her fingers swirled until it was only a string. She stretched it enough to reach Trish’s slit and used it to go under her dress and tease Trish’s hard nipple.

The woman’s smile dropped, but she soon realized what was happening and as a punishment pressed her fingers more against Jolyne’s clit. Jolyne choked a sob but continued to glare at Trish, who was wearing a triumphant smile on her face.

Another one of her fingers turned in a string, this time it went under Trish’s panties and circled around her clit, teasing it with light touches. Trish seemed relaxed but Jolyne could see sweat starting to form on her forehead and she had clenched her other hand in a fist until the knuckles turned white.

“I’m totally fine, thank you for your concern.” Her strings pulled at the same time and Jolyne smiled when she felt a gush of wetness hit her string. Trish coughed, trying to hide the moan that escaped her lips.

Jolyne felt the fingers pressing against her leaving her for a moment before they suddenly sneaked into her panties to rub directly her hardening clit. Jolyne didn’t know what mysterious force allowed her to not scream here and there, but she reached her breaking point when those wonderful, hot fingers touched her.

Jolyne retreated her Stand and stood up, nearly knocking the poor table over and ignored how disappointing it felt when Trish’s fingers slid out her panties. She didn’t dare to lift her head, too flustered and too scared of being caught, but she managed to steady her voice enough to speak without wavering.

“I need to go to the bathroom, excuse me.”

Jolyne didn’t wait for Giorno or her father’s words, she sprinted towards the door and opened it as fast as her trembling fingers could do.

Jolyne lifted her eyes for just a second to see Giorno’s smirk, but it quickly disappeared from her vision when the door closed behind her with a loud noise that echoed in the empty hallway.

Jolyne touched her chest and took deep breaths, willing her body to stop shaking. Her heart was pounding so loud in her chest and she could feel her sticky juice ran down her thighs.

She wanted to get off so bad, Trish’s strong touch still lingered on her skin and she wanted to do it before she forgot how good Trish’s fingers felt against her clit.

Jolyne started walking in the hallway, she didn’t know where she wanted to go but it wouldn’t be a good idea to get off just outside the dining room.

She didn’t go far before the sudden urge came again, her panties were soaked in her juice and the heat in her stomach was burning her alive. Jolyne couldn’t wait anymore, she had to it now.

She pressed herself against the wall and rolled her dress up enough for her to reach under it. Her fingers stopped when they touched the heated skin and Jolyne turned her head right and left to reassure herself that no one was coming, before pressing her fingers against her pussy. Gosh, her panties were so wet, she could feel how much she was dripping out and it was all Trish’s fault.

Jolyne moaned when she rubbed her clit in small circles, just like Trish had done to her some minutes before. But it was not enough, she needed to feel more, lust was clouding her mind and she sook the woman’s touch on her again.

Jolyne’s fingers caught the hem of her panties between them and she slid them down until they were halfway her trembling thighs.

Jolyne groaned, finally being able to touch herself like she wanted and pressed two of her fingers inside her. It burnt, but it also felt so good. A tear ran down her cheek, overwhelmed thought that she wanted them to go deeper.

“Started without me?”

Jolyne would have screamed if a sweet voice hadn’t started to calm her down and relaxed enough to turn her head to see Trish standing beside her with a big grin on her face.

She suddenly felt too exposed and tried to slid her fingers out of her, but Trish’s hand quickly covered hers and forced her digits to remain inside of her.

“Ah-- mmhhh…” Jolyne moaned, feeling another gush of juice wet her fingers and travel down he knuckles.

Trish chuckled and pressed a kiss on her neck, smuggling her red lipstick on Jolyne’s heated skin.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous…” Trish whispered in her ear, licking the shell with the tip of her tongue. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since I saw you with this beautiful dress… do you know how sexy you look?”

Jolyne shuddered and her fingers slid deeper inside of her. Tears spilled down her eyes and Trish happily lapped them, continuing to whisper sweet nothings to her.

“Trish…” Jolyne sobbed and it was getting difficult for her to stood up with her trembling legs. “Please-”

Trish shushed at her and pressed a quick kiss on the corner of her lips. “You’re so wet… are you going to come soon? Alright, I’ll forgive you this time…”

Jolyne didn’t actually understand Trish’s words, she just wanted to come, her insides were burning for how much she wished to reach her peak.

Trish grabbed her wrist and helped Jolyne to fuck herself on her own fingers, not caring about the juice that was dripping down on the floor and soaking her dress.

“Now you’ll only think of me when you’ll do this… damn, you’re so erotic.” Trish moaned and locked their lips together, dragging Jolyne in a messy, sloppy kiss all teeth and tongue.

Jolyne’s groans grew louder and she was almost-- almost there--

“Oh my god.”

The spell broke in less than a second.

Both Jolyne and Trish snapped out their daze and turned their heads towards the voice, which seemed to be in a total state of shock mixed with surprise.

“Mista.”

Jolyne had never heard Trish using such a venomous tone, but right now she didn’t care, not when Guido fucking Mista was a few steps from them with his mouth hanging open and his gun lowered.

He seemed to realize in what position he was in and started to ramble about nothing, which made Jolyne bury her head in Trish’s shoulder in embarrassment.

“Oh- I mean, I had thought someone was being killed -- I mean, I’m sorry, maybe I should go, but you know-- you can’t d-do this here… I mean- not that I’m against lesbains, I like them very much-- but if you could avoid doing it in public-- Oh my god, I’m making this worse aren’t I? I’m sorry, Trish, truly I’m-” “Mista get the fuck out!”

Jolyne had never saw someone running so fast before Mista did that evening.

Trish turned towards Jolyne, who still had her fingers deep inside her and sighed, grabbing her wrist and helping Jolyne to slid them out. She quickly redressed Jolyne, but the other girl couldn’t say anything, she felt too humiliated and wanted to cry.

“Sorry for Mista, he’s an idiot.” Trish tried to lighten the mood, but Jolyne’s expression didn’t change and hid her flushed face between her hands.

“Fuck… My dad and Giogio will find out… this is horrible.” Jolyne felt Trish press a kiss on her shoulder and peaked at what was she doing.

“Don’t worry, Mista won’t say anything if he cares for his life. And Giorno already knows, it’s impossible to hide something from him.” Trish took one of Jolyne’s hands in her and kissed her knuckles.

“I still want you, you know? If you’re up to it, we can sneak out and go somewhere…”

Trish pressed her body closer to Jolyne’s and for a moment the girl stopped thinking. Trish’s perfect lipstick was now a mix between red and blue, all smudged up but somehow still looking good on her. It was so sexy.

Jolyne crashed her lips together, wrapping her arms around Trish’s tiny waist. She bit the woman’s lip and shuddered when she heard Trish’s moan. Oh man, she could feel the heat growing again.

Jolyne pulled back and grinned, sneaking her hand on one of Trish’s breasts, groping it to feel the soft skin under her fingertips and enjoyed the groan that left the other’s lips.

“You bet I’m up for it.”

[beauticate]

Lana Wilkinson, Stylist

Talking with Lana Wilkinson in her light-filled and colourful Melbourne home, you would never know that this completely charming and down to earth girl's girl is one of the country's best known celebrity stylists. Well, that is if you paid zero attention to her up-to-the-minute choice of footwear and the sharp architectural shoulder of her outfit. A die hard lover of fashion, Lana knows it goes hand in hand with all things beauty and took us through her best tips gleaned from years on set (including the makeup tool she guarantees gives flawless looking skin). Prepare to be jealous of her two little girls, who are not only growing up with a mother who is a seriously smart business person, but one who will be passing on a fashion treasure trove.

"When it comes to beauty, I always strive for flawless skin and create the rest of my look from there, so that all together it feels natural and simple.

A Beautyblender is the perfect tool to create flawless makeup. Keeping my skin hydrated is also key, so I use Ole Henriksen's products, specifically the Truth Serum, Banana Bright Eye Creme and a rich moisturiser, C-Rush Brightening Gel Creme, morning and night. Another must-have are my ongoing facials at Melanie Grant, that always leave my skin feeling clean, refreshed and glowing. 

I constantly say to my clients that you can have an amazing outfit, but if the hair and makeup aren’t right, you haven’t got a complete look.

People can always tell when you try too hard, so I think women look the most beautiful when they let their natural beauty shine through. That being said, my number one beauty essential is a Spray Aus spray tan. 

I have my morning routine pretty much down pat. 

I cleanse with Go-To Properly Clean, then I’ll use a toner and Go-To moisturiser before makeup. By Terry Lumi Serum is such a great base to apply before foundation - it gives the skin just the right amount of glow and acts as a natural colour correcting serum.

For my base, I try to use a product with SPF in it to avoid damage from the sun. I tend to switch between IT Cosmetics Your Skin But Better CC Cream SPF50+ and Natasha Denona Face Glow Foundation, which has an SPF 15. Next, I use my NARS Sheer Glow Foundation and liquid blush to give me a glowy complexion. The Kevyn Aucoin The Volume Mascara is a must-have as I love a big lash.

It’s fun to get a little more dramatic with my makeup for a night out.

I use the same NARS foundation and build it up to get good coverage. I like this one as it gives me a soft matte finish, which pairs well with a smokey eye and smudged eyeliner. Tarte's eyeshadow palettes are great and Sephora’s gel eyeliners are so easy to use. Ardell's individual lashes are always a favourite of mine and then I go in with Becca’s Shimmering Skin Perfector Luminous Blush, which is the bomb for your cheeks. I ensure my eyebrows are thick and filled in as they emphasise my eyes, and Amy Jean’s new eyebrow pencil is fab for this.

I have a couple of favourite makeup tricks that are easy to do but really work.

If you have straight eyelashes like I do, my first tip is to apply mascara before curling with an eyelash curler. I find applying product before curling maintains the curl all day. I also like to elongate my eyes, so I tend to apply bronzer or a bronze shadow to the outer corners of my eyes and blend it outwards. 

Because I colour my hair so frequently, I know I need to take care of it. 

To offset the damage of using hot tools, I like to use ELEVEN Miracle Hair Treatment and their Hydrate My Hair shampoo and conditioner. On days at home, I like to air dry my hair and keep the heat off it.

I would describe my personal style as classic monochrome with injections of colour.

I like to mix it up and play with trends, but my style is fundamentally classic. I make sure I invest in timeless essentials that can be worn after trends fade. My favourite Australian designers are Toni Maticevski, Dion Lee, Acler and Ellery, plus international brands such as Christian Dior and Chanel. These designers have a timeless element, but also evolve and keep their pieces fresh and stylish. I’m all about strong details and hero pieces. I just bought the Balenciaga Knife Pumps, which add a fun edge to any outfit.

I started my career pre-social media, so I never really knew it was something I could pursue. 

I’ve always had a love of fashion and took pride in curating my own outfits, but it was only through my job in fashion marketing at Westfield that I saw potential for a styling career. I worked for many years as a Project Marketing Manager and then would work tirelessly after hours and on weekends styling, to build my portfolio. I knew I was passionate about styling and that really grew over time.

Seeing the value that my job brings to small businesses and those just starting out gives me the passion to work as hard as I do.

Driving sales for brands and helping them to achieve their goals is so fulfilling. Another great part of my job is helping women to look and feel their best. I love when I know that a client feels amazing – it’s such a great process to be a part of.

I think I’m better than I used to be at saying no when I’m exhausted. Previously I’d have a hard time with this, but as the years go on saying no is my own form of self care.

I’ve just started reformer Pilates at Elite Training Sports and Medicine. As a working mum, having a strong core is imperative and I try and do this twice a week at about 5.30am with Stephanie Dion so I don’t impact my family. This way I’ve also done something for myself before I even start my day. For so long I’ve struggled with weakness in the abs after two pregnancies, but I’m finally starting to feel stronger and have much less backpain.

I think it’s important to not be too hard on yourself about what you eat.

I do try to be as healthy as possible, but I have a huge sweet tooth and when I really want chocolate, I think it's best just to have it and really enjoy it. I love to use the Vital Greens Daily Supplement. It gives me a boost of essential vitamins and I’ve noticed that since taking it, I rarely get sick. They also have a protein powder which I use in my morning smoothie if I need to have breakfast on the go. It’s harder for me to stick to a daily routine because everyday is so different for me, but morning coffee seems to be my one lasting ritual. I also take a daily marine collagen supplement called Proplenish that is an essential part of my beauty routine. It helps with anti-ageing from the inside out, and I always notice the difference when I’m using it. Plus, it’s a great sneaky way to increase my water consumption.

I really wish I had more time to relax, but to be honest my schedule is a bit crazy at the moment. 

I have two young girls, so when I’m not working I love to spend time with them. That is when I’m at my most relaxed - other than during my alone time with my morning cup of coffee, which tends to be my own kind of meditation before the day begins. I always like to sit and get some work done by myself nice and early, because once the kids wake up the madness begins!"

Story by Zoe Briggs. Photography by Neiyo.

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[eedwritingportfolio-blog]

Personal Choice 1

Play

Shakespeare’s Encore

ACT I

SCENE I

The six characters sit in separate, plastic chairs. The room resembles a doctor’s office waiting room. Inexpensive, tacky paintings are placed haphazardly on the peeling walls. ROMEO and JULIET sit close together, whispering lovingly and exchanging kisses. HAMLET sits with his head in his hands between his knees. REGAN sits cross-legged, a compact mirror in her hand as she dabs at her makeup. DESDEMONA sits quietly, staring anxiously at the hideous paintings, avoiding all eye contact. KING LEAR is asleep. A receptionist sits at a desk nearby, typing on her computer. There is no change in their actions for a minute. Then, a bell rings and POLONIUS appears from the back door.

POLONIUS: I really think you should reconsider, my good sir, I promise I can-

RECEPTIONIST: You know the rules. Leave.

POLONIUS: I just think if he would reconsider- I mean- I know I’m good for the part. I could easily-

RECEPTIONIST: Enough.

Polonious stops, his mouth open. He rolls his eyes and turns towards the audience, grumbling. Words like “sell-out” and “he probably doesn’t even write his own plays” can be heard between mumbles. Regan stands up, her mirror back in her purse.

REGAN: How did it go? Did you get the part?

POLONIUS: No, I did not get the part. APPARENTLY I’m not ‘worthy’ of the part.

REGAN: (smirks) Figures.

POLONIUS: What is that supposed to mean?

REGAN: He must be waiting for me. Obviously no one is as deserving as I am.

JULIET: (starts laughing) Yeah, okay.

REGAN: What did you say, Suicide-Girl?

ROMEO: Don’t speak to her that way!

REGAN: Oh my apologies to the happy couple. Unlike you two lovesick puppy dogs, my life was worth something. And I died always staying true to that.

JULIET: Oh yes, because staying true to the love of your life and your love for money is soooooo the same thing.

REGAN: Not for money, Psycho Sister. For power. There’s a difference.

JULIET: Enlighten me.

REGAN: When my father, that lazy sack of potatoes over there, came to my two sisters and I with the promise of money, I was quick to tell him what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t my fault that it came with strings attached. Next thing I know, my sister is trying to steal MY man. And yeah, along the way I may have gouged an eye out or two, but Edmund was mine and Gonoril needed to know it. So I died trying to gain complete control over all that my sister tried to take from me.

JULIET: You died for greed; we died for love.

REGAN: You call that love?

JULIET: Our families didn’t want us to be together. I was betrothed to a man I did not love and I knew that I would lose the love of my life if I didn’t act on it quickly. I devised a plan so we could escape and live together without our families’ knowledge; however, due to-er-miscommunication, Romeo was misled to his death. It was an act of passion, really. And so I stabbed myself. All for him. (Smiles up at him and flutters her eyelashes flirtatiously).

ROMEO: And I would do it all over again for you. (They kiss).

REGAN: Ugh, please. I’m sure Anxiety-Girl over there has a better story than that.

DESDEMONA: Who, me?

REGAN: What are you? An owl?

DESDEMONA: No I-I died for…for nothing. She looks at the ground, a frown appearing on her face.

HAMLET: I’m-I’m sure that’s not true.  He moves to a seat closer to her. You seem like a gr-gr-great person.

DESDEMONA: Thank you. It was awful, really. I guess you could say I died for love. Or really, love killed me.

HAMLET: How so?

DESDEMONA: I was in love with a man.

HAMLET: Did he not love you?

DESDEMONA: He did. I mean he did at first, then one day he just accused me of being something I most certainly was not. I was always faithful to him.

HAMLET: Why didn’t you tell him?

DESDEMONA: I tried to but I just never knew what to say so in the end I just let it happen.

HAMLET: Let what happen?

DESDEMONA: I let him kill me.

HAMLET: I-I’m so sorry. That sounds awful.

DESDEMONA: Thank you. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to you?

HAMLET: One night a phantom came to me. It was my father. He told me of my destiny; I had to kill my uncle for revenge so that his spirit could finally rest. It seemed so simple to me; however, I found I was so lost in the planning, in the decision making, that when I finally seized the moment; it was the wrong man.

DESDEMONA: What did you do?

HAMLET: I took so long thinking about what to do and not doing it that I ended up giving my enemies just enough time to figure out my plan and concoct one to kill me as well. I was murdered by my uncle and his pawn.

DESDEMONA: Oh!

REGAN: Alright, enough with the pity party. If this heart-to-heart has told me anything, it’s that you losers have a LOT to learn. And definitely will not get the part in this new play.

They all begin to yell at once. Words like “love”, “I’m the star”, and “die” are heard. KING LEAR begins to stir, then awakens with a start. He looks at the screaming characters in horror. Then clears his throat.

KING LEAR: Enough! What is this foolishness? The characters fall silent. REGAN rolls her eyes.

REGAN: Oh, great, now we’re waking up the dead.

KING LEAR: Very funny, daughter. Now what was this ruckus all about?

REGAN: We’re trading death stories, Daddy-o. Wanna turn?

KING LEAR: Ah, well in that case, you’re all in for a treat. All my life, I believed that I Had raised three beautiful, devoted daughters. So when two of them were willing to proclaim their undying love for me but the other refused, I was quick to banish her. But that was my mistake. I couldn’t see clearly enough to realize that the one who refused to speak was the one most devoted of all. I gave my fortune to my other daughters who in turn used it against me—leaving me out in a storm and leading me into psychosis. But I didn’t lose it completely until I saw Cordelia- my only faithful daughter-dead. The grief consumed me, and eventually I died. I only wish I had opened my eyes sooner and saw what was right in front of me all along. REGAN sits back in her chair, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. The other characters look at the walls, the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but at each other as they think about this in silence. A bell dings.

RECEPTIONIST: Regan? Mr. Shakespeare will see you now.

Regan: Well, while you dimwits are sitting there, mourning your pathetic lives, I will be getting the part that I was destined for! She jumps up and exits the room. Blackout.

SCENE TWO

A well-furnished office. A dark maple desk sits in the center, in front of a fully-stocked bookshelf. The door opens, and REGAN enters, mid sentence, facing whomever is coming in behind her.

REGAN: I expect at least twelve ten minute breaks a day, as well as my own dressing room and personal stylist. I do not drink anything besides Fiji Water, and I do not get up at any time before 9 AM. Am I being clear? WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE walks in behind her, his eyes squinting and his lips pursed.

SHAKESPEARE: As understandable as your demands are, I do not believe I have granted you the part yet…

REGAN: (pats him on the shoulder) Come on, Willy. We both know I’m your best option.

SHAKESPEARE: I’m afraid not, Regan. It seems you have one tragic flaw.

REGAN: Ex-squeeze me? I am FLAWLESS.

SHAKESPEARE: I’m sure you think that’s true. But for this new play that I am writing, I need my characters to be utter perfection. I have written many plays, as you know. However, I always had to kill off so many of my characters, due to their tendency to develop tragic flaws. I just don’t know what happened!

REGAN: Yeah. I wonder what the common thread is…

SHAKESPEARE: (continuing as if he did not hear her) So now that I am developing this new play, I have all of you actors here to audition for the parts.

REGAN: Okay. So where are the lines at? Aren’t I here to do a reading?

SHAKESPEARE: Actually, no. I have decided that the characters in this new play must be without flaws. So if you want a part in this play, you must conquer your one flaw that led to your downfall.

REGAN: What does that mean? What do I have to do?

SHAKESPEARE: Your greed led to your downfall. You wanted power and control and were selfish and cruel. To get a part in my play, you must spend a day feeding the poor and hungry to prove you have overcome your vanity and greed.

REGAN: Is this a joke?

SHAKESPEARE: You have twenty-four hours. BLACKOUT.

SCENE THREE

Same setting as the scene before, only now papers are scattered across the desk. HAMLET enters.

HAMLET: So as you can see, my resume is v-v-very impressive. I am a thoughtful, considerate actor. I take my time with my actions and consider every option before I act. SHAKESPEARE enters behind him, mid eye roll.

SHAKESPEARE: Yes, I have noticed that. Well you see, you’re a fine actor, I’ll give you that. However, you must fix one thing before I give you a part in my new play.

HAMLET: Wha-what would that be?

SHAKESPEARE: First of all, fix the stutter. I know I didn’t give you that. Second, you need to fix your tragic flaw. I gave you lines, I spelled out exactly what you had to do, and what did you do instead? You wandered around, ‘to be or not to be’ all that mumbo jumbo and your indecisiveness, or as you so eloquently put it, ‘consideration’ led to your demise. So to fix this, I need you to make a decision.

HAMLET: O-okay. Yes. I decide yes.

SHAKESPEARE: That was not your decision, but great start! Alas, you must make one of mankind’s toughest decisions.  You must complete a task that requires the shrewdest thinking. It is a task that many men have failed to complete and will continue to fail to complete until the end of time. This is a tough decision to make. But it must be done.

HAMLET: By God! Wha-what could you be asking of me?

SHAKESPEARE: You must make a decision…on what to order at a restaurant. BLACKOUT.

SCENE FOUR

Same office, however the previously scattered papers have been picked up and are in a stack. An open book is laid out on the desk, and papers are placed haphazardly in it. DESDEMONA is seated across the desk, her hands clasped as she nervously rocks back and forth on her chair. SHAKESPEARE is seated on the other side of the desk, his hands folded underneath his chin, his glasses perched on his nose.

SHAKESPEARE: Well?

DESDEMONA: I’m not sure what you’re asking me to do.

SHAKESPEARE: Your tragic flaw was your lack of assertiveness. You allowed the men around you to define you. This is what ultimately led to your downfall. You need to stand up for yourself.

DESDEMONA: You make it sound so easy.

SHAKESPEARE: It is.

DESDEMONA: How would you know? Are you a female living in a male-dominated society? How can you tell me that it is ‘so easy’ for a woman to stand up to a man when all my life I’ve been told to sit down and listen to the man?

SHAKESPEARE: Times are changing, my fair Desdemona. There is this new thing called ‘feminism’ arising. But alas, that is for another time, another play. I myself am not too fond of the idea, however, I do know that you allowed yourself to be murdered due to your inability to stand up for yourself.

DESDEMONA: So to get the part, I have to stand up for myself?

SHAKESPEARE: You must show assertiveness to a male. You have twenty-four hours.

SCENE FIVE

ROMEO is sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the chair, an eager smile on his face. JULIET sits next to him, her hands clutching his, a grin on her face as well. SHAKESPEARE sits across from them, his eyes on their hands, his face void of any sort of amusement. He sighs.

SHAKESPEARE: You two know that you’re very young…right?

JULIET: Very young and very in love.

ROMEO:  Forever and always. They kiss passionately. Shakespeare shudders, appearing to be close to vomiting. He swallows, hard. Then he speaks.

SHAKESPEARE: You two died because of your love. You fell for each other before you had any sort of worldly experience. Therefore, to fix your mistakes and earn parts in my play, you must perform specific tasks.

ROMEO: We’ll do anything!

JULIET: Yes! As long as we end up together!

SHAKESPEARE: To be in my play, you two must get jobs.

JULIET: Motherhood is the ultimate job.

SHAKESPEARE: First of all, ew. Second of all, I will assign you two jobs. Complete it once and you shall both be in my play. (Pause). Together.

JULIET: We’ll do it!

ROMEO: Anything to be with my true love!

SHAKESPEARE: Wonderful. I’m glad you’re both so agreeable. Romeo, a boy your age should be out mowing lawns. Therefore, I assign you landscaping. Juliet, if motherhood is what you desire, I am willing to give you a firsthand look at what you desire. You will babysit. I’ll see you both tomorrow after you have finished your jobs. Then we shall see who is chosen for my new play. He exits.

ROMEO: Juliet, what if we don’t both make it? In the play, I mean?

JULIET: (taking his face in her hands) My love, don’t even say such silly things. No matter what happens, we will be together. If one of us does not make it, neither of us will make it. We must stay together, okay?

ROMEO: We will. (They passionately kiss. The light fades to darkness)

SCENE SIX

The same office. KING LEAR and SHAKESPEARE sit across from one another, both in the exact same position, with their chin in their hands, their eyes trained on one another. It appears as if the two are in a staring competition.

KING LEAR: Sir, with all due respect…you blinded me. So I’m not sure how you expect me to…expect me to…

SHAKESPEARE: Your blindness was present long before you lost your vision. You failed to see what was right in front of you. That was what led to your foolish actions and mistakes.

KING LEAR: So how do I fix that?

SHAKESPEARE: I would suggest laser eye surgery, but I’m pretty sure that hasn’t been discovered yet. So I want you to go to the glasses store and buy yourself the perfect pair of spectacles.

KING LEAR: Spectacles? What will that do for me?

SHAKESPEARE: When you find the perfect pair of glasses, you shall finally be able to see clearly.

KING LEAR: So I must enter this so-called ‘glasses store’ and try on glasses until I find the perfect pair!

SHAKESPEARE: Exactly!

ACT TWO

SCENE ONE

The setting is a homeless shelter, the common grounds in particular, doubling as a soup kitchen. Throughout the room are homeless individuals seated on fold out chairs, in front of them bowls of soul on small end tables. To the right of the tables is a line filled with homeless people waiting to be served. Behind the table holding the pot of soup is REGAN dressed in attire inappropriate for the occasion, a fancy cocktail dress and heels, other than an apron that shows no signs of previous use. REGAN is complaining about her presence in the shelter more than helping serve the people in front of her. An older woman, presumably another volunteer, stands to the right of her, wearing an apron and hair net. She is serving food to homeless people and visibly ignoring REGAN.

REGAN: (holding a hair net) You can’t be serious...I am not going to wear this! Are we almost done? We’ve been here forever.

WOMAN: We’ve been here for less than thirty minutes. Please put your hair net on.

REGAN: (putting on hair net and muttering under her breath) Stupid play...homeless people...Shakespeare...sell out...probably didn’t even write his own plays…(REGAN takes a spoonful of pasta and slaps it onto a person’s plate. She continues this for three plates)

HOMELESS WOMAN: Bless your soul! (Reaches out and takes REGAN’s hand)

REGAN: Ew! Don’t touch me! (She lunges back in disgust and drops the spoon)

WOMAN: Regan! Go get another spoon!

REGAN: No way! Did you see how she touched me? I’m too pretty for this.

The scene freezes. REGAN looks around, confused. SHAKESPEARE enters.

SHAKESPEARE: Tsk, tsk, Regan. I really thought you could do it.

REGAN: You gave me the most ridiculous task. People actually do this willingly?

SHAKESPEARE: Alas, your vanity and self-absorption once again prevails. I’m sorry, Regan, but you will not be cast in my new play.

REGAN: Whatever! I didn’t want to be in it anyways!

SCENE TWO

A dark-lit restaurant with posters and objects hanging on the walls. Red booths align the walls. HAMLET sits at a table in the center, holding a thick menu. He is flipping through it, visibly anxious. A tall brunette waitress appears, wearing all black and holding a notepad in her hand.

WAITRESS: Hi, my name’s Ella. I’ll be taking care of you. What can I get you to drink?

HAMLET: Hello, E-ella. That’s a beautiful name.

ELLA: Thank you. Something to drink?

HAMLET: What would you suggest?

ELLA: Well, we have fountain drinks, milkshakes, wines, teas, coffee...whatever you’re in the mood for.

HAMLET: I...I don’t know what I’m in the m-mood for…

ELLA: I can start you off with water?

HAMLET: Y-yes...that would be lovely...

Ella exits

HAMLET: Okay...I need to order a meal. So let’s see here. Hamburgers, cheeseburgers, salads, chicken, steak...so many items.(His voice grows more panicked with each option) I could get breakfast...lunch...dinner...How is this even possible?

Ella enters

ELLA: Here’s your water. Have you made a decision?

HAMLET: Er...no…

ELLA: That’s okay, I can come back.

Ella exits

HAMLET: Okay, I need to decide. There’s pasta, sandwiches, pancakes...and sides? So many sides! Two sides for every meal? Why would they do this?

Ella enters

ELLA: Are you ready to order?

HAMLET: NO! How could a-anyone order off of this textbook you call a menu? What k-k-kind of torture is this? LEAVE ME!

The scene freezes. HAMLET is taking deep, jagged breaths. SHAKESPEARE enters.

SHAKESPEARE: Really, Hamlet? You couldn’t decide on a meal?

HAMLET: You are the d-d-devil.

SHAKESPEARE: Well, your indecisiveness cost you your life and more importantly, a part in my new play. Sorry, buddy. Maybe enroll in some speech therapy?

SCENE THREE

Inside a restaurant DESDEMONA and a man sit in a booth looking through the menu. A waitress approaches the table to take the couple's order.

WAITRESS: Are you ready to order?

MAN: Yes we are. I would like the New York strip steak, rare please.

WAITRESS: Alright. And for you Miss? (the waitress looks to DESDEMONA. DESDEMONA opens her mouth to respond).

MAN: (interrupting) She’ll have a salad. (gives her a sideways look) Dressing on the side.

DESDEMONA: Um?

WAITRESS: Alright, anything else?

MAN: No, I think we’re good.

WAITRESS begins to walk away.

DESDEMONA: I don’t...uh…

WAITRESS: (turning back) I’m sorry?

MAN: Nothing, she’s fine.

WAITRESS: Oh, okay.

DESDEMONA: No! I am not fine!

WAITRESS: Excuse me?

DESDEMONA: I don’t want a salad. And I definitely don’t want you. (Turns to waitress) I’d like a cheeseburger and fries, please. And a new table. (Gets up) Goodbye! (As she walks away, SHAKESPEARE appears and grabs her arm. She jerks it away from him, thinking it is her date)

SHAKESPEARE: Ah, you’ve done well! (She turns around, surprised, then pleased) You stood up for yourself and your desires and proved to be assertive. I would be honored if you played a role in my latest play.

SCENE FOUR

Outside of a house a truck pulls up and from inside ROMEO and an older man come out. The man watches as ROMEO unloads the lawn mowing equipment from the back of the truck and laughs as he struggles to mount the lawnmower.

MAN: Young man, we have three lawns to mow in just this neighbor. Do you think you can hurry up and start mowing already?

ROMEO: Oh, sure. (MAN exists) How does one even work this strange thing?

Finding the ignition, he climbs into the lawn mower and begins mowing the lawn. He looks up at the sky and the lawn mower begins to swerve. He does not notice.

ROMEO: But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the… (ROMEO sighs and crashes the lawnmower into a house. He gasps and jumps out, running his hands through his hair in shock)

The scene freezes. SHAKESPEARE enters.

SHAKESPEARE: Love is too distracting for someone of such a young age, Romeo. Someone who cannot perform such a simple adolescent job like lawn mowing is not old enough to experience love. Youth is the problem. You are not old enough for the part.

SCENE FIVE

A tall woman dressed in a sparkling blue dress is leading JULIET down a marble hallway. Expensive paintings align the walls.

MS. WOODS: So this is my home. I have three boys, Tommy, Frank and Alex. Tommy is eight, Frank is five, and Alex is four. My husband and I will be home around midnight. Any questions?

JULIET: None at all, madam. Have a wonderful night!

MS. WOODS practically races out of the house, not looking back once. Three boys enter. One is half Juliet’s height, with a backwards red baseball cap on his head. He is TOMMY. The second boy, FRANK, who is shorter, is holding a toy airplane. The toddler, ALEX, is holding TOMMY’s hand.

JULIET: Hello, boys! My, my, what are we up to?

FRANK: Will you play with us?

JULIET: Oh, of course! Would you like to play cards? Or perhaps some board games?

ALEX: Cars!

TOMMY: Will you play with the cars with us? (FRANK and ALEX wander off)

JULIET: Surely! Where can I find them? (There is a crash)

TOMMY: (smiling devilishly) Looks like they just did.

SCENE SIX

A carpeted room. JULIET is tied to a chair in the middle with a jumprope. ALEX is playing with a car by her feet. FRANK and TOMMY are crashing their monster truck toys into each other.

JULIET: Boys! This is not acceptable! Untie me!

FRANK: (zooming his car around the room) Vroom! Vroom!

TOMMY: (lunges for Frank, smashing his truck into his and also tackling him to the ground)

FRANK: Ow! That hurt!

JULIET: Boys! Now!

TOMMY: Oh, be quiet.

FRANK: Tommy, that really hurt! (Alex begins to cry. Tommy begins to zoom his monster truck around the room, making car noises while Frank keeps repeating, “ow, that hurt!”)

JULIET: ENOUGH! (The boys fall silent). I have had enough! Untie me right now, Thomas.

TOMMY: (unties JULIET quickly)

JULIET: Thank you. Now boys, your behavior has been unacceptable. All three of you will sit in time out for a few minutes to make up for it. Am I clear?

TOMMY: Yes…

FRANK: Sorry.

ALEX: Sorry.

(The scene freezes. JULIET rolls her eyes and begins to clean up the mess of toys that the boys have made. SHAKESPEARE appears.)

SHAKESPEARE: I have to say, I am impressed. You really pulled that off.

JULIET: They’re lovely boys. They just needed a firmer hand.

SHAKESPEARE: And you were able to do that. You really have shown me that you are able to overcome your foolishness to get a job done.  I would be honored if you would take a part in my new play.

JULIET: Oh, thank you!

(Blackout)

SCENE SEVEN

KING LEAR is walking around a room filled with glasses and mirrors. He is wandering about, looking frightened as he takes in the scenery. He stops at a table and picks up a pair of glasses. Upon taking them, he gasps and drops them to the floor. A sales associate appears almost immediately, a pair of glasses perched on her nose and a stern face.

SALES ASSOCIATE: Can I help you?

KING LEAR: Erm…I need a pair of these spectacles.

SALES ASSOCIATE: Well, alright. What kind of frame would you like?

KING LEAR: Frame? For pictures?

SALES ASSOCIATE: No, the shape of your lense. There’s square, rectangle, circle, oval…

KING LEAR: Oh, I don’t know! (He begins to sway, as if about to faint) I think I’m seeing stars…

SALES ASSOCIATE: Sorry, our glasses don’t come in that shape. (Pause) Have a seat. I’ll get you some glasses to try on. (He sits)

KING LEAR: How will I know which is the right pair?

SALES ASSOCIATE enters, holding three pairs of glasses.

SALES ASSOCIATE: Here, try this.

She hands him a pair of rectangle glasses. He tries them on, and exaggeratedly blinks. He looks up at her and gasps.

KING LEAR: I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING! IT’S ALL A BLUR!

SALES ASSOCIATE: That’s fine, take them off. They’re clearly not for you. (He takes them off and sighs happily. She hands him another pair.) Try this.

KING LEAR: (Putting on the new pair) Everything seems clear… (Turns to look at her) Oh my! You’re green!

SALES ASSOCIATE: They’re tinted. It’s all the rage with teens nowadays.

KING LEAR: I can’t wear green glasses! Everyone looks like an ogre! (Lowers voice and fakes a Scottish accent) Get out of my swamp!

SALES ASSOCIATE: Okay, Shrek. Give them here. (He hands her the glasses) Hm..alright. Try these ones. (She hands him a circle-framed pair)

KING LEAR: (Putting them on) Hm… (He gets up and looks around, exaggeratedly blinking) These seem...okay…

REGAN enters, stomping on the ground, her hair a mess and her face red with anger.

REGAN:(yelling) Daddy! I need you to take care of Shakespeare for me! That sell-out said I wasn’t good enough to be in his play! You need to do something!

KING LEAR leaps back in fear and points at her, his hand shaking.

KING LEAR: Evil! Evil! I can see it clearly now! EVIL!

REGAN: What are you even saying? Ugh, whatever. I’m going to have to take care of him myself. (Begins to exit, mumbling to herself) I’ll just tell everyone he didn’t write his own plays...that should do it!

KING LEAR: My...I can see! I see her for what she truly is!

SHAKESPEARE enters.

SHAKESPEARE: Yes, you have found the perfect pair. Not the most attractive, but nonetheless, the perfect pair. Now that you can see everything as it is for what it truly is, I have a part in my play just for you.

KING LEAR: I would love to be in it.

SCENE EIGHT

The seven characters, REGAN, HAMLET, DESDEMONA, JULIET, ROMEO, KING LEAR, and POLONIUS, are standing behind a curtain. They are all standing quietly, looking nervous and frightened. REGAN is staring at herself in her compact mirror. HAMLET is tapping his foot. DESDEMONA is biting her nails. JULIET and ROMEO are holding hands. KING LEAR is wearing his new glasses and glancing about the room in awe, and POLONIUS is nervously stroking the curtain.

POLONIUS: This curtain seems rather...familiar. I’m getting a bad feeling from it.

REGAN: Quiet, Grandpa.

There is a loud drumming noise. The curtain lifts and the seven characters walk out onto a stage. SHAKESPEARE is standing in the center, a smile on his face.

SHAKESPEARE: Welcome to my theatre! It’s called the Globe. Here, only the best performers act in the best shows for only the most worthy of audiences!

REGAN: (Feigning a whisper but actually very loud) It smells awful in here!

SHAKESPEARE: (pretending he did not hear her but a look of annoyance has crossed his face) And now, I will read you your fate!

HAMLET: F-f-fate?

SHAKESPEARE: I gave all of you tasks to complete to fix your fatal flaws. If you were able to, you have a part in my play written specifically for you. But if you didn’t, you will leave here, and never come back. (Long dramatic pause. It lasts for a whole minute, and the characters begin to shift uncomfortably)

DESDEMONA: So did we-

SHAKESPEARE: Shush! (Pause. He sighs) I was pausing for dramatic effect. Gosh. (He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he sucks in air. His eyes open, and the devilish grin has appeared once again on his face) Here we go. (His voice takes on the tone very similar to a game show host) You’ve all worked up to this moment. But only a select few of you will be chosen. This is it, everyone. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. (Pause) Desdemona, step forward. (She steps forward) Now, Desdemona, step backward. (She steps backward). Now, step forward. (She steps forward)

REGAN: What, is she doing the cha cha? (All the other characters laugh.)

SHAKESPEARE: (rolling his eyes) I’m just trying to keep you all on your toes. (Turns to DESDEMONA) Okay, stay in the front line. Juliet, take a step forward. (She steps forward) Good. King Lear, take a step forward. (KING LEAR steps forward) Okay. Those of you in the front...you are all… (Pause) In my next play! Congratulations! Back row, I’m sorry, but this is the end of the road for you.

HAMLET: What? No!

REGAN: Sell out!

POLONIUS: I knew this would happen! HAMLET, REGAN and POLONIUS begin to argue while DESDEMONA and KING LEAR hug and chatter excitedly. SHAKESPEARE stands proudly, his hands on his hips, a smug grin on his face.

ROMEO: (runs over to JULIET, taking her hands.) I’m so sorry I couldn’t get in the play, Juliet. But I promise you, we will get into the next one. (Begins to lead her away)

JULIET: What are you doing?

ROMEO: I didn’t get into the play. If one of us didn’t make it, neither of us would make it, remember?

JULIET: (Pulling her hand away) Yeah… I changed my mind.

ROMEO: (recoils back in shock, his eyes wide) Changed your-changed your mind? Why that’s-that’s preposterous! You can’t change your mind! Not when it comes to love!

JULIET: See, that’s what I’m saying. Everything with you is about love. It’s all serious and sappy, like (mimics a male voice) oh, Juliet, I love you so much, I’d die without you, uhhh… (voice returns to normal) Babysitting those boys made me realize the responsibilities that I’ll have to take when I have children. And honestly, I am so not ready for that. And neither are you. I’m sorry, Romeo, but I’m taking this part. Without you.

ROMEO: (sputtering) But-but, Juliet...You can’t-you can’t-

JULIET: What are you? Hamlet? (She spins around and walks away, hugging DESDEMONA then KING LEAR, leaving ROMEO alone)

SHAKESPEARE approaches him and pats him on the back.

SHAKESPEARE: It’s okay, lad. All’s well that ends well! (Blackout)