#floss those teeth girl

[leefi]

itchy tooth all day. constant runny nose & cough continuing on 5 days after I recovered from my cold. ears feeling plugged/high-pressure and popping (then getting replugged again) over the past week. haven’t heard things around me properly in days. I’m about to bite into someone

[i99zhuo]

A routine inspired by thewizardliz ? She has skin care hair care routine reads motivating books

How to live like thewizardliz 🧚🏼‍♀️🪄⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ quit your lazy girl era!

This is a guide on daily routines inspired by Thewizardliz! This routine is perfect to stop being lazy and pathetic and finally start taking care of yourself!

content list (routines):

morning

study

workout

shower + self care

night

(_ _ ) . . z Z⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨ :★: ୧ ∗  ˖࣪ ໒꒱  ˚₊·

✸ ꒰ morning routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

🧼 First things first, after you wake up make sure to drink water to boost your metabolism throughout the day! Also, create a mind movie so you can watch it everyday after you wake up.

Now, take your journal and start writing about your dream, ideal higher self, ask yourself questions like ‘What reality do i want to create?´ 'Who do i look up to?’ ‘What is the behavior I need to change about myself?’ ‘What's a new habit that I would like to create?’ ‘What is a thing I can focus on right now?’. After we have in mind who we want to become, it's important that every little decision you make today is centered to achieve your goals, and become your dream self. You can listen to a podcast while doing this so you get motivation!

💶 Then, head to the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror and start repeating positive affirmations, such as ‘I am so beautiful’ or ‘My hair looks so pretty today’, even if you don't believe it, having a positive mindset is going to help us to stay in track with our goals!

Take care of your teeth, Liz says that our smile is one of the most important things in a person, and one of the key things that is going to make you more attractive! so, make sure to brush your teeth, floss, clean your tongue, etc.

🛣 Liz has a rather simple skincare routine, since her skin is so sensitive, it only consists of using a foam cleanser, moisturizer and eye cream to help with her eye bags.

Next step is to research and find our own personal clothing and makeup style, find out your body type, personal color, face shape, etc. It doesn't matter if you have to mix multiple styles that already exist to make your own! The most important thing is to feel comfortable while wearing those clothes or having that type of makeup on your face.

🏔 Liz doesn't like to force herself to have breakfast, she just dont eat if she's not hungry, however if you are hungry rather than focusing on calories focus on how nutritious your meal is. Whatsoever if you are not hungry and you are not going to eat, make sure to always take your vitamins and supplements!

✸ ꒰ study routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

Yes, it's time to drink a little more water!

⛰ Liz doesn't have a settled study routine but, it's important to spend our time wisely, if you can finish an assignment way before the time it's due, DO IT! Also, she emphasized that knowledge leads to confidence. If you put effort in your studies, every little thing in your life will slowly fall into place.

✸ ꒰ workout routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

First, set healthy goals, like toning up your body or building muscle, try not to make ‘just being skinny’ your goal.

🧩 second, don't measure yourself with a scale or measuring tape and focus on how you look in the mirror, are you satisfied? if you are then you are done with the intense workout routine!

Liz goes to the gym and has her own personal training program, but here’s some kind of exercises she recommends; weight training, pilates and dancing with her main focus being toning up her abs and butt.

🏄‍♀️ Remember to drink water and that consistency is more important than perfection, go at your own pace, it doesn't matter if you can't do a 2 hour workout and look snatched in 3 days and you can only do a 5 minute workout, every little effort adds up!

✸ ꒰ shower and self care routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

Before showering, do dry brushing to exfoliate your skin and increase circulation (1-2 times per week). Then use shampoo and conditioner, research to find the best one for you, what may help others won't help you. Liz also uses a hair mask 1 to 2 times per week to get that shiny silk hair.

🎾 After showering take some time to shape and pluck your eyebrows depending on your face shape and what impression you want to give! 

Liz uses face masks 1 to 2 times per week to cleansing her face deeply, then she does her skincare. After applying all the products do a lymphatic massage on your face and neck, you can also cool down your face with massagers or cold spoons for an extra depuff.

🍾 For self care, you can journal again, search for shadow work prompts, think of what things you should unlearn and relearn and don't forget to practice gratitude. Or you can take time to clean your room or house, you deserve to have a clean safe place! 

Oh! and don't forget to drink water again.

✸ ꒰ night routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

🧃 Time for dinner! (only if you are not full yet), again, make sure to focus on nutrients rather than calories. Don't forget to drink a glass of water with your dinner. You can watch a documentary while eating to keep gaining even more knowledge.

Now, do your oral hygiene routine again. Also, put on eyelash conditioner and serum to wake up with perfect lashes! Then wear a silk cap or do a protective hairstyle to protect your hair from getting damaged while you're sleeping.

🍵 Then get in bed and drink a cup of tea with collagen to start relaxing your body. and it's finally time to manifest! watch your mind movie again and use your most useful method (affirming visualizing, subliminals, etc.), don't forget to ask god, the universe or whatever you believe in for signals and help!

Afterwards, you can read an inspirational book like ‘atomic habits’ or ‘the art of thinking clearly’ to keep nourishing your brain. keep a reachable goal like reading 5 pages everyday and then decide if you want to continue reading or not.

🥬 Before sleeping listen to a guided meditation, liz have one to be more confident and one to attract money, choose one that aligns with your goals!

Finally fall asleep in a healthy sleeping position, Liz sleeps in her back looking at the roof, but you can choose your favorite position, don't forget to get a pillow that fits the position (example: tall and lofty pillow -> for sleeping on your side)

🍈 Good night!

Woah second request done!! hope you liked this one was pretty fun to do and I might add some of these things in my own personal routine so I don't fall back into laziness, anyways how about you guys??

toodlezzzz!1!!!!!

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

With your posts about Vaggie teaching a Chaggie baby to fly via chucking, I now imagine her learning to fly much like how she learned to trust people (throwing them off a roof into an active battle), and apparently the exorcists make a hobby of throwing each other.

Lute: "Welcome to heaven, new blood."

Vaggie: "Heaven. So I really am..."

Adam: "You're dead and newbie ordained and shit. Congrats!"

Vaggie: "Thanks...?"

Adam: "Uh-huh yeah it's totally awesome here, great job not fucking up down there and you're welcome for existing. All my doing, by the way. The you as a thing I mean. First dick here, incase you wanna fall on your knees and thank me or whatever."

Vaggie: "...right."

Lute: "Right, sir."

Vaggie: "Sir?"

Adam: "Aw chill danger tits! Newbie's just sticking it to the man which is like, my brand! Anyway."

Adam: (picks teeth) "Any idea how to use those wings of yours?"

Vaggie: "No, sir?"

Adam: "Wanna get a sweeet flying tip?"

Vaggie: "Yes sir."

Adam: "Cool! Tip number one is-"

Lute: "Don't fall." (SHOVES vaggie off cloud)

Adam: "...."

Lute: "...."

Adam: "...weren't you supposed to fucking catch her?"

Lute: "Sorry sir. I thought you liked doing that part."

Adam: "Yeah usually I totally would- swooping in like a badass at the last sec is SO awesome! ....but I've got this stupid fucking seed stuck in my teeth...."

Lute: "I'm sorry to hear that, sir."

Adam: "Well fucking hey! Maybe she caught herself somewhere under those last few clouds! You did on your second try, didn't you?"

Lute: "Yes. But not every new girl can be a-"

Vaggie: "What's the next tip."

Adam: (SHRIEKING) "AAAA HOLY SHIT FUCK-" (punts vaggie off again)

Lute: "..."

Lute: "...sir."

Adam: "Yeah yeah whatever. You go fetch her, danger tits. I gotta to go floss with a divine guitar string or something."

-years later-

Vaggie: "...and that's how I learned how to fly, and how to brace for impact the second time around. And to dodge the third time I startled Adam. And that I can heal very quickly even after breaking every bone in my body."

Vaggie: "Then I met my sisters in arms and they taught me to constantly check if someone's sneaking up behind me whenever I'm near a high edge of any kind."

Vaggie: "That's, a pretty normal way to learn. Right?"

Charlie: "......."

Charlie: "....wellllll-"

Vaggie: "Don't tell me. Another trauma."

Charlie: "I think the blunt force of the impact that broke every bone in your body probably counts, yes."

Vaggie: "Did I traumatize our kid by throwing her off the roof, Charlie."

Charlie: "If she was any OTHER kid I'd again say probably!"

Charlie: "But you DID catch her and she just laughed, and now our darling baby keeps climbing up me to try launching herself off again, so I think we're good! Aside from my racing heartrate anyway- GAH BABY NO!!!"

baby: (launching self) "WHEEEE HEE HEE-!"

Vaggie: "Gotcha." (catches) "Sweetie, don't traumatize your mom."

Charlie: (clutching chest and hanging off of vaggie) "IM OKAY!!!!!"

baby: "Ooo... hee~"

[ginnsbaker]

the follow up

Summary: Sequel to 'prophylaxis'. Wanda's follow up appointment with you, her dentist. Includes ice cream, Vision playing matchmaker and Wanda's questionable taste in music

Word count: 3k | Warnings: None. Tooth-rotting fluff. Pun intended.

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader | Platonic Wanda Maximoff X Vision

Author's note: Let's pretend that the Sokovian accords resolved itself without Tony and Steve divorcing | P.S couldn't resist inserting a T.S. lyric (sorry not sorry)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

Wanda Maximoff is strapped to a chair.

Again.

Fortunately, it's not because she'd been caught behind enemy lines or had to be restrained because of those stupid accords that nobody really cares about except Tony and Steve. 

No, Wanda Maximoff is at the dentist's office. 

Again.

Okay, so, she’s not strapped per se, but the patient bib she wears over her clothes certainly feels like one, especially when that chair starts to tilt back as soon as you nudge the adjustor with your foot. It's like being bound in place, just without the actual restraints.

Her lips are dry, and her heart is beating just a little too fast, but not from fear this time. It's a different sort of edginess that Wanda feels, especially when you lean in too close to her face to check her molars. Your face is just inches from hers, eyebrows strewn in concentration and eyes focused. Wanda tries to look away, but there's nowhere to look except the ceiling or into those scrutinizing eyes.

It also doesn’t help that you smell absolutely incredible. Last week, you smelled like raindrops on petals. Today, you smell like cinnamon and vanilla, and she finds both scents comforting and addicting. 

“So, Wanda,” you say, your voice calm and gentle, “How have you been taking care of your teeth since the last visit?”

“Uh, fine,” Wanda tries to articulate the words properly but all that comes out is a garbled “ahhh fuh”. You don't mock her in any way; instead, you display an expert understanding of your patients' speech patterns. 

“You've been brushing and flossing?”

Wanda nods.

“Good girl,” you say, and even though your smile is hidden behind the mask, she can still see it in your eyes. They crinkle at the corners, and it just sends something warm and happy in Wanda’s chest whenever she sees it. 

But there’s nervousness, too.

In fact, a lot of things about you make her nervous. After all, your kind used to be the bane of her existence.

You turn away to prepare the necessary tools, and Wanda's mind starts to wander. How many patients do you see in a day? Are you always this nice and charming to them? 

Are they also nervous around you? Or is it just her?

“Alright, Wanda,” you say, turning back to her, your eyes kind and understanding. “Let's get started. Just a small pinch, and you'll feel a little numb.”

She nods again, and the procedure begins. 

As you work, you talk about mundane things and the new plant you acquired over the weekend. You also talk a little about the Avengers compound and the unique experiences that come with being their on-call dentist, especially with a synthezoid who insists on getting their teeth checked. 

Wanda answers more freely now, her initial hesitation gone. She finds herself enjoying your company–enjoying this dental appointment, of all things–and even laughing at some of your anecdotes.

Finally, the fillings are in place, and you help her rinse her mouth.

“See?” you say, patting her shoulder. “That wasn't so bad.”

Wanda beams at you, feeling quite proud of herself. “No, it wasn't. Thank you.”

“There are still three more that might need fillings, but we can schedule that for some other time. Don’t want you to get overwhelmed,” you add with a cheeky wink that has Wanda unwittingly clutching the armchair tightly.

You carefully set your tools down on the tray, giving Wanda some room to breathe. Right then, the numbing effect of the anesthesia begins to fade and Wanda winces, her hand instinctively coming up to her jaw, fingers massaging the area where the discomfort is blooming. 

Seeing her reaction, you recall the ice cream you'd thoughtfully stashed away after she’d confirmed her appointment.

“Feeling a bit tender there?” you ask, moving towards the small refrigerator you keep in the room. “I have just the thing.”

Wanda looks at you curiously as you retrieve a container of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream. Her eyes widen, and she exclaims, “How did you know this is my favorite?”

You blush as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. You hadn't expected Wanda to notice the specific flavor of the ice cream, let alone comment on how suspiciously perfect it was that you picked her favorite. 

“Well, I may have called the Avengers compound and asked around,” you say, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck. “It was Vision–was it?–who knew. Said you always choose this one.”

You extend the tub of Cherry Garcia to Wanda, and as she takes it, your fingers briefly brush against hers. Both of you pause at the unexpected touch, a small gasp escaping her lips. You quickly shift your attention to the utensil drawer, pulling out a spoon and handing it to her. But instead of digging in immediately, she hesitates, glancing up at you. 

The white mask you're wearing has kept your full face hidden throughout the appointment, and now, she'd be utterly disappointed if she never gets a peek at your face, which is partly the reason she agreed to come here in the first place.

Wanda Maximoff can’t have that. After sitting through an hour in that torture chair, she needs to be rewarded. And not just with ice cream. 

“Would you... would you like to share it with me?” she asks hesitantly, trying to be subtle–

 “I'd really like to see your face, just once.”

–and then failing at subtlety half a second later.

You blink, surprised at her straightforwardness, and feel a deeper blush spread across your cheeks. Her request is unconventional, yes, but it's also earnest and endearing. Slowly, you reach up and remove the mask, unveiling the smile that Wanda's been so desperate to see.

“Well, I do have quite the sweet tooth, so I couldn't possibly refuse.” you say.

You sit side-by-side on the coach, your knees touching ever so often. You occasionally find yourself pointing to Wanda's lips, indicating where she needs to wipe away the stray cream. Wanda blushes at your attentiveness, but she can't help but appreciate the caring gesture.

Wanda truly wants to prolong this moment, this unexpected opportunity to have you all to herself. But as delightful as the company is, ice cream has its own rules, and it's not much enjoyable when it's melted. So, despite her desire to make the moment stretch on, the ice cream is finished in under ten minutes. 

Staring at the empty tub, the idea that she might not be the only one to experience this side of you fills her with both reassurance and a hint of envy. Wanda can't help but wonder if there's something special about the connection you share during these brief appointments, or if your comforting demeanor is simply part of being a skilled and compassionate dentist.

Either way, she wants to do something with you that would set her apart from all your other patients.

“Um, so,” she begins, fumbling with her words, her eyes darting around the room before landing on yours. “I was thinking, you know, if you're not too busy or anything, maybe we could... do this again? Not the dental part!” she quickly adds, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I mean, maybe dinner, or a movie, or whatever you like? If you want to, of course.”

You look at her with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape, as if you're trying to catch the words that just slipped out of her mouth. Is it a date? Is it just a friendly outing? Regardless, it's not typically professional to see a patient outside of the clinic, especially one as renowned as Wanda Maximoff. 

“Wanda,” you start. “You’re interesting, funny, and truly amazing.”

You watch as Wanda’s face becomes hopeful, which makes you want to strangle yourself for what you have to say next. 

“But I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to consider the professional boundaries that I need to maintain.”

Wanda's eyes widen momentarily, and then she quickly masks her disappointment with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Oh, of course, I understand,” she says, her voice light, but not quite reaching her eyes. “I shouldn't have asked. It was silly of me.”

But you can see the hurt in her eyes, the way her shoulders slump just a little, the way her smile doesn't scrunch her nose the way it normally does. She's trying to brush it off, to act like it doesn't matter, but you can tell that it does.

With that, your time together draws to a close. You ask Wanda if she wants to schedule another filling for her remaining molars, but she merely shakes her head, telling you she'll have to think about it. Her eyes avoid yours, and her voice is distant, a clear indication of how your rejection has affected her.

You watch her walk away, a part of you wishing you could call her back, and another part knowing that you made the right choice. 

It's the first time you experience a profound sense of loathing towards your profession as a dentist.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t invite you back next year for another routine check-up.

-

Which makes your predicament the following day all the more baffling.

One second, you're tending to a tall, blonde, seemingly ordinary man in your dental chair, going through the routine motions of preparing for a check-up. You turn your back for a moment to prepare your tools, lost in thought and still reeling from yesterday's encounter with Wanda.

When you turn to face your patient again, your heart skips a beat, your hands freezing in place. 

The man is no longer blonde and ordinary but bald and a striking shade of red.

In a snap, it’s another Avenger in your hands.

You clear your throat, forcing a smile as you approach the chair. “Mr. Vision,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

Vision is ready to correct you with your use of ‘Mr.’ but then he tilts his head, deciding he likes the title next to his name.

“It's my pleasure to see you, Doctor,” he smiles at you, sitting perfectly still.

You blink at him, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that a synthezoid–one who technically doesn't even have biological teeth–is sitting in your dental chair. You can't help but wonder if this is some kind of joke or if Wanda sent him to kill you.

When you continue to stand unmoving in your position, Vision says, “I’m here for a check-up.”

Huh. 

Okay?

You reach for the mouth mirror and probe, tools typically used for human patients, and hesitate for just a moment. 

How exactly does one perform a check-up on a synthezoid?

Vision seems to read your uncertainty, his crystal-blue eyes meeting yours. “I assure you, I have all the components you would find in a human mouth,” he says. 

You nod, beginning to understand. Gathering your focus, you proceed to perform the unusual check-up he's requesting. As you explore his mouth, you find yourself fascinated by the impeccable craftsmanship that went into creating Vision. Every tooth, every gum, is a perfect imitation of its human counterpart. 

You find yourself feeling a little jealous of his orthodontic assets. 

As you continue the check-up, he starts to share some stories, his voice even and clear despite your probing.

“You know, Wanda once fed an alley full of stray cats during a mission in Bucharest,” he says, a soft chuckle in his voice. “We were on a surveillance assignment, and she noticed them, all huddled together, looking hungry. Before I knew it, she had conjured up bowls of food for them all. It was quite a sight.”

You pause, caught by the image of Wanda surrounded by furry, adorable kittens. “That sounds adorable.” you reply, moving on to examine his upper molars. 'Cute' was the word on the tip of your tongue, exactly what you meant to say. But you know as well as anyone that finding a patient cute is off-limits.

He continues, “Yes, Wanda has a way with things. Once, back at the Avengers HQ, she'd make her dinner portion smaller so the guys with big appetites could eat their fill. Even Natasha, who's quite the cook, found it a stretch sometimes to satisfy the team's hunger.”

And then as he drones on about Wanda, you slowly begin to piece together what's really happening here. Vision isn't just in your clinic for a check-up. 

He's talking up Wanda. 

To you.

As if Wanda even needed talking up.

All you could think about was the brunette with her soulful green eyes and a smile that makes you go weak in the knees. Your heart skips a beat at the very thought of her.

But it's not just because Wanda is your patient that you rejected her. There's the awe and reverence you feel towards her as an Avenger, a symbol of justice and freedom, a hero who seems to belong to the world more than to any one person. And then there's the raw, personal part of you, still healing from a toxic relationship that ended only six months ago.

And as Vision concludes his tales of Wanda by sharing how she's the only one patient enough to show him the ropes of what being human is, you see through his carefully crafted façade. 

He's here to bridge the gap, to make Wanda more accessible, more human in your eyes. He wants you to see her not just as a public figure but as a person with feelings, quirks, and simple kindnesses.

And more than that, he wants you to realize that you're an idiot for saying no to someone as wonderful as Wanda Maximoff.

“You’re not really here for a check-up, are you?” you smile at him knowingly.

Vision looks at you, his synthetic eyes almost mischievous and for a while you forget that he isn’t human. 

He pauses for a moment, as if considering his next words, and then he smiles back.

“No,” he finally says, his voice carrying a hint of both humor and sincerity. “I'm not.”

He then continues, his tone turning thoughtful. “Wanda has been... sulking. For hours, locked up in her room listening to ‘Lips of an Angel’ on repeat. She told me before that I am her 'best friend,'” he says, the term slightly foreign in his mouth. “I looked up what that means, and it included helping her be happy.”

Apart from the reveal of what kind of music Wanda listens to, you feel Vision’s words tugging at your heart strings. Well, at least until he says–

“Natasha explained to me that Wanda is being, as she put it, 'emo' because she got rejected by a possible... sexual mate.”

You'd choke on your water if you were drinking one.

That's not what you expected him to say, not in the least. The sentence hits you like a left-field curveball, utterly disrupting the flow of the conversation. It's so... so... un-Vision-like, and yet, here he is, stating it as matter-of-factly as he might describe the weather.

“Given that, I would like to ask you to reconsider going out with my ‘best friend’.”

You're still coming to grips with everything that's just happened. Vision, Wanda's “best friend” here in your clinic, attempting to play matchmaker. What he's asking isn't small, but the way he's asking, the care he's shown in understanding human relationships, his concern for Wanda's feelings–it all makes you pause.

You think about what you were doing on your computer last night, googling Wanda’s name and trying to find out all you could about the young Avenger.

Finally making a decision, you look up at Vision squarely in the eye. 

“Would you happen to know Wanda’s email address?” you ask, fiddling with the lapels of your white coat. “And also her phone number?”

-

“Oh, thank god,” Natasha sighs as she hears Wanda hit pause on the 46th replay of Lips of an Angel.

Yes, 46. Natasha had made Vision count, and that doesn't include the ones he missed when she urgently dispatched him to you to remediate the Wanda situation immediately.

She hears someone whistling a tune coming from the hallway and is surprised to see Vision, apparently adopting Steve's habit in his eagerness to act more human.

“Mission accomplished?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.

Vision stops whistling, a look of satisfaction in his synthetic eyes. “I believe I made some progress. Our friend has promised to think about reconsidering the decision.”

“Just think about it? You were gone quite a while for a 'maybe.'”

Vision pauses, his head tilting slightly. “I believe I was able to present Wanda in a way that may help our friend realize her feelings for her.”

“You think she has feelings for our Wanda?” Natasha's voice betrays her surprise, and she can't quite catch herself using the word ‘our’. She continues, slightly flustered, “I was thinking maybe she'd just indulge Wanda's crush for a while, then befriend her, so as not to completely shut her down.”

“I observed her vitals while telling her about Wanda, and all the signs point to yes, she has feelings for our Wanda,” Vision answers, thoughtfully echoing Natasha's use of ‘our’. 

She smirks, leaning against the wall. “Well, let's hope your efforts pay off. I can't take another 46 replays of that song.”

Vision stoically considers Natasha's last statement. “Actually, Agent Romanoff, I must disagree. I could listen to another replay. Technically, it's a well-composed song.”

Natasha's face twists into a look of mock disgust. “I swear, if you start advocating for boy bands next, I'm holding Wanda personally responsible.”

“I'll consider that when expanding my musical repertoire.”

She waves a dismissive hand, still grinning. “Just don't start singing in the shower. We've got enough noise in the mornings as it is.”

-

Around the time that Wanda has just hit pause on the Hinder hit that has been playing on loop, a notification sounds off her laptop. 

She quickly turns her attention to it and clicks on the email that has arrived from your clinic. Inside, there's a referral letter personally written by you, referring Wanda to another colleague of yours.

You no longer want to be her dentist, the email makes that clear. Somehow, this hurts more than your rejection of her yesterday.

Before she can fully process the referral, her phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number. She hesitates, before deciding to answer. “Hello?”

“Hi, Wanda. It’s Y/N. F-From the clinic?” you breathe out in a rush, the words tangled with your nerves. Wanda takes note of how your voice sounds over the phone–deeper and more intimate against her ear.

She takes a moment to reply, still a little thrown by the referral. “Oh, hi. I just read your email,” she says.

“Yes, about that…” You trail off, pausing as you try to find the right words. “I was thinking, instead of discussing that over the phone, maybe we could talk about it over dinner on Friday? If you're free–”

“I’d love to,” Wanda quickly accepts, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest.

You try to suppress a chuckle, grateful that Wanda can’t see your cheeks turning a rosy pink. 

“Great! I'll pick you up at seven?"

“Seven it is.” Her reply is soft, almost shy. You say your goodbyes, both of you grinning to yourselves as you both hang up. 

Back in her room, Wanda stares at her phone, a broad smile on her face, touching it as if it's your face.

She presses play on the song once more, not as a lament but as a triumph. 

Much to Natasha’s dismay.

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Heeeey

I just saw a tiktok that said Percy "I hate bullies" Jackson soo can I ask for a fic where the reader is new at the camp and is harassed by an ares kid or an aphrodite kid and Percy help them ?

Not necessarily a romantic story, I just thought it would be sweet

you may have broken me out of my writing slump lol. thanks for the platonic ask <3 <3 <3 I miss those lol. enjoy!

Percy defends reader from the camp menace

»»————-　★　————-««

You walked up the grassy path, bag over one shoulder. The rich green strawberry field stretched out to your right, filling the valley with the smell of summer and fruit. The air was warm too, and you’d like to fall asleep in the flower rings after the stress of the day.

Clouds drifted like fairy floss. You had a bandage over one arm where the feral ‘harpy’ had got you, but other than that, and a healthy dose of fear, you were unharmed. 

A good outcome for a monster attack, according to the blonde boy who’d wrapped up your wound before sending you along to a purple haired girl called Lou Ellen, who dragged you around the dangerous summer camp, pointing out where all the death traps and instant coffee makers were located.

And now you were here, standing outside the little wooden shack by the Infirmary where you’d started, with a handful of massive golden coins the horse man had given you, that matched the sun in the sky. Hopefully they sold sunscreen in the camp store. 

You pushed aside the beaded curtain and peeked around, sneakers squeaking on the floor. You were going to have to duct tape the sole of your shoe back on as well, since that feathered little bitch tried to swallow it hole.

You shivered at the thought, and stepped though. 

The first thing you noticed was the wind chimes and sparkly glass dream catcher looking decorations hanging by the windows and from the roof. A few racks of orange shirts and hoodies were lined up on the far wall, past the ice-cream fridges and boxes of toiletries. 

The scratched up bag you had with you, filled with lip balms and headphones and snacks and one hoodie, wasn’t enough. So you picked out a spiderman toothbrush and a stick of deodorant, opting to not get any gum in case it was magical, after reading the price tags to discover the currency was called drachmae’s. 

Why did the ancient Greeks have to make everything so complicated? Couldn’t they have just chilled out?

Empty necklace strings hung off hooks nailed into the wall. You brushed them aside to get to the shirts. Lou had said you needed a few, considering how often things tended to get incinerated. The shop had your size, thankfully in English, so you took two. A boy with a pink bow in his hair and a name tag reading Mitchell walked past with a stack of jars. 

You approached the bench with your arms full of supplies, and dumped them. “...Uh excuse me?”

Someone bumped around behind the bench and after a few crashes, a brown haired boy popped up. There was a bandaid over his nose, and he held a hand out. “Pleased to meet you.”

You squinted at him for a moment, and then shook his hand. “Hi.”

Something else crashed on the other side of the shop. A winged horse trotted behind you, opened the ice-cream freezer with its teeth, took out a Callipo, shut the glass door with a hoof, and then left. You turned back to the cashier. “Just these please.”

He took all your things and ripped the little white paper tags off them, folding up your shirts really badly. Then he started counting the white tags. Really slowly. He mucked up, somehow, and then started again. “Two, five… wait, no, four…”

The windchimes bumped against each other as your annoyance grew. You stuck your hands in your pockets. He kept counting. You only had four things! You were glad you hadn’t added a packet of gum to the pile. 

You picked at the bandage on your arm. It was still hurting a little.

Mitchel finished putting the jars on their shelf, and turned back to the staff only door. “Oi! Jackson! Where’d all the incense go?”

“Seven… eight and a half…” The cashier guy finally finished, and punched the numbers into the cash register. Finally. He grinned. “Cash or card?”

There was no eftpos machine. What was his problem? All you wanted to do was eat dinner with your new family, find a bed, and go to sleep. And get some painkillers. And wash all the monster blood off your hands. You bit back a sigh, and reached for the bag of coins in your pocket. 

It was gone. 

You felt your face heat up as you checked the rest of your pockets and then your bag you knew definitely didn’t have a hole in the bottom. Your eyes prickled, and you told them off silently.

The boy behind the bench just stared at you with a smile.

“Uh…”

The staff only door banged open. The boy in the doorway glared at the cashier with alarmingly bright green eyes. There were a lot of people in this camp. You really needed to learn names. “Oi! Connor! Stop fucking with people!”

“Fine,” the cashier, Connor, huffed, and tossed your bag of coins back at you.

You caught them, glared at him, and then dug through it for the right amount to give to him. Eight and a half, how were you supposed to give him half a coin? 

Green eyes stomped around the umbrella and also nunchucks stand, reading the cash register. He read it about three times. 

Why could these people not count?

“Connor you fuckwit,” green eyes scoffed, tapping at the buttons. He searched through the tags again and then took seven of your coins, all while you stood there and wished the ground would open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

His tag read Percy. He handed you your things, and then a lemonade icey-pole from under the bench. You took it cautiously, and watched as he grabbed Connor’s ear, and dragged him out of the camp store.

You were left alone in there for a second, so you zipped up your bag and left quickly. 

“Please no! Not the toilets!” Connor screeched, as he was shoved back down the path quickly. 

Percy cupped his mouth as he yelled. “Clarisse! Come beat up Connor!”

You opened your icey-pole. 

»»————-　★　————-««

[loveletters2myself]

look clean, smell clean, feel clean 🫧🪽🕯️✨🤍

double cleanse your body! wash first with a bar soap, preferably with a wash cloth or wash glove to help with exfoliating all the dirt and sweat from the day. and replace your cloths every day. that’s why i recommend them more than using a regular loofah. those things build up so much bacteria, you’re better off using something you can wash every day. silicone brushes are great too, but do replace them after a few months. scrub well, everywhere. don’t forget neglected areas such as behind the ears, between finger & toes, belly button, etc. finish off with a body wash.

for the lady bits, keep it simple with unscented bar soap only. washing only your vulva. you want to make sure you’re cleansing between all the folds and around (and yes i know, never inside). as controversial as it is, water is not enough. sorry, argue with yourself.

hydrosilk trimstyle razor is a fav for your bikini area. billie razors are also great.

double shampoo your scalp. you’ll notice a difference. add a scalp massager into the mix!

on hair wash days, don’t forget to also wash/disinfect your hair brushes.

you can make a homemade body scrub with honey + brown sugar. lips too! or just use a exfoliating glove.

change your bedsheets weekly!!!

dry brush your body before stepping into your shower. do a few body lymphatic massages after too with a wooden body massager.

you should be brushing your teeth two times a day. flossing as well. don’t forget to give your tongue a clean. invest in a tongue scraper. and mouthwash! therabreath is my fav brand. teeth whiten every 6 months or so, depending on if needed or not. also replace your tooth brushes/heads often as recommended (every 3-4 months).

moisturize everywhere after every shower/bath. i love to lather with both body oil & lotion. don’t forget the neglected areas such as your hands, feet, elbows, etc.

i’m a two deodorant kind of girl. it’s definitely not necessary to use two, but as someone who loves smelling clean, i use both stick & spray.

as repetitive as it sounds, what you eat plays a major part in your overall scent. make sure you’re fuelling your body with good foods. hydration is also important.

find a signature perfume that suits your skin’s ph level. even better if you find a body lotion of that same scent or similar, enhances the smell! extra tip, spray some on your comb before brushing out your hair.

use safe feminine wipes for bathroom use, rael is a great brand for wipes + pads. even better, use a peri bottle.

something i think a lot of people forget to mention, stay on top of your laundry. attitude laundry detergent is great but any works fine. i also like using baking soda or vinegar to remove any odours, especially for my towels. keep small organza bags with lavender inside your closet/drawers to keep the freshness (i’ve seen people also use scent beads but i don’t use those personally). fold them as soon as they’re dry and put it away to avoid wrinkly clothes. spot treat your stains as soon as possible.

you don’t need to get a manicure all the time. however, do maintain your nails by trimming them often, cuticle oiling and scrubbing underneath nails with a small brush in the shower.

build a skincare routine that works for your skin type. keep it minimal, you don’t need an excessive amount of products. cleanser, exfoliant, serum or moisturizer is more than enough, with the occasional spot treatment & mask. not necessary, but i also like shaving my face with a face razor. definitely not something for everyone, as some do claim it makes them break out! so keep that in mind. gua shua your face for lymphatic drainage and overall skin glow.

keep your home clean. a lot of people don’t realize that you can bring around lingering odours from your home onto you.

also, ladies, pay attention to the men you’re being intimate with. make sure they practice good hygiene themselves (this applies for everyone really!). after intimacy, make sure to clean yourself off well too. your ph will thank you. if you’re concerned that your ph levels are off, speak with your gyno/doctor!

note that these tips aren’t for everyone and to follow with your discretion. 🫶🏻

[flawless-peach]

That Girl Guide

this is in no way me trying to tell you how to live your life. I just thought this would be a fun way to help people explore different ideas and maybe give some inspiration if someone is feeling overwhelmed by the aesthetic. I great way to romanticize your life is to get inspired by a preferred aesthetic.

01. Hygeine

with hygeine it is important to remember just because society says something is necessary doesn't mean it is. This can be things like shaving and teeth whitening.

wash your face at least every night. this is not necessarily referring to a double cleanse with moisturizer, because those can take time to find one's that work and adding in several products at once makes it hard to identify what works and what doesn't. In this case I just mean go in with a gentle soap and wash off any grease and dirt off.

Floss your teeth. This is something that is incredibly important for the long-term health of your teeth. I personally find that I have to use plastic flossers because otherwise I won't floss. Do the best you can where you can.

Brush your teeth. This on is quite obvious, but one thing that is incredibly helpful when you're going through a depressive episode or something is to keep a toothbrush by your bed. In college, when I barely even went to classes, I kept an old plastic water bottle and a toothbrush by my bed, so I would at least brush my teeth 2 a day since I wasn't leaving my bed

Perfume and deodorant regular application of these really elevates your appearance. I personally love syncing these scents. My boyfriend recently bought a nice cologne that goes perfectly with his deodorant, so in the morning the scents aren't trying to compete as much.

02. Hair

this is hard to provide tips on because different hair types need different things so in this case i will just provide some styling tips

Know your hair type. For people who have straight hair, having to find your hair type never occurred to you, at least it didn't for me until I had to help someone learn to take care of their curly hair. But know your porosity and things makes taking care of your hair much much easier.

Split ends only lead to more damage it's better to go ahead and get it trimmed. I am sorry to say this, but cutting your hair at home really is not the move, it is better to just go into your local Great Cuts, or whatever, and just get the $10.00/$15.00 trim. If you absolutely can not get that cut your hair with sharp scissors, best if they are for cutting hair and having someone help you make it even.

A trade mark look of That Girl / Clean girl aesthetics is simple is more so hair styles that have minimal accessories is popular along with slick back looks as they make the hair look well maintained.

Slick back styles are great, especially in a busy week where you haven't had a chance to wash your hair yet. This is very versatile you could pull your hair back into a bun or put it in a ponytail, etc. if you have shorter hair you can slick your part and pull it in to pig tails or leave it pinned behind your ears.

if you have shorter hair styles like the 90s curtain bangs (leaning into the Old Money looks), pairs great with the elegant simple style associated with this aesthetic.

If you want to dress it down and look more casual claw clips and things like that is a great way to keep your hair out of the way while still looking like you put effort into hair even if it was minimal

This is just a side note, mostly for Americans who maybe feel really disconnected from their culture/ancestors look into the way they would style their hair. Theirs will be the most like yours, so they know things you may not, trust your ancestors ^^

03. Makeup

Makeup is in no way a necessity for the It Girl look, but some people like to wear it so I wanted to include it for those people

Look at yourself objectively, see what features you want to HIGHLIGHT, by highlighting your features, it will naturally minimize the ones you want to hide. By doing this, I was able to accept those features a lot more than when I was trying to hide them. I even learned to embrace them and even start catering to those features.

I highly suggest looking at Dear Peachie on Youtube for learning the basics. I found them to be incredibly helpful. They include other things besides makeup but I have only watched their makeup videos so far. It's a great place for beginning to understand the makeup styles that look best on you

In this aesthetic minimal makeup, or "No makeup," makeup is incredibly popular. I don't use foundation most days and instead rely on my blush, eyeliner, and my concealer on the days I wear makeup.

04. Skincare / Bodycare

I've decided to combine these even though a lot won't overlap, but some will.

Exfoliating is great for your skin it unclog pores and helps your largest organ keep you healthy, however exfoliating can also be really harsh I suggestion doing this only once a weak with a natural exfoliation if you have sensitive skin ,i have found that works best for me and my mom, however everyone skin is different so you will need to play around with that. Your face skin is more sensitive, but your body also deserves to be taken care of. Just because it can tolerate it doesn't mean it needs to.

Shaving is entirely optional and not something anyone is required to do. But if that is something you like, always prep your skin, especially though things like exfoliating gloves or something like that to help get ride of the dead skin to get a clean shave to miminimize the chance of ingrown hair and "strawberry legs"

05. Clothes

this is mostly just a list of staples that can be useful for most aesthetics but are incredibly useful for That Girl aesthetics.

plain tees, i suggest at least a black and white. some people may benefit from other colors like brown or beige, but it depends on your lifestyle and preference ^^

plain black slacks. I like mine to be on the softer side but I like the thick pressed ones for more professional interviews and things.

jackets are incredibly useful when dressing up and dressing down depending on the material and style of the jackets. I have an old jacket from my great-grandfather that is worn briwn leather that works well for dressing down business casual to more casual attire. But adding a blazer over a more casual outfit can dress it up.

Jeans are complicated because i am from the south in a very blue collar family, so I think everything goes with jeans. For jeans that fit the That Girl aesthetic, I would suggest looking at jeans with as close to no holes as comfortable. Dear Peachie also has a video over identifying your body type.

[seat-safety-switch]

You might be surprised to hear that every arena of human endeavour has weird perverts who try hard to rattle the cage of normal, hard-working people. For me, it's obviously my vast collection of rattle-trap Malaise Era semi-destroyed vehicles. I've always been interested in meeting freaks in other industries and hearing long diatribes about extreme technical details that I don't really care about, so when my cousin finally retired from his job at the newspaper, I lifted his "Press" pass from his bedroom dresser when he thought I was having a heart attack at Thanksgiving dinner.

Turns out I didn't really need to do that, because my dentist is one of those freaks. One of those accidents of geographic proximity brought him to me, and we became fast friends once we each realized what the other had to offer. Dr. Incisor (not his real name; also potentially not a doctor) had a thing for fixing the absolute worst mouths that he could find. Years of working a boring suburbanite dentist clinic had taken their toll on his sanity: fill this cavity, lecture about flossing, do that root canal. Nothing truly ambitious, not at all like the dentists he would read about as a boy in bicuspid-adventure novels.

His deal was simple: he'd pay me in nitrous oxide, under the table. Finally, I could return to the drag strip and beat my rival, Steve "Nipples" Hemingway, in the eighth-mile with the help of a gaseous power-adder blowing its way through the rings of my exceptionally low-compression Slant Six beneath the dimpled hood of one of my many shitrods. In exchange, he expected me to bring to him what he called "project mouths."

If I could locate the worst teeth in the city, and drag them before him, he wouldn't even charge them for dental work. He would, however, broadcast it on his live Twitch channel, which it turns out violated a whole shitload of medical-privacy laws. I told him from the start that he should have dressed up like a cartoon lion, or at least used an anime girl vtuber, but he insisted that the "cowards of medicine" face him on equal footing as he descended into the molar (and moral) hells I placed before him.

I'll never forget his frenzied, angry screaming as they dragged him off to prison for malpractice. Don't worry, I stayed behind to make sure the clinic nitrous tank was safely discharged. Don't want any firefighters showing up. Those folks can be real freaks when they see a cool oxidizer-involved fire.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

dental hygienist smut based on this post for @wickedlydevious jfnfkfnf 🤍🦷

Steve wouldn’t call it a kink, or even a fetish, because he’s never had an erection while cleaning anyone’s teeth.

So, it was maybe a sort of twisted conditioning that his boyfriend has put upon him.

Because Steve’s had weird sex before. He once fucked a girl who needed to have all of her teddy bears watching, which had been eerily strange and he’d not called her afterwards, but Billy was weird in a sexy kinda way.

Like, whenever his boyfriend felt particularly lazy or even drunk, he’d pepper a kiss to Steve’s neck and cheek and ask in a mumble: “Can you brush my teeth?”

It wasn’t weird to Steve because he did this for a living — he cleaned teeth!! He flossed and scraped and swished people’s mouths in order to afford a living. Seeing as it was how he’d met Billy, the ask wasn’t too weird or out of left field.

So, he complied. He watched Billy sit himself on the counter and close his eyes, almost zone out, as Steve carefully brushed those pearly whites (which Steve was still angry about because Billy was perfect in all ways, which of course included his naturally straight teeth, the bastard).

But, there wasn’t anything sexual about it. He’d tell Billy to spit and his boyfriend would lean to the side to do that into the sink, and Steve would brush again. He’d even get Billy to swish with mouthwash after.

It was like that for the next few occurrences, until one night, when Billy was particularly touchy.

Wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and pulling him in, keeping him close. Playing with Steve’s hair at the nape of his neck, staring into his dark eyes, half-lidded.

And no matter how far Steve put the toothbrush, Billy never gagged.

Steve, as usual, had reached for the mouthwash when Billy stopped him and looked into his eyes, leaned in, until their lips were almost touching, and he’d whispered, “You wanna make a mess outta my mouth now that you’ve cleaned it?”

Dubiously, and maybe dumbly, Steve had asked, “How?”

And Billy, in that low timbre, had replied, “Want you to spit in my mouth before I go down on you," he wet his lips with a little swipe of his tongue, "Want you to cum in my mouth and watch me swallow it…”

And, well.

Cool, minty kisses peppered Steve's lips and neck in the next moment, a hot palm at the front of his sweats, getting him harder and harder as Billy sucked and bit love bites onto his skin. Steve sighed out a moan, pulling Billy off of the counter and watching him kneel, his blue eyes so dark as they peered up at him. It's beautiful how Billy's cheeks flush whenever he's aroused, hot all over as he pulls Steve's sweats down and still staring up at him even as the slick tip prods at his chin and mouth.

Billy's mouth opens, tongue sticking out; expectant.

Steve leans down and does as his boyfriend wants, spitting right onto his tongue and murmuring, "Good boy."

As always, Billy moans and takes Steve into his mouth, his mouth hot and wet and clean as he sucks and licks around the tip of Steve's cock, his eyes fluttering closed as he takes him deeper and deeper, until Steve can feel the flutter of his throat.

"Fuck," he sighs, grabbing onto the counter with both hands as he slowly pushes deeper, watching his boyfriend carefully and feeling warm hands on his hips.

Slowly, together, they fuck Billy's mouth and throat; the soft hums and wet clicks of his boyfriend's throat making his balls draw up tight, stuttering out Billy's name in warning.

He pulls back, just enough for the tip to stay in Billy's mouth, resting against his tongue as he cums, his jaw dropping with a long groan as he watches Billy pull back even further, suckling at the tip of his oversensitive cock until Steve breathes out a laugh and pulls away fully.

"Let me see," he murmurs, staring down at the blond.

Billy opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, covered in white, and Steve spits on it again.

And with a moan, Billy brings his tongue back into his mouth and swallows it, pupils blown wide as he shows Steve it again, pink and clean once more.

With a desperate huff, Steve pulls his boyfriend to his feet and shoves him towards the bedroom.

The next time Billy comes in for a cleaning at the office, Steve has to will away his erection with thoughts of cavities and gingivitis.

[auspicioustidings]

Lost Boys

3. Repenting

Summary: Horangi and Price both investigate the new girl a little more.

The author accepts that this is now going to have to be an OC because this is going to wind up being too many chapters and be too convoluted.

Words: 2.4k

CW: Dubcon bordering on noncon (that cw is going to be on all of this even when the chapter may not feature it)

Look, if they had drugged the food then she would just have to be drugged. It had been years since she had eaten such a decadent meal, the meat tearing beneath her teeth like it was candy floss. The sensation brought with it a flash of something, a memory or a dream. Her teeth sunk into the thick flesh of the throat of some animal, a feral growling in response. Maybe her little food fairies should have left her some bourbon if that was the kind of day she was going to have, dark and twisted in her head. 

She liked the shirt at least, it was merch from a band she quite liked. Had almost gotten to see them live once. Maybe she'd keep it. She would have stayed with just the shirt and underwear on only it meant she kept catching sight of her practically maimed thigh. Much like with her neck, she didn't really remember it happening. Had they drugged her? She tried to figure out how, she hadn't taken anything from them. 

Not much she could do to confirm or disprove anything, so she just pulled on some jeans, shoved sunglasses on and parked her ass out on a lawn chair sat on the crumbling porch, soaking up the sun as if it might cure this not hangover.

"Had fun last night new girl?"

She reluctantly peaked open one eye, lowering the sunglasses to get a look at who was talking to her. This town really was a melting pot she thought, taking in the Korean man with the amused eyes. He had a ragged scar running from his chin up through the right side of his mouth, another set on his left cheek that looked like a claw had been dragged there. That should have been the most notable thing about him, but in her current state the first prize for that went to the set of six packs he was holding. God she could use a drink.

"Turns out it was pretty forgettable actually" she drawled, having expected this kind of comment. Not like she was lying, anytime she tried to remember in detail what happened after cumming her brains out on that motorbike it was like a fog settled thick and heavy over her memories.

The man chuckled, swaggering up onto the porch with the grace of a big cat and sitting on the top step, leaning back on his arms. She considered him for a moment before simply replacing the sunglasses and leaning back to bask again. She could have kissed him when she felt a nudge against her fingers and found he was passing her a beer. When she took it he placed a hand over hers on the bottle and brought it to his mouth, popping the cap with his teeth and looking right at her all the while. Fuck this dude was weird. Everyone here was weird. But as long as he  was content to lounge in the sun and split beers with her she wasn't too bothered. Not like she was particularly normal and it helped that the exchange had given her a pleasant rush of heat deep in her belly.

"König took quite a liking to you, thought he might break right through those chains."

"You work the sideshow?"

"Yes. They call me Horangi, it means tiger."

She looked down at him as he showed off his incisor, dragging his tongue across it. It was sharpened. She could not believe she had not noticed it before, even worse that she hadn't noticed he had something in his eyes. They were yellow.

"Ouch, whatever you did to manage that must have hurt."

"It did."

"Looks cool though."

He grinned and clinked his bottle to hers.

"The giant will at least settle if I can bring him back a name of the little mouse he is so taken with."

She snorted in an unladylike fashion at the idea of being thought of as a little mouse to anyone. The man had seen her for all of 20 seconds, hadn't even spoken to her. She was fairly certain if he saw her here, lounging looking like an absolute bum, drinking beer in the afternoon and internally talking herself out of maybe going for another round with the troublemakers because my God what she remembered had been a sort of absolute feral that had probably awoken something in her, then he would swiftly choose to forget about her existence. 

"My government name is actually a state secret. I worked Coney Island before coming here, they used to call me Preacher," she said wryly. That nickname had stuck to her and never went away after she had lost her temper with a group of people who kept trying to convert all the attraction goers. They had promptly stopped when she had, let's say, converted one of their flock. Honestly he had seemed to thoroughly enjoy the conversion, was praying and everything. 

"That must be a good story."

"Oh it is, but it's classified."

He grinned up at her like a cat, maybe one that was having fun playing with a mouse. He was having fun with her actually. He had never known the 141 to keep one of their meals alive, but he fully understood it now. Corrupting the innocent and then eating them alive lost it's shine after a while, but this girl? Oh she was dancing a delicious line between innocent and corrupted. Tough little thing, she'd not break straight away, they could take their time with her. Take her apart painfully slowly and let her fight against the fear that would inevitably start to consume her. He mused that it may be worth rocking that uneasy alliance their sideshow had with the blood suckers to take her for themselves.

"You should come see the show sometime, we are a lot more interesting than some cowboys."

"Do I get a freebie?"

"Maybe if you help us find God little Preacher we'll be inclined to waive your fee."

She laughed at that. Honestly she was relieved. This place was new, there was no way to tell how the other workers would react to some new ride operator sleeping around with the troublemakers on her first night. Boardwalks were a city unto themselves most of the time. Sideshows, the games, the rides, the beach, the shops, the troublemakers; they were all their own communities that clashed and crossed with one another. Back home it had nearly caused a blood feud when one of the sufers had shacked up with the boy running the shooting game. 

"In that case I'll have you all on your knees repenting in no time."

They sat like that until the sun started to go down and she took off the sunglasses, working their way through beers and amusing themselves with flirty banter inbetween a companionable silence. Luckily she now had more than enough food that she could share snacks throughout the hours. She was pleased she had made a friend. He was pleased he had memorised her laugh so he could think about it later when he fucked his fist. Or maybe he would rile König up enough to do the hard work for him, whisper into his ear that the little mouse was called Preacher and she wasn't the least bit afraid of him yet.

Preacher for her part was relaxed enough that she didn't notice when Horangi tensed, nose twitching, before standing up.

"Better get to work little Preacher, they'll never make as much money without their tiger to scare everyone."

"Thanks for the beer, it was nice to meet you Horangi. I'll be around tomorrow, probably going to try work a day shift."

Her brows furrowed slightly when those yellow eyes of his seemed to catch something in the distance. She couldn't see anything. She was so busy trying to figure out what he was looking at that she was taken fully by surprise when he leaned over her and butted his head against her throat, rubbing against her.

"It was wonderful to meet you too, see you tomorrow."

With that he took off and she was left absolutely flabbergasted and feeling very much like Ghost had been justified calling her a slut from the way her body had reacted to it. 

--

John Price thought himself a patient creature, truly he had to be to keep his little band of animals together. He knew from the moment the girl had put a hand on him that she was theirs. They needed a plaything, some little pet to dote on. Kyle had told him that when Simon and Soap had returned to the den near morning, the former quietly satisfied and the latter loudly excited, they had said they had left her alive and put her to bed. The three of them wanted to go to her again, he had told them no. They needed to back off, let her simmer a little, let him burrow under her skin as someone she could trust before they really started terrorising her. He would start now, stumble across her home while out walking Riley and strike up a conversation. Act the part of the concerned older man at the state she was no doubt in.

He considered setting fire to that plan when he watched the shifter drag his scent across her neck, taunting him with a claim against her. Perhaps he had been letting the sideshow get away with too much recently for the tiger to be this brazen. Maybe if he threw the girl down and fucked her right now on that porch it would hammer home the point that she was theirs. If it had been any of the others they would have done it as well, not as experienced with control as he was. 

--

"Hi boy! Who's the prettiest dog in the world? Is it you? Oh yes it is, it is you isn't it" she cooed, lavishing pets and scritches on the German Shepard that had bounded onto to porch. 

What a day she was having, full of good food, tipsy and now a visit from a dog to boot? Ten out of ten if she was honest, the sleepiness she had been feeling all day only making her feel soft and fuzzy around the edges now. She caught sight of boots coming onto the porch and looked up to find the man from the video store looking at her with a very cute nervous smile. 

"Sorry about Riley here, he doesn't usually go running off like that. Seems he likes you."

"Oh no worries at all sir, he is more than welcome to run off to me anytime" she replied, cooing at the pup before standing up properly. "It was Mr Price right?"

Sir, now Sir he could work with. It sounded fantastic spilling off of her tongue.

"John is fine sweetheart."

Sweetheart, now sweetheart she could work with. Getting this handsome man on side would only be beneficial for her in the long run, she bet he was influential with the other shop owners.

Price had been hoping for a pretty little blush from her at the endearment, pushing a little when he didn't get it. 

"What happened to your neck? It looks sore" he said, a picture of concern as he reached a hand over to brush his thumb gently over the larger of the marks. Soap if he had to guess for that one, it was messily done. When he eventually took her, when she got to the point of begging him to, he would bite into that delicate flesh with much more finesse. He didn't need to mark her up or rub his scent against her, his claim on her would be her own desperation to please him. 

"Ah right, my neck" she sighed, probably a little too tipsy to be having this conversation with this well to do probably very conservative gentleman. "To be honest with you, it's just bad taste in men John."

There wasn't a lie she could think of that wouldn't sound like one, so she opted to just tell the truth of things in as tame a manner as she could and hope that he wasn't about to start lecturing her on pre-marital sex being a sin. It would be a shame if he turned out to be like that, she got decent vibes from him. Protective, kind.

Still no pretty little blush. Arrogant thing wasn't she, admitting what she had been doing the night before to him without any shame. It made his blood run hot, thinking of all the ways he could get her there, how hard he would have to push to have her flushed and ashamed. He lost himself in the thought for a moment, only realising when she gave the faintest whimper at his thumb now pressing into the bruise. That little noise of pain and the way her eyes went liquid staring up at him had him hard. Control John, control. 

"They treat you like that again you come find me sweetheart, I'll fix you up. Been told I give a mean massage" he said, swiping his thumb past the bruise again before taking his hand away.

Oh God this absolute dilf was flirting with her. He was offering her a future massage. If Preacher was connected to any sort of God she thought They must be a very good one to send her this absolute treat. Come on, get it together girl, no soaking through your underwear over a bloody thumb brushing against a bruise. What was wrong with her today? She wasn't usually this restless.

Price knew she was going to be fighting against the residual venom in her system from the way she was reacting to him. He'd have to remind Simon and Soap to properly fuck that out of her next time, make sure she wasn't still feeling that extra little bit pliant that had her allowing someone who didn't own her rubbing their scent up against her. He shouldn't fault them really, they weren't used to keeping someone around after feeding from them and by the way she wobbled a bit they had certainly given it their best effort.

"Noted, although I'm not sure I intend for there to be a next time."

"Atta girl. C'mon Riley, I'm sure Miss...?"

"Oh, I just go by Preacher."

"I'm sure Miss Preacher will visit the shop again soon."

It was only when she tasted blood that she realised she was biting her lip hard watching him go. My God she needed a very cold shower and at this point possibly a fucking muzzle.  

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 26, 2021 5:00 a.m. paradise hotel

[henry] hello! good morning, sunshine.

[grant] did i wake you up?

[henry] i was already up. and yes, i know my eyes are closed. it's just so i can go back to sleep at some point.

[henry] anyway, i dreamed about a hockey stick knocking out my teeth, which woke me up, and then remembered i have a dentist appointment in a couple weeks, so i decided i should floss my teeth all of a sudden to impress them.

[grant] they’ll still know you haven’t been doing it!

[henry] lalalalalalala, i am refusing to listen and learn.

[henry] so, how was it with cool shoes singer girl?

[grant] oh yeah, it was nice.

[grant] did you intend for that to happen?

[henry] nope. i didn’t care what you did. i just didn’t want you to not speak to her and restrict yourself because of some weird internal logic or because i was there.

[henry] if you can talk to someone because they seem interesting, you can flirt with someone for the same reason.

[grant] she is was cool. super interesting person. and, uh, i never like to comment on these things because it seems wrong and entirely disrespectful, but she is beautiful.

[grant] now i feel kind of like an idiot for not even trying to get her number, but also…

[henry] man, it’s not a huge deal. this is a thing most people do, flirting for fun. it doesn’t always have to be, “i won’t speak to you unless you’re prepared to marry me in two years.”

[henry] okay, i'm the wrong person to tell you that because that’s what happened with soobin, but trust me, most people are not as serious about flirting! flings are a thing.

[henry] and seriously, it’s not like you led her on. you didn’t fulfill your fear. she initiated things, so she could have followed through if she wanted to.

[grant] that, yeah. i got the feeling she wanted to follow through somehow, but she seemed really nervous, i guess, when the opportunity came up.

[henry] oh, at the end?

[grant] yeah. i don't think she knew what to say. i definitely didn't either. i was a little paralyzed.

[grant] i was thinking in the moment, like, it would be very irresponsible for me to do anything beyond flirt with someone, no matter how strong that desire to not be alone long-term is.

[grant] you know what i mean? there are probably very specific things i'm doing that get me into messy relationships or ones doomed to fail, and i haven’t even gotten there in therapy. i don’t want to subject anyone else to whatever those issues are.

[grant] but i didn't know how to let her down because i knew she was waiting for me to do something or say something, and then i felt bad about the idea of letting her down because i did like her and she genuinely seemed like a nice person.

[grant] and i wasn't expecting either of us to...fuck, man, i don't know, like each other so much. so, i didn't have a whole ending speech planned or anything. i seriously thought we'd just have a coffee or something and then part ways.

[grant] ugh. this is why i don't do casual things. it's too much. i never understand how to deal with all the feelings. i'm not super sure i'm securely attached enough to flirt casually, you know?

[grant] but she really was...

[grant] anyway! alright, well, we have an hour left to sleep, so.

[henry] night night.

[grant] ugh, i don’t want to get up.

[grant] my back hurts and in the lie down way, not the walk around and kind of sort of briefly fix it way.

[henry] don’t even think about sleeping within 13.75 inches of me.

[grant] okay, commencing movement to within 13.74 inches of you.

[henry] no, you can sleep here. i don’t mind.

[old-school-butch]

Great news anon.

It sounds like you're in luck, I'm glad that worked out for you.

Now, you must protect your happiness with some basic risk management - that's the 'hope for the best but plan for the worst' kind of thinking about common issues. Statistically, here's some thoughts of possible dangers and how to minimize them:

Prepare for parental freakout. Keep a bug-out bag with clothes, id, a new phone, a list of resources you might need and some spare cash either on hand or nearby (maybe with a friend or other safe place) in case you need to make a run for it. Yeah, I'm paranoid, and tbh throwing money at everything often isn't necessary, but there are a few situations in life where a problem can go away by applying a surprisingly reasonable amount of cash to it. It's time to protect your happiness against this potential. I'd suggest getting your shit together so you have several months worth of living expenses stashed away where you can access it in an emergency. I highly suggest taking up camping - it can come in handy if you're forced out and if not, you can still use those skills to dance in the woods in Michigan someday.

Do you know any gay guys? It's possible you and your best friend might take to double dating. Yeah, it's old school but it works. People will see what they expect to see, more so even than what they want to see. This is a valuable tool to use to misdirect people.

All things are innocent to the innocent. Playing dumb has worked for centuries.

This will probably involve lying for a while, but honesty is a luxury few women, and even fewer lesbians, can afford. Be careful who you tell, they will hold power over you. You can clear the air when you can stand on your own. In the meantime, keep it simple and don't feel guilty. Remember, the only battles you want to be in are battles you can win. If you can't win a fight, pick a different battlefield.

Brush and floss your teeth every day. Eat a healthy diet, maintain a healthy weight, avoid smoking and drugs. Focus your energy on your future and protect your health - its a huge asset at your age and sickness will limit your independence and your ability to save money. Also, accidents and suicide are big risks at your age - learn to take care of yourself so you can achieve independence quickly, without taking unnecessary risks of course.

Make plans for your future, for you and your girl. My general rule is that it's possible to endure almost any situation for 2-3 years, beyond that it's increasingly likely you will stumble and the plan will crumble. Planning is key to writing your future so prepare some scenarios you can prepare for or avoid, and some dreams you want to chase.

Good luck anon. Your future is not yet written, but I wish you smooth sailing.

[magicpeachh01]

Hygiene tips for girls | I wish I knew earlier

Good hygiene can help you feel better and look nicer. It's okay if you don't know where to start, or if you need help dealing with changes your body is going through. Many young people go through this! Having great hygiene is as easy as staying clean, having good daily habits, and practicing a cleanly beauty routine.

METHODS

1:-Staying Clean

2:-Practicing Good Grooming

3:- Keeping a Hygienic Beauty Routine

METHODS:-STAYING CLEAN

1-Shower or bathe every day. Bacteria feed on the sweat and skin cells that accumulate on your body throughout the day – that's what causes body odor. Shower or bathe every day and use a mild soap to wash off the day's dirt.Especially wash and carefully dry your feet, face, hands, armpits, and bottom.

2-Shampoo and condition your hair. Shampoo your hair 2-3 times a week. Washing your hair too often removes the natural oil and can make your hair dry. Choose shampoo and conditioner that's right for you – whether your hair is dry, oily, frizzy, straight, or curly, there are many products that you can try.

3-Wash your face twice a day. Use warm water and a gentle, non-abrasive cleanser to wash your face in the morning and before bed. Use just your fingertips to massage the cleanser onto your skin – using a washcloth or sponge can be irritating. Don't scrub your skin hard. Rinse with warm water, and pat (don't rub) your skin dry with a clean towel.

4-Wear clean clothes. You don't necessarily have to wash your clothes every time you wear them, but always wear clothes without stains, wrinkles, and smells on them. If you get your clothes dirty or sweat in them, wash them before wearing them again. Wear fresh underwear and a fresh bra every day. Change socks as needed for comfort and to avoid bad smells. This may be more than daily, or it might be less if you only wore them for a few hours around the house without shoes

5-Wash your hands often. You should wash your hands regularly throughout the day, but especially after using the bathroom, after sneezing or coughing, before making or touching food, and after touching things that lots of other people have touched (for example, after handling money – think about how many people touch money!)

6-Carry small products around with you. Make a mini-hygiene kit to keep in your purse or backpack. Bring a packet of breath mints, gum, or a small bottle of mouthwash for after meals. Pack a small travel mirror, hand sanitizer, deodorant, tissues, menstrual products, and a small comb for everyday use.

7-Have good illness hygiene. If you're sick, it's important to practice good hygiene to protect others. Cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze. Wash your hands a lot, especially after coughing or sneezing. If you're vomiting or have a fever, stay home and away from others

METHODS:-PRACTCING GOOD GROOMING

1-Use deodorant daily. It's normal to have body odor, especially under your arms. Your armpits naturally sweat more once you go through puberty, and underarm hair can trap sweat and bacteria. Wear deodorant every day to feel and smell fresh. There are lots of different kinds of deodorant – roll-on, spray, stick, and those with or without antiperspirant (decreases sweating as well as covers odor). Some are perfumed and others are unscented. It's up to you which kind to choose.

2-Shave, if you want to. Whether you want to shave your legs, underarms, and private area is completely up to you. Long hair in your armpits and groin might trap moisture and odors, but showering regularly and keeping the area clean and dry should solve that. If you do shave, do it safely and hygienically.

3-Have good dental hygiene. Brush your teeth, floss, and use mouthwash at least twice a day – after breakfast and before bed. This decreases tooth decay, gum disease, and bad breath. Try to use toothpaste or mouthwash with fluoride. If you have braces or aligners, you may want to brush after every meal.

4-Clean your retainer or aligner well. Yeast and bacteria can live on your appliance or appliance case if you don't clean it well. Brush your appliance case every time you brush your teeth, and disinfect it once a week.

5-Keep your contact lenses clean. If you wear contact lenses, it's important to keep them as clean as possible to prevent eye infections. Don't just rinse them with tap water and reuse them, or reuse the same contact solution day after day – this is setting you up to put bacteria in your eye! Rinse your contacts well every time you take them out, clean your contact case thoroughly, and use fresh contact solution. Be sure to replace your contact case regularly, about every 3 months.

6-Don't share personal items. It's nice to share, but not when it comes to things like your toothbrush, razor blade, or hairbrush. Keep your personal hygiene items to yourself, and don't use other people's personal items. Also, keep your own towels and washcloths

METHODS:-KEEPINH HYGIENIC BEAUTY ROUTINE

1-Treat your acne. If you get pimples, use a gentle, non-abrasive, and alcohol-free acne treatment. Don't vigorously scrub your skin when you wash your face, because this takes away the natural oils and can make your skin dry, flaky, and can even cause more acne.Try to treat your acne naturally, or talk to your doctor about products you can use.

2-Don't overdo your makeup. If you feel self-conscious about your skin you might be tempted to go heavy on your makeup. However, wearing too much makeup can make your skin dry or oily and cause breakouts. Only apply light layers of foundation and use makeup minimally for a natural, healthy look.

3-Care for your nails. Keep your finger and toenails trimmed and free of jagged edges. Clean underneath your nails when you wash your hands (and feet), and use an under nail scraper to get dirt out from under your nails if you need to.Use sharp clippers or small manicure scissors to cut straight across your nail, and round out the corners in a gentle curve with a nail file. Use hand lotion on your nails and cuticles.

4-Wear some nice perfume, but not too much. If you want to wear perfume or body spray, go for it! Just avoid wearing too much. This can be overpowering and unpleasant to some people. Spray your perfume two to three times in front of you and then walk through it – this will give you a nice smell without being overpowering.

Thanks For Reading <3

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[city-of-spooks]

The Modern Prometrium

A short story about The Change.

You’ve not known tiredness like it. Sure, there was the time Alice had croup - back in ‘94, was it? - but that was when life felt like something to be dominated. Challenged. Wrestled back in its cage for precious order… and you were ever so good at it. So good that when Nanna Eileen had her fall, the first one at least, you’d shrugged off the baby-tired and took to your new shape as mother, do-er, giver, other like a duck to water. You’d even laughed that the hours previously spent sleeping felt wasteful.

It was all go from there. Hospital and paperwork and navigating the bickering over ‘what makes a residential home the right one?’ - even though Nanna would have rather gone for a long walk off a short cliff than suffer one of those places. “I’m not an old fogey, Janine”, she’d said, chewing the syllables through thin lips. “I’ll be damned if you start treating me like one.”

In the end it didn’t matter. She’d slipped again, all within a week of setting foot back home. Part of you always wondered if it was on purpose, a movie-starlet’s faint at the top of the stairs, but in the grand scheme of things, that didn’t matter either. There were no more trips to the hospital. Instead, they bloated into long, labored nights spent consoling the girls about the finality of death, nodding sagely as they hiccuped about her not looking right, asking why her mouth looked funny and what’s going to happen to you, Momma - an emotional gamut that required a delicate touch you weren’t quite sure you could deliver on such little brain power. But sleep-starved, staunching tears and, to your silent horror, shooing away imaginary phantoms of Nanna in the closet, the girls finally came to understand the ‘why’ of these things.

(You made sure to tell Mark that the bullshit about Fluffy ‘running’ away - and not, in fact, meeting the wrong end of a moving truck - did come back to bite you in the ass.) But it did not bring back the missed sleep.

Now, the tiredness doesn’t buzz. It holds none of the electricity harbored in youth. What was once adrenaline-fuelled and coffee-flavored has turned translucent, sinking into the bones with all the potency - and indifference - of carbon-monoxide poisoning. Slowly, then all at once. It’s weariness on a cellular level. An ache in the spine that doesn’t seem to go away, even with mindful Pilates. Bleeding from the gum line, despite a stringent flossing routine. Stubborn flaking from the nail beds, which refuses to bend to layer after layer of glycerine hand cream, the kind you get from the specialist counter at the pharmacist.

Of course, tired is fine. Your mother was tired. So was her mother before her. And so on and so forth, all the way back to the first women to sling their babies round their necks and go wading through the underbrush. Tired is in your nature.

But this isn’t just tired. It’s exhaustion that soaks the mind - brain fog, they call it - reducing any sane thought to a litany of questions without punctuation: where is that shoe, who is that man, what is that key for, until you sit on the floor of your bathroom and scream into the fresh towels. Sleep would be a comfort. But it never comes.

There’s the night sweats. Great hot flashes from toe to tooth, coming on thick and fast and entirely without warning. You’d spent many an evening trying to perfect lobster bisque (back in the early days of marriage, when business was brought home and bosses were wined and dined ahead of holiday bonuses) - and figured that this was some kind of divine retribution. The sweats broiled and curdled at all hours of the day, but especially thickened at night, waiting to sink its teeth into any semblance of rest.

Night is marked by the hours ticking by. Painfully dripping into nothingness, great annals of time are spent listening to Mark’s same-old droning snore, the splutter-cough of the AC unit, and the whining of the neighbor’s dog spliced over their late-night TV: spate-yip-in-yip-yup-the-area-yip-yip-advice-yip-yip-lock - until they yell at it to be quiet again. You had wanted to call the humane society but no, Mark hates conflict, so the miserable thing stays chained up within its run all night long.

God, the noise. After all these years, you’re still attuned to the slightest sound: a baby’s cry, a gurgle, the suggestion of breath - but now it feels unbearable. Mark’s snoring has taken on a rattle as he creeps out of middling age. A phlegmy quality that might have once been the roar of a motorcycle at 1AM, sneaking out for a late-night tryst and some over-the-clothes excitement - but now signals the looming likelihood of a CPAP machine.

As for the girls, they moved out years ago. Charlotte has little ones of her own, and Alice is busy finding herself in Guatemala or Chile or some other place where they wear long skirts and don’t have proper shoes. You’d said to her on the landline: don’t go about like one of those hippies or you’ll end up with unsightly callouses, but she’d laughed you off, saying that there were more important things to worry about, Ma.

But you know how easily callouses can form. Seemingly overnight if you’re not careful, and they’re tough, ugly things, large and puffy; right on the fleshy plantar of the sole that no amount of Johnson’s Smoothing Ointment can save. You’ve even taken to wearing socks to bed but sometime in the night they are lost to the sweats, half-shredded in fury. It’s unsightly. Disgusting, but you suppose it could be dignified in its own way.

Your mother had said that aging is a gift, not a given, but if you could go back and wring her sanctimonious turkey neck one last time, you’d do it in a heartbeat. How can you stand it? You’d scream, spittle flying. When the blood and puke and shitty diapers weren’t enough, when house was finally cleared of offspring and their dull mates had been sent on their way, and the den was our own again - man cave be damned - there’s this? What even is this?! Isn’t it supposed to be my time? Is this not the reward??

The reward is, in fact, lingering in the sink. Large strands of copper hair, peppered with gray, making loop-de-loops around the drain. Then there are smaller, more bristly offcuts that keep getting caught in the food trap, creating a thatch that floods and recedes like the swell of the tide.

The first time it happened, you thought it spelled the end.

“Cancer?” The doctor had laughed, leaning back in his chair with a loud, uncomfortable creak. Although there was no sign of lunch, the smell of something salted, like corned beef, permeated from his side of the room. “Oh no. No, no, no, Mrs Housman. Nothing quite so bad. Rather, this sounds like textbook menopause to me. It was bound to come knocking sooner or later.”

The butter-yellow packet of Prometrium eyes you suspiciously from the counter. It’s micronized progesterone, to help with the onslaught of symptoms like poor bone density and vaginal dryness. Although the box is open, the protective foil is still untouched and shines beautifully in the morning light.

The kitchen is a suntrap, just as warm as it had been on moving day back in ‘87, with a large window that looks out onto the garden. At one point, you’d discreetly tracked ovulation cycles and periods on the calendar pinned to the side of the refrigerator, in the days when Charlotte and Alice could have been David and Morgan, or no one at all - alongside the dates held aside for scarce dinners and the burden of visiting relatives.

Many moons have passed since, but the joy of watching the birds dip in and out of the hedgerow shared with the neighbors hasn’t waned. The only thing out of place is the bird feeder, which still sits precariously after their dog went for a group of young sparrows and decimated them in one bloodied gulp. Luckily the girls were teens by that point, armed with a full understanding of death and its permanence - but the grisly event was enough to put the dog on a chain and any bird-related ephemera well out of range.

At this time in the morning, the terrier usually lounges at the edge of the border. It has a name that escapes you - a generic eyeroll of a moniker, like Sammy or Ted - which isn’t helped by the fact the animal is nowhere to be seen. The chain is also gone.

You pull the hair from the trap and put it into composting. The rest that’s lodged in the disposal will have to go at the bottom of the general waste, along with the chicken carcass from Monday, which stretched to make pot pie, pasta and finally, soup. It’s easier to cook for just two these days.

As you open your hand, the pit-pit-pit of small bones hit the side of the garbage bag and join their brethren, being laid to rest beside the remnants of six rib-eye steaks, a large ham bone and the xylophone-esque shape that once belonged to a sturdy rack of lamb. Together, their components create a chimera knitted from bovine, ovine, porcine and something in-between.

You turn on the radio just as another bulletin starts up, reeling off the usual bad news. Corrupt politicians, rising bills, celebrity scandals, local jogger missing, new charity drive, pet killings. It’s grim, but makes excellent cover for when the garbage disposal whirrs to life, its shining teeth hidden at the base of a long, guzzling throat.

You grow sick of the headlines and twist over to a commercial station, and Stevie Nicks warbles about being 'fraid of changin'. The past fifty six years slink around your shoulders like a mantle, and your mind’s eye can track every scar and scratch, bite and birthmark like a well-walked trail. There’s only one that’s unaccounted for: a deep crescent of puckering flesh that curves from breast to belly, almost meeting the C-section scar from Alice all those years ago. High transverse, breech birth, so much blood.

The disposal is still going, and there’s a moment where you consider shoving your hand deep into the sink. You can almost feel the imagined crunch of muscle and sinew, which delights the deep, dark something lodged between the fourth and fifth rib. It ripples at the thought of flesh made meat.

Instead, the pills are snatched from the counter and unceremoniously dumped into the sink’s gaping maw. The whine of the mechanism sounds much more labored than usual, but you’re too far gone to care. Even with the tiredness, the unbearable sweats, and finding hair in places that don’t bear repeating, these past few mornings have left you feeling strangely sated. Full. Bright-eyed and bushy tailed, even. Maybe the change suits you. Maybe it’s what you’ve been waiting for.

Tha-thunk! The sink chokes, gears fighting - and losing - against an unseen blockage. The safety mechanism has sprung, meaning that something is well and truly stuck, and you flick the power off at the mains: just in case. You reach down into the belly of the disposal, and are reminded of fishing rocks out of the mouth of the stupid, soft dog from your childhood.

But you don’t find a stick. You don’t even find a bone. When you finally pull your hand out of the depths of the plumbing, delicately held between thumb and forefinger is a small, silvery disc. Although it’s fairly scratched up from the disposal, its surface still shines with all the brightness of the October morning: one of the coolest and crispest so far, with the smooth parts reflecting the orange and browns of the season.

But something else catches your eye. There, stamped into its cool face are the words: ‘JACK. IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL-’

[fieldofdaisiies]

Ultima Ex Nobis | ch. VIII

-all rights reserved-

Nessian AU word count: ~2,1k words warnings: blood, injury summary: Six years into a global pandemic which was caused by a mass fungal infection that turns hosts into zombie-like creatures and makes the whole of Prythian collapse, the former army general Cassian Cadell is tasked with one very special mission – escorting Nesta Archeron, one of the few immune survivors, across a post-apocalyptic Prythian to a group of people of the name L. Their identity  is unknown but they can make an antidote.

masterlist

“El, I told you you don’t have to join me!” Elain stomps an angry foot into the ground and groans. “And I said I don’t want you to go alone,” she says matter-of-factly. Pebbles crunch underneath her feet when she walks closer to her sister and links her arm with hers. Nearby an owl howls, cooing a little but when the animal hears Nesta and Elain it flaps its proud wings and takes off into the cool night.

“This is all Feyre’s fault,” Nesta bites out, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. It is not Feyre’s fault, but right now Nesta is so angry at her sister’s bravery, her recklessness, that she just has to blame it on her. For the past hours Nesta has been worried sick, lying awake in bed, twisting and turning until she couldn’t stand it anymore. How damn silly is it for a sixteen year old to go out alone in the middle of the night! Nesta lowly curses her younger sister’s bravery under her breath.

Obviously their father didn’t notice, being too occupied bathing in his own pity. And their mother…well, their mother died when Nesta was not even ten years old. A deadly disease has robbed Nesta, Feyre and Elain of their mother way too early. And now that the youngest and most reckless Archeron sister is all alone out there in the woods, Nesta knows she has to intervene — she is not going to lose another family member, otherwise she will go insane. Nesta sucks in a sharp breath that burns in her lungs. She clamps down on the fear, on the panic, blinking her eyes rapidly to get rid of the dampness.

“It is a calm night,” Elain whispers in a low voice, pulling her pink hat further into her face. 

“Sshh, we don’t want to attract attention. We don’t know what is lurking behind those old trees.” Nesta gives Elain a sidelong glance. Sweet and pure Elain shouldn’t be out here. But just like Nesta, Elain couldn’t sleep. Her reason a little different than Nesta’s but still she has been awake the whole night and has also been terribly worried about Feyre since Nesta told her.

“Infected?” Elain questions lowly, accidentally stepping onto a branch that cracks underneath her boot. She cringes and whispers and apology. “Yes, infected,” Nesta hisses and pulls her sister closer, hoping to shield her…well, from whatever is lurking behind those old trees. Hopefully no infected though. “We are in the sticks, Nessi, I doubt the infected get here.”

“Please be calm, Elain!” Her younger sister grimaces at Nesta and slowly inclines her head. And so they continue on, stalking through the dark woods, their breaths visible in front of their faces. Elain shudders, her teeth chattering, when she embraces Nesta’s arm tighter. 

“When this is all over—“ “Elain!” Nesta warns and harshly pulls on her arm. She wants to whisper another reprimand when her eyes suddenly land on a light source in the distance. Nesta’s mouth gapes. 

A Carousel. Her lips part slightly when Nesta’s eyes widen, memories of her and her sister riding on the little horses or in the small vehicles fill her brain. Oh, how happy they were. Their parents were standing next to the carousel, recording the three young girls who had the biggest grins on their faces, having just eaten some candy floss before the ride. The happy, joyful music rings in Nesta's ears when they near the brightly lit carousel and Nesta thinks this has to be a trap. But at the same time…what kind of trap would that be?

Maybe they simple haven’t cut the electricity here and it still works, just no longer has any visitors. Nesta inhales a deep breath, glancing at her younger sister whose eyes are trained on the merry-go-round.

“Should we go nearer?” Nesta asks, and Elain pulls up a shoulder, shrugging. Her expression is tight, controlled, while inside she is yearning, longing for the normality they once had. Nesta can see her sister’s hesitation, it is etched into Elain’s features, but she can also see the slight glint of anticipation sparking in her eyes. 

But then— Everything happens so fast after this, so suddenly, so overwhelmingly.

A man, she later learns a Runner, dashes out from behind the carousel. At this stage, just shortly after being turned, the infected are clumsy, but fast. Their skin is mottled and pale, covered in lesions, their hair having begun to thin. The man staggers forward, screeching, and heads right for the two sisters. 

Panic collides with shock inside of Nesta. “RUN!” she shouts, but it is too late. The man practically leaps forward – he is incredibly fast and agile, although he barely sees anything. The eyes are the first thing that Cordyceps virus attacks after the brain. The man comes straight for Elain who screams, but is rooted to the ground. Nesta pulls on her arm, pulling her with her, making her move. They run, or rather stumble through the forest, cold air dashing in and out of their lungs, burning in their throat. Elain is weeping, Nesta clamping down on her emotions — she cannot let her panic reach the surface, she cannot show weakness, she cannot cry. She pushes her feet harder into the ground, just when a damp, cold hand curls around her wrist and she is snatched backwards. Nesta screams and wiggles, trashes her arm around. Nesta can get free, but no for long. 

All and anything on her mind is to keep Elain safe. So that is what she does. They are at the top of a slope. Nesta pulls her hand out of Elain’s hold who turns back at her with a shocked expression. Nesta can practically see the colour drain from her younger sister's face. Elain knows what her older sister is about to do.  

“Nes—“ And with that Nesta pushes her younger sister, shoving her down the slope. Elain hasn’t been prepared, she tumbles, falls backwards, rolling downwards the slope until the darkness swallows her and all that is left after her silent sobs that soon become a whisper in the darkness. “Take care, little Elain.” 

Tears roll out of Nesta's eyes when she is pressed against a body and just a moment later comes face to face with the ground. Sharp pain erupts in her left lower arm and she screams out in pain. Her visions blurs, blood rushes in her ears. The teeth of the man—

Nesta snaps awake, sucking in a sharp breath, her whole body pulsing, shuddering. She is bathed in sweat and her face is pressed against something solid and warm. Through a dry throat she releases a loud scream that is soon drowned out by a warm palm. “Nesta.” 

Cassian. He is so close. She can feel his lips on her ear, his hot breath on her skin. She brings a hand up, fisting the fabric underneath her. She claws at it, holding on tightly.

“Everything hurts,” Nesta cries out and tries to lift her head but it is too heavy. The air feels too thich to breathe in, she feels like she is getting suffocated. 

Cassian feels her sweaty body on his, she is soaked, her skin burning hot. Blood has drenched the bandage around her centre, her arm seems to be fine. 

“Az!” Cassian shouts, panic ringing in his voice. Azriel appears a moment later, he peaks over the edges of the back of the truck, his eyes wide. “We need to travel on. We cannot stay here. She is dying.”

He can barely speak the words, it feels like the burn in his throat like a fire. Cassian carefully lifts Nesta up, into his arms and gets up. 

“We have to travel on by foot.” 

Azriel hesitates. If they leave the truck behind, they would have to leave many things behind. They cannot carry everything. Cassian can see how the engines work in Azriel’s brain and flashes his brother a pleading look. His chest is heaving with deep inhales, panic blooming in his chest. Nesta is so limp in his arms, so lifeless. 

“Az.”

The former government spy slowly bows his head, heading for the front of the truck, probably grabbing his essentials. In the end both of them wear a backpack and Cassian carries Nesta.

“But what is the plan, Cass?” Azriel asks, his voice cold, empty of hope. “We are in the sticks, far away from any medical care. What are we hoping to find?”

“Maybe we find something. And old pharmacy. Anything?” Cassian suggests, his tone hopeful despite the misery they are in. Azriel does not answer, not wanting to crush his brother's hopes. 

And so they set out, walking back to the street they have come from, Azriel always keeping one hand on his gun. Nesta is slack in Cassian’s arms, still burning hot. She buries her head in his chest, mumbling some incomprehensible nothings.

“You really like her.” A statement, not a question.

But Cassian has no answer for his brother. Yes, he likes her. But it is weird. He has only known her for such a short amount of time and has hated her at the beginning. Now, no longer. But he does not really like like her. Not like he likes other people, not like he likes Az or Rhys. He likes her…like his heart flutters when she smiles…the few times she has done so. He likes her voice. He likes how she assesses things. How she focuses on small details. He likes hearing her opinion. He also likes her eyes, how blue they are. They remind him of the ocean, of a wonderful summer breeze. He also likes her body — she has a beautiful body. 

Nesta shudders against him and just a moment later Azriel shrugs out of his jacket and places it over her shivering figure. “Thank you,” Cassian whispers and smiles a little at his brother. 

The sun slowly appears on the horizon, but thick, grey clouds hang in the sky so the light is rather dim. Cassian is incredibly thankful for his brother - that he agreed to join without objection, without a discussion. He knows he can count on Azriel, just like Azriel can always count on him. 

“Where are we going?” Nesta’s lips part a little when she glances up at Cassian through heavy lidded eyes. She can only make out his features through a blurry vision — her eyes feel thick and swollen, her face puffy. Her eyes burn but she does not want to look away, she wants her eyes to focus, she wants to see Cassian. She likes seeing Cassian although she dislikes him. Or that is what she tells herself. 

“We are getting you help, Nes.”

“Nesta,” she whispers and Cassian has to chuckle a little. 

“Even half-dead you manage to keep that sharp mouth of yours, huh?” Cassian drawls, his heart somehow warming when the corner of her mouth lifts just the tiniest bit. “Where is the help?”

Cassian’s throat works on a swallow. Her voice sounds so fragile, so weak, yet so hopeful. She has trust in them, in him. She trusts them that they will find help for her. He cannot tell her that they are just heading somewhere, hoping to find something that can help her. But they have no fix target, they just hope that they will find something on the way. 

“We are close, Nes.” 

Azriel gives his brother a long look — although his face is stoic, Azriel’s eyes speak volumes. You are in deep, brother, is what he wants to say, but does not speak out loud. 

Azriel can read him so well. Just as well as Cassian can read his brother. He knows how much Eris’ absence is gnawing on him, how much it pains him, how much his brother worries about his lover, how often he tries to track him, to get his signal. 

The road stretching out in front of them seems endless — it is just straight and at the moment leads into nothing but darkness. A soft breeze fills the air around them, smelling of dry soil and wheat. Cassian adjusts Nesta a little, making sure to not hurt her, but she still winces and he whispers a low apology. He cranes his neck, his shoulders and back aching. His arms feel heavy from carrying her, his muscles now a little sore. 

Cassian narrows his eyes at the distance before looking over at Az, whose gaze is trained on a small map in his hand. “So when we take the next—“ Flashlights appear all of a sudden, too bright, too overwhelming, too close. The car has appeared out of nowhere, heading right for them at high speed. Azriel and Cassian give each other one look before they start running, leaving the paved road and heading for the grass next to it. They are fast, but deep inside they both know that with Cassian carrying Nesta they can never escape who is behind them. 

~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @helhjertet @moonlightazriel@aayo-whatt@crushedcloudsx @brekkershadowsinger@girasoli-e-sorrisi @ignite-me@swifti-ed@cassiansbigwingspan@burningsnowleopard@headcanonheadcase @a-frog-with-a-laptop @banasheefan56

[workingforitallthetime]

well this sure is 1.5K of f/f gavin/seamus, isn't it

-

“That girl was flirting with you.” Gavin flops backwards onto her bed.

“Who?” Seamus is at the mirror scrubbing a wipe along the line of her eyelid. She folds the cloth over, looking for a clean spot between streaks of the eyeshadow that made her eyes look even bigger and darker and sadder than usual.

“The lacrosse one.” Long blonde hair, longer legs. Taller than Seamus. Or Gavin.

“She wasn’t flirting with me.” Seamus tosses her makeup wipe toward the trash can. “She’s one of the ones who saran-wrapped Kienan’s moped.”

“She held your hair back at the water fountain.” In the dorm lobby, completely unprompted, as everyone filtered in from a Saturday of parties and meandered their way toward the elevators. “She was absolutely flirting with you.”

Seamus squirts toner onto a cotton pad. “You’ve held my hair back.”

“While you were puking,” Gavin protests.

Seamus gestures like Gavin’s just proved her point, but it’s not the same thing. Holding your friend’s hair back while they puke is just helping. Holding Seamus’s hair back at the water fountain — gathering up all those thick dark curls, letting your fingers brush the back of her neck— that’s flirting. Which is why Gavin’s never tried that with Seamus.

Seamus leans into the mirror, carefully blotting her face. “Just because every girl flirts with you doesn’t mean they’re flirting with me.”

Gavin doesn’t even try to argue the first half of the point. But even if Seamus doesn’t have Gavin’s brand of adorable butch magic, the kind that beguiles queers and converts straight girls, plenty of girls ought to be into the busty Irish barmaid vibe that Seamus has going. “Doesn’t mean they’re not, either.”

Seamus makes a skeptical noise and shakes a nearly empty tube of something over her palm, trying to expel the contents.

Gavin’s suddenly conscious of her own nighttime routine: considerably easier, and already completed. Teeth brushed, sports bra tossed over her chair, jeans and crop top replaced with boxers and an old t-shirt. Done.

She repositions her pillow behind her head. “Would you ever?” she asks Seamus, while Seamus is distracted with the sad empty wheeze of whatever skin care product she’s after.

Somehow it’s never occurred to her to ask. Gavin always figured Seamus would tell her if she ever had anything to say. Gavin hadn’t had any hesitation about telling Seamus, pugnaciously spitting out I’m gay while they were stickhandling in Seamus’s driveway six years ago, using Seamus’s momentary confusion to swat the puck out from under her.

Seamus suddenly gives up on the tube in her hand, tossing it into the garbage can with a clunk. She rummages through her basket and comes up with dental floss instead. “Yeaaaaah…” The syllable draws out uncertainly as Seamus pulls a length of floss out of its case. She doesn’t sound unsure about the answer. She sounds more unsure about sharing it with Gavin. “I never have.” She leans in close to the mirror and works the floss between her molars with precise movements. “I don’t think I’d know how.”

“It’s easy,” Gavin scoffs. “You’ve kissed guys, you can kiss a girl.” Although Gavin’s not 100 percent sure how far Seamus has gone with guys, even. Seamus never told her about anyone in the picture while she was at the program. And from what Gavin’s seen this year, guys don’t really seem to… stick. They’ll be around for a few weeks — a study partner, a coffee date, a string of notifs superimposed over Seamus’s lockscreen photo of her and Gavin at U18 worlds — and then gone without explanation. Seamus never looks too upset. Gavin never asks.

Seamus flicks the used floss into the trash can and turns to face Gavin. “It seems pretty different.”

Gavin can’t remember whether the Team USA shirt Seamus is wearing is hers or Gavin’s. Same with the faded Florida Alliance t-shirt Gavin’s wearing. Now that they share a dorm room it’s pretty much stopped mattering. Seamus keeps sneaking her laundry into Gavin’s basket and Gavin keeps letting her get away with it. “I could teach you.”

Seamus looks away so quickly it’s almost a flinch. “You would?”

“Yeah, sure.” It’s not like Seamus would be the first straight girl who’s learned the ropes from Gavin. It feels a little more… high stakes, maybe… with Seamus, but why should it? What good is a gay best friend if she can’t teach you how to hook up with a girl? Gavin can do a little gay mentoring, equip Seamus to kiss whoever she wants. Anybody at all. Just… like, hopefully not anybody from the lacrosse team. Or anybody else tall and blonde. Gavin swings her feet over the edge of the bed and sits up. “C’mere.”

“Like now?” Seamus shifts her weight uncertainly from one bare foot to the other under the hems of her pajama pants.

Gavin pats the mattress next to her. “Yeah, now.”

“Can we at least…” Seamus goes for the light switch without finishing her question. Gavin lets her. As Seamus’s feet whisper across the floor in the darkened room, she wonders what Seamus doesn’t want her to see.

Her eyes adjust as Seamus perches on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under her so she can face Gavin. It feels familiar. They could be eight years old, in Gavin’s bedroom in Florida, crunching wintergreen lifesavers to watch the sparks. They could be fifteen, in a hotel room at a minor hockey tournament, Seamus trying to draw lip liner on Gavin for the awards banquet. Eighteen’s not so different. It’s not so different to see Seamus’s face, bare and vulnerable, when she closes her eyes as Gavin leans in to kiss her.

Gavin’s ready to show off a little, but isn’t she always. She tucks a finger under Seamus’s chin and tilts her face upward into Gavin’s best entry-level kiss, warm and slow and searching, the kind that usually makes straight girls forget they came to the party hoping to blow Adam or Rutger.

It doesn’t quite work on Seamus. Her lips are soft, but she’s so tense Gavin can feel her grinding her teeth.

Gavin pulls back. “Relax.”

Seamus sucks in a deep breath like she’s been putting it off while Gavin was kissing her. “Sorry.” She covers her mouth with the back of her hand. “You don’t have to…”

“Oh yes I do,” Gavin says, murderously. Now she’s determined. She’s going to win the… well, whatever it is, she’s going to win it. She’s going to get Seamus started off right on whatever fucking journey she’s headed on. She grips Seamus’s shoulder loosely and gives her a little shake. “Just, like, breathe, okay?”

Seamus nods quickly. “Okay.”

Something about the smallness of her voice burrows underneath Gavin’s bravado. She takes Seamus’s face between her hands, and it’s like she’s holding all of it, all thirteen years of shared history twined together like a French braid, cradled in her palms. “Okay,” Gavin echoes, softer, and brings their lips together.

She doesn’t bother taking it easy this time. Just goes in mean and hungry, but that’s nothing Seamus doesn’t already know about her. Seamus finally relaxes, mouth falling open soft and easy, when Gavin catches her bottom lip between her teeth. Maybe because it’s exactly what she’d expect from Gavin.

Gavin lets one hand drift down the line of Seamus’s neck and trail along her collarbone. She traces a fingertip over Seamus’s shoulder along the line of her bra strap, just a little tease to build on when Gavin decides where she wants to take this.

Seamus leans into the kiss. Gavin can feel the catch in her breath, the yearning angle of her head as she follows Gavin’s mouth. But as Gavin’s hands wander, Seamus’s hands sit uselessly in her lap. “Touch me,” Gavin murmurs against Seamus’s lips, punctuating it with a stinging kiss.

After a breath, Seamus carefully settles one hand at Gavin’s side, just above the waistband of her boxers. Gavin twines a hand in Seamus’s hair—god, all that hair, thick and dark and cloaking a pocket of pure heat against Seamus’s neck—so she can hold Seamus in place, lick deeper inside of her. Her skin feels raw, hypersensitive, anticipating Seamus’s touch.

Seamus’s hand stays tentatively at her waist. More like she’s steadying herself than touching Gavin.

Gavin breaks off the kiss. “Okay…”

Seamus immediately drops her hand, as if they’re all done here.

“Hold on.” Gavin crosses her arms and strips her t-shirt over her head in one seamless motion. Her nipples tighten with the sudden coolness, the awareness of exposure. “You have to actually touch me.” She tries to level Seamus with a challenging stare.

It misses the mark. Seamus’s eyes are elsewhere, looking at Gavin’s tits like she’s never seen them before. Gavin can’t quite read her expression in the dark. Maybe cautious. Maybe hungry.

She cups Seamus’s hand in her own and lifts it to her breast. “Here.” Gavin waits a moment before withdrawing her own hand, wondering if Seamus can feel her heartbeat quickening. Seamus looks up at her, eyes so dark that Gavin might drown in them. She doesn’t pull away when Gavin releases her, shifting her hand instead so that Gavin’s breast fits in the curve of her palm.

“Oh.” Seamus barely breathes it. She brushes her thumb over the tip of Gavin’s nipple, feather-light.

Heat ripples out from the touch and pools in Gavin’s belly. She closes her eyes and arches into Seamus’s hand. “Yeah, there.”