#i guess if you spend an ungodly amount of time doing something at the expense of all your other hobbies

[snapdragoned]

If you'll humor me for a second - wow, I am really proud of myself for how far I've with both my editing and decorating! The top picture is from May 2023. The bottom one is from July 2024. Night and day!

[juseki-taisen]

How about how the 12 warriors celebrate V-Day? (Bonus challenge being Doudecuple and Navi)

Thank you for the request @gale-dragon-writer

This was a long one! I hope you guys like!

Inounoshishi

Without S/O

This wouldn’t happen, let’s be real. If it did she planned this by choice, so she’s probably busy kicking ass and taking names...and numbers

Probably prowls bars for lonely men/women/they’s ect to buy her drinks.

Never pays for any food or drink of Valentines. She’s hot af and knows it

It’s 50/50 if she’s going to go home with someone

With S/O

Expects to be spoiled. Please spoil her

Despite her immense wealth, she doesn’t expect you to buy her expensive things. She can do that herself. What she’d really like is for a gift that’s full of thought.

If you make her a gift, she’ll play it off but she secretly loves it. It doesn’t matter how shitty it is. If you make her a cute boar figure out of clay and it’s lopsided, but you tried hard and painted it her favorite color, it’s going on her mantel in the living room.

Spoils you too. You will drown in gifts and kisses. Don’t worry, she uses amazing lipstick and it doesn’t stick to your face.

Dotsuku

Without S/O

Spends the day giving candy to the children.

Secretly gives his daughter a secret admirer letter, her confidence SKY ROCKETS

Decorates his classroom

This man is great at help kids learn about consent. No pulling pigtails, and if a boy likes a girl and she tells him no, he makes sure he knows not to keep bugging her. Same thing with the girls. If a boy doesn’t like them they’re not allowed to keep bugging them either.

Watches cute love movies with his daughter. He’s her prince charming.

With S/O

You better believe he has you help decorate his classroom

You make cute paper hearts and pick out candy

The kids leave you valentines

He takes you to dinner. His daughter comes too. You guys have a lot of fun. He buys you and his daughter a dessert. Somehow she eats here and half of yours

Snuggles on the couch and a cute movie.

Niwatori

Without an S/O

Doesn’t celebrate

She doesn’t understand why it’s a big deal

Indulges the day after on discount candy

With an S/O

Help her

She wants to celebrate but she’s in Ushii level awkward when it comes to doing anything

Picks the most popular movie out, watches it, and THAT is the basis for her whole idea

Gets you candy. Wears a cute dress. Picks a place to eat. Buys you roses, or do you get her roses? She’ll get them for you...just in case

Candy? Candy. Lots of candy.

Any small thing you get her she’s going to love. She never has really gotten gifts, and one out of love is a gift she’ll treasure forever

If you do get her flowers, she’s going to press them or dry them and keep them forever

Sharyu

Without an S/O

She had a fiancé for what seemed like forever, so a day without one is kind of difficult for her

She’s happy she’s alone, because she’s happy with who she is and now doesn’t have anyone to try and fit her into a mold that she didn’t belong

Kind of mopes though. She wants romance and someone who loves her for who she is and everything she does

Drinks hot coco and eats an ungodly amount of chocolate

With an S/O

So. Excited.

She cooks all day and makes cake, dinner, and everything else from scratch

You get her gifts and feel like it’s still not enough

Honestly? It doesn’t matter what you get her. She just love shaving you around and knowing how much you care for her for who she is

PLEASE slow dance with her in the kitchen while you’re doing the dishes. She’ll remember it forever

Hitsujii

Without an S/O

Hangs out at home

Waiting for the candy to go on sale

Babysits for his child so they can have a romantic evening

Watches random shows on TV, but avoids romance stuff

With an S/O

Still wants to hang out at home, but will go out if you want

Uses this as an excuse to DESTROY the candy aisle

Gets you flowers, they’re not red roses because that’s pretty expensive, but he gets cute ones...and a bear

Snuggles and falling asleep to bad rom coms on TV

Uuma

Without an S/O

Spends it alone

He wishes he had someone, but he’s alright for the most part

Okay he’s not

He’s a big softie inside and somewhat romanticizes the holiday more than he should

Eats cake...and chocolate 

With an S/O

The man goes WILD

Roses everywhere

Candlelight 

A romantic dinner he made meticulously after practicing for weeks

Remakes the titanic ship in a bottle, with you two as the figures on the front of the ship

He loves any gift you get him. He cries. He tries not to, but he does. 

He writes you a poem he gets to embarrassed to read. You get it in a card. 

Takeyasu

Without an S/O

Steals everything with his brother

Necklaces, candy, and even flowers just so he can light them on fire

Doesn’t think much of the holiday, never has. It’s stupid. 

With an S/O

He’s awkward. He doesn’t know how to celebrate the holiday

He gets you the basics, candy, a bear, and flowers. That’s it right? 

Oh wait, you wanna do something? Uh, can a theme park be romantic?

You have a lot of fun actually, and when inevitably he lights part of it on fire, he has stuff for smores. 

You save the picture from the tunnel of love. You managed to snap it before he lit it on fire. The tunnel was the point of origin. 

Later on down the road he plans more stuff. He may also use fireworks to do your name in the air or something

Steals you a car. 

Nagayuki

Without an S/O

Steals stuff with his brother

Gets entirely to many snacks

Does anything but Holiday stuff

With an S/O

Doesn’t want to do anything, but will because you ask him

Takes you for dinner, and he enjoys spending time with you, but because social convention is making him he’s grumpy about it 

If you’re the kind of person who is easily embarrassed, he may send you cheesy emails with stupid valentines cards

Chocolate and all KINDS of snacks

Later on down the line he’ll plan more romantic stuff, and buy you nice things with real money so you know he cares

Usagi

Without an S/O

He likes the Holiday and wants someone to do it with SOOOO BAD

Watches all those cute movies and cheesy rom coms

Has a “Friend” he takes out on a date

It doesn’t go well

With an S/O

Oh boy. He’s SO HAPPY

He gets you everything. Flower, roses (ignore the blood it’s fine), and he lets you know he’s arrived to pick you up by having his friends hold him high while he has a boom box playing your favorite song. Even if it’s metal. Even if he thinks the holiday begins at midnight. Your neighbors wont care, right?

You will go to ALL the cheesy stuff. Cute rides at a theme park, which somehow gets burned down later on thanks to someone (Takeyasu)

 A dinner and flowers, chocolate. SO MUCH CANDY. He even likes the terrible heart ones. He made you a box filled with ones that have saying that remind him of you

Cuddles, kisses, and smooches that just...don’t stop. Even in public. You gotta tell him to tone it down. 

Tora

Without an S/O

Drinks, and mopes

She doesn’t really want to date, but seeing other people happy kinda rubs it in when you’re single

Partakes in day after candy sales

She actually avoids the bars, to many couples being happy and cute

Angrily eats snacks

With an S/O

She doesn’t expect much, other than maybe being one of those annoying couples who steals Every. Booth. In. The. Restaurant. 

Please get her presents. Please. She’ll get really happy and flustered

This girl will actually try and make you chocolate from scratch. Sharyu helps. She even wraps them in a cute wrapping paper she draws herself

It’s pretty casual and after bar hopping you spend it at home. You’re with her so she cuts back so she’s not sloshed. She wants to remember being with you. 

So many cute kisses. 

Hand holding. It still gets her flustered. 

Please get your picture taken at some point. She’ll put it by her bed and fall asleep smiling

Ushii

Without an S/O

There’s a Holiday? 

He guess he noticed it was harder than normal to get a table for his favorite restaurant

Doesn’t really like sweets so the holiday just annoys him

So many people confess to him and he’s just like “Okay. Cool. Thanks” 

With an S/O

He’s not great with the holiday. He’s smart though, so he tries  to research what to do

Googles top ten most romantic gesture, luckily has the sense not to propose

Gets you candy, roses, and all the stereotypical stuff

You have to tell him to relax, because all the stuff he’s saying is regurgitated rom com lines

When he does relax, he’s actually really sweet. Stupidly sweet actually. 

“I don’t need a holiday to tell me you’re important, you’re already always on my mind, but the candy is nice I guess”

Will watch whatever you want. Is always confused by romance movies, but oh BOY does he love going out to eat with you. Hell. Yes. The desserts are amazing and now he gets to share them with you

Care you a card. It’s ugly, but he tries

Gets you a really cute necklace. It has a small ox on it, so he can always be with you. 

Nezumi

Without an S/O

Eats candy and sleeps. It’s no different than any other day, other than people piss him off more.

He doesn’t like how weird people get 

They also made out on his locker...and he needed his textbook. Please....Let him get his books

With an S/O

Uses his paths so much that he passes out and HARD CORE NAPS before you go out

Has the perfect gift.

Plays co op video games with you

He doesn’t like people, so you get take out and stay home

You watch movies, but they’re movies like Princess Bride, Warm Bodies, and love stories that aren’t so normal and are more fun

If you’re LGBT he goes out of his way to find a good movie ahead of time, because he loves and supports you and this day is about you two damn it! (The other’s would try to do this for their S/O, but would have a harder time. since most of them are not great with technology like Nezumi is)

So much candy and snacks

Selfies and filters

You fall asleep together and nap

get him a gift. He’ll know it’s coming but it still makes him happy

BONUS CHALLENGE 

Doudecuple

Without an S/O

Doesn’t do a whole lot. Has wine and watches the mortals below

Maybe messes with people just a bit to amuse himself

Does his own thing. He really doesn’t care for the holiday

With an S/O

Wine and a dessert charcuterie board

Gets you an expensive gift, but practical. A coat, a scarf. Something to keep you warm and cozy you can use everyday and think of him.

Makes the impossible possible. A romantic setting with only a few people

Getting the tickets for some play or show the last minute

Please do something cheesy, it’ll amuse him, and he’ll secretly keep it

ON THE FLIP SIDE

He may get a gift from you, then anyone who goes in his office will see it. 

“Look what my Love got me. Have you beheld it?”

It doesn’t matter if it’s stupid. He’s keeping it forever 

Navi

Without and S/O

Stays home and has snacks and chocolates

Maybe organizes his hat collection

Watches fun game shows or anything without romance

With S/O

Has a special hat he wears for the occasion

Gets you one too

Gets you candy and a single rose, as well as a teddy bear

Uses his tablet to find the best places to go with the best rating. Uses his ability to multiply to hold your place in line so you can actually do other stuff

Ferris wheel. He has to hold his hat on but you guys get an AMAZING picture together. It’s his screensaver. He texts it to Nezumi. Nezumi and him start having a couple picture off. Next year, double date. 

[oof-musicals]

Together, you and me//chapter 2

Part two! This one took a bit because I've been preparing for school stuff but here it is! I've never been to Vermont, it's only research. Of course, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list and here it is:]] it's also very dialogue-heavy and kinda rushed whoops.

Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added): @tarantulas4davey, @racecrack-higgins

Race gets bored very easily and two people trying to sleep in the backseat in a car isn't the best idea. First stop: Vermont.

Aka: Albert loves Race in 1419 words.

Word count: 1419

Read on Ao3

**Please Reblog/Queue if you like**

If you told Anthony Higgins five years ago that he'd be traveling to all 50 states with his boyfriend, he'd probably tell you that'd be something he'd do. But when he thought about it, this was probably the most expensive risk he's taken in a while.

Also the longest.

He knew it was going to take a long time, sure, this wasn't England where it took five hours to get from coast to coast. They were going to spend a lot of time in the car. But it sounded easier to be in a car for days at a time in theory rather than in practice.

Vermont, luckily, was only around 5 and a half hours away from Manhattan. If they avoided making too many stops, they could make it there by eight-fifty.

It took Race until about four pm to start complaining.

"It's only been 30 minutes, you'll live," Albert rolled his eyes in response to Race’s whining. “You aren’t even the one driving.”

“Exactly Albie!” Race complained, crossing one of his legs over the other. “I have nothing to do.”

Albert stifled a groan and turned off the radio that had been playing 90s songs for the past half hour. "Okay, let's just, talk."

Race looked out the window. "I don't really know what to talk about."

"You're really annoying,"

"That's my job." Race winked.

“What about astronomy? Where are your star facts?” Albert suggested as he changed lanes. “Come on, I miss them.”

“Fine, you win.” Race groaned. “There are nine thousand and ninety-six stars visible to the naked eye in the entire sky. That’s a cool fact.”

“I thought you told me it was like a trillion before,” Albert questioned.

"That's galaxies," Race clarified, but decided to move on. "Uh, what else? Oh! Callisto, the pretty moon I showed you once is ninety-nine percent as big as Mercury is." He grabbed a notebook from his backpack, flipping through pages of detailed notes and mumbling softly. “The first supernova was recorded in 145 AD AND nearly 2000 years after that, the remains were still identified.”

The rest of the ride consisted of Race rambling on about astrology and Albert loving every second of it. He might have the whiniest boyfriend in the world, but oh did he love this idiot.

___________

As the car pulled into the rest stop 4 and a half hours later, Race let out a comically loud yawn.

"Tired, huh?" Albert joked, turning the gear into park and unbuckling his seatbelt.

"You might be the one driving, but that doesn't mean it's not exhausting to be in a car for 5 hours." Race remarked.

"You could drive.”

Race ignored him, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing sweatpants from the backseat. “Do you really think that is a good idea?”

“Absolutely not, actually.”

Ten minutes and a never-ending banter later, the two found themselves laying down in the backseat. Race on the edge, Albert with his back facing the seat. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but if they’re going to control their budget, they can’t spend every night in a hotel.

“And tomorrow, we can hopefully hike that Antone Mountian,” Albert rambled about their day tomorrow while Race hummed sleepily. “But now, you’re around one sentence away from passing out, so we can talk about it later.”

"Yeah,” Race yawned, giving Albert a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight Albie."

"Goodnight, T."

"I love you."

Albert smiled, his stomach still did a flip every time Race uttered those three words. He doesn't really know why he felt like a giddy teenager, considering he's in his mid-twenties, but the words never failed to make him feel just, so lucky. "I love you too."

Albert stayed up a little bit after Race closed his eyes. Not that he had any trouble sleeping, he could practically fall asleep anywhere he wanted. Race didn’t have the same advantage, even at home, where he was probably the most comfortable, he had trouble falling and staying asleep. It was only going to be more challenging in the backseat of a sedan with half of the space being filled with an ungodly amount of snacks.

It was really hard to find a position comfortable for the both of them. They could've really done without the snacks but Race insisted. If there was one thing Race was, it was persistent.

This was going to be a long trip. But if Albert was with Race, he’d do it a thousand times.

_____

Turns out, two people sleeping in the back of a sedan is not a foolproof plan. They found that out the hard way. Well, Race found it out the hard way - Albert didn't find out until the morning.

"Wake up," Race poked Albert in the side, resulting in Albert only groaning and slowly opening his eyes. It couldn't have been past 8 am, the sun was still rising. Why in the world was he being woken up this early?

"What are you doing up? You've never woken up early in your life." He asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

"Fell off the seat," Race grumbled, taking a seat next to Albert, leaning his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. "I've been trying to fall back asleep since like… four am? The sun came up and you were taking too long to wake up."

"'m sorry," Albert yawned. It was way too early to be up for someone who had to spend the day hiking mountains, that's for sure. He was going to need some coffee. Coffee sounded real nice right now. "What time is it now?"

"What am I a clock? I don't know."

"You are rude when you're sleep-deprived." Albert grabbed his phone, checking the time before setting an alarm. "It's 7:15. I say, we go back to sleep for two hours and then start out the day."

"You're sleeping on the edge this time."

Albert ignored Race's comment, slipping his arm under the pillow propped up against the blankets, one of which he took and tossed over his eyes to avoid the sun.

__

Race hated hiking. If that's one thing he decided today, it's that.

When he thought about it, the trail wasn't that bad, it really wasn't. And the view was probably beautiful, but hiking sucked.

"Maybe this hiking thing was a mistake. My legs hurt."

"You're dramatic," Albert called from up ahead. "Come on track star, you got this!"

"You've never been hiking before," Race jogged up to Albert. "I'm surprised you aren't dying right now."

"We walk around New York every day." Albert rolled his eyes "You shouldn't be dying."

Race "I hate you. So much." He said, tripping and nearly slipping off the trail.

"Don't fall off the trail there, Tones." Albert grabbed Race's arm, pulling him up. "Heard mountain lions like blonde idiots."

"Duly noted." Race replied sarcastically. "Don't think there are any mountain lions in this area though, wouldn't they have already gotten to me?"

"You're right."

"Well!" Race wrapped his arm around Albert, "Guess you're stuck with me."

"Shit, guess that's the worst-case scenario for me."

Race rolled his eyes and stopped complaining for most of the hike. And he was right, the view was pretty - breathtaking even. The rolling hills and never-ending trees… this was definitely worth the hike. This was definitely worth the trip. For all Race complained, he was having a great time.

__

"So!" Albert started the car, "Vermont, what'd you think?"

"I mean, I'm looking forward to other places. South Dakota has Mount Rushmore - which, no matter how many times you say, is cooler than the photos, I'm sure of it. Vermont just has mountains," Race adjusted the air conditioning, "but I didn't have the worst time."

"Mount Rushmore is just like the photos though," Albert rolled his eyes. "And if you don't want to go to states just for mountains, you didn't have to agree to go to every state."

"Albie, we've been dating for six years, you think I was going to not take it seriously?"

"I guess you're right, T. But if you keep complaining I'm not taking you on a road trip again."

"Rude," Race pouted.

"Only love, baby."

“But, I did like it.” Race admitted. “For all my complaining, I’m having a great time.” He took Albert’s hand, “Not to get sappy or anything but, thank you for bringing me along on this trip.”

Albert didn’t even have to say ‘I love you’ at that moment, Race already could tell.

[hunterartemis]

La Femme en Chemise Soie: A Sherlock Fanfiction-Oneshot.

Words: 3672

Theme: Libera Me , From Interview with a Vampire: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6aPxaCpP

Summery: Sherlock comes across a piece of clothing which shall lead him to something he learned not to believe.

Warning: Suicide, horror, general creepiness

“John what can you deduce from this--“ Sherlock threw a piece of black satin camisole at John’s face.

It was raining outside in Westminster city as it does most of the time in this part of the month. John just walked in after stepping out of his raincoat that he got along with his army uniform. Before he could sit down for the warm comfort near the fireplace after a tiring day of piles, blisters, and vaginal warts, a piece of fabric hit him square across his face. Before it could glide off, John gathered the small thing in his fists and held it at a distant to examine it first.

“That you are finally getting laid like a normal human being“ Watson shook the fabric in the air and suddenly the true form of the fabric unraveled in front of his eyes. “My God, it’s true isn’t it?“ John looked at Holmes with an affirmative look. Upon his finger dangled a black silk chemise by its spaghetti strap. Even in the dark lighting of the room, it gleamed with its dark pearlescent sheen. 

“Never form a theory before judging the facts, Watson. One must form a theory to suit the facts, not the other way around--“ Sherlock sprung upon his feet, his blue dressing gown swaying behind him “now Doctor, let’s see how much of a deduction power you have acquired to this date.“ His blue eyes twinkled upon John.

“C’mon Sherlock, this is childish.“ John Watson tossed the chemise at his friend, “you saw me out a few days, you’re bored without a case and you found someone to sleep with you and now you are being a diva about it--grow up“ John slumped oh his chair angrily. Sherlock on the other hand silently smirked towards him, a smirk specially reserved for someone who is entirely wrong and adamantly establishes the wrong facts as truth.

“Wrong dear Doctor, not once but on three accounts. First, if I slept with a woman I found attractive but difficult to court, I would fling her knickers up in the air, like a trophy if you will. If I found the woman attractive and was attached to her, her brassieres or top would be in my possessions, and I would lock it up safely in my bedroom, hidden, like a treasure if you will. And last but not least, I found this in my bedroom, on my bed, after I woke up. The doors and windows were closed as usual and I was fully clothed in my nightwear and didn’t move an inch from my designated sleeping position--so tell me now doctor, what can you deduce from this?”

John looked at Sherlock with a surprised eye. It took him some moments to adjust to the facts he was given by the faster than a common speech by Sherlock. Sherlock smirked again and tossed the chemise towards John. He was more careful and delicate this time as he slipped his finger at the underlining of the think silk chemise, fondling it between his fingers.

“It’s good silk...“ he commented, without tearing his eyes from the cloth, “well maintained and-- clean.“ He briefly sniffed it, “by the style and the size, it seems to be of a young woman's... “ Watson lifted his face and shrugged casually, “nothing in particular...“ and suddenly, as if realising he was doing something improper, he dropped the chemise in his lap, “look, I am really out of my depths here--and besides, why am I deducing the owner of this, like a bloody pervert--“

“because you have more experience with women, isn’t that obvious?“ Sherlock remarked with an annoyed expression and then he stooped to pick up the piece of clothing, “as you refuse to do it, let me demonstrate--“ he shook the chemise like a piece of a napkin before tucking it into the neck and swiped it in front of his nose, to sample its odour. “Hmm... a young woman with simple but impeccable taste, no less than 28, tall with a short torso and long legs, very attached to the few clothes she wears, insecure about her endowments, single, introverted and has red hair, “ Sherlock said with a self-satisfied smile.

“I hate when you flex on me Sherlock, you cannot possibly tell that much from a piece of undergarment-- it’s just impossible,” John said exasperatedly as he cocked his legs on Sherlock’s table, an act he seldom does.

“Ah, Doctor... how many times shall I tell you to observe...” Sherlock turned a little on his heels in an exasperated motion. His gritted teeth bared in frustration as if something is at the tip of John’s nose and he can’t see it, “reverse the top, it says La Perle, it is not a commonly worn brand of lingerie--”

“and I am sure you have plenty of experience with that--” John added sarcastically.

“Alas, I don’t get enough credit for my range of knowledge...anyhow, a brand that expensive and design this simple as a cut-piece of black satin it means the woman is of Impeccable taste. And look near the hem Watson, it is slightly distressed at the sides, why? because it is regularly tucked inside the bottom other than that the chemise may show under the hem of the top she is wearing, hence short torso. The gap--“ Sherlock held out the chemise by its thin straps and examined it very carefully “is impeccably wide... this indicates large shoulders, hence she is tall--“

“--Or she is an athlete, like a swimmer or a weightlifter--“ Watson suggested obliquely.

“Don’t be absurd, a bodybuilder or a swimmer won’t spend their money on something that will be destroyed with sweat and abrasion--this is a cloth of a delicate fashion-conscious woman. The overall structure of the fabric is relatively well kept, but the label suggests it is at least three years old, so I am guessing someone who is at their late twenties--that’s the time when you skip the frill and ribbons“ Sherlock indicated with a wave of the hand, and then stepped into the light holding the chemise against it, “and therefore my conclusion is that someone who wears a capsule wardrobe--treasuring a few but quality items of clothes....a classic sign of an introvert.“

“Not all introvert wears muted colours--“ Watson interjected.

“Oh don’t be daft, all introverts wear neutral colours, they don’t want unintentional attention amongst the stranger--and that brings us to the next objective, her current relationship status. As an introvert, she wants to make a connection but never goes as too bold, not in action and definitely not in her lingerie. She recently had a breakup and therefore she is trying to form another connection and she trying to feel sexy again. What is the best way?“ Sherlock paused for a dramatic effect but his friend decided to veer to a very different side.

“And what about her...“

“her what...?“

“You know...“ Watson made a curved hand gesture in front of him, refolding his cocked legs from the table to underneath him, as he straightened up.

“What?“

“Her endowments?“ John spat the words and instantly reddened around the ears.

“Ah..” Sherlock exclaimed like nothing has happened, but suddenly his blue eyes twinkled with mischief, “you are getting curious where you need to--”

“Sherlock, I swear to god--” John exasperated.

“Anyhow... you see how wide the shoulders are John?” He almost flailed the clothing on John’s face, and threw it in his lap for him to examine “with shoulder this tall and torso that short, the inclination at the bosom has barely any stretch, so it definitely means--”

“You just read the size label didn’t you, you sod?” John reversed the chemise and held it up for Sherlock to see. “That’s it, I am going to sleep--enjoy your perverted fantasies...“ he threw the chemise at his face and walked away.

The last thing Sherlock heard from John that night was the slam of the door of his room.

...

For the next few mornings, Sherlock spent an ungodly amount of time near the window of his flat. His natural deductive mind told him that the unknown owner of the Chemise will loiter around here--somewhere, at the corner of his mind told him that it was left intentionally because the Chemise was clean--

too much clean.

But fate was with him as it seemed. For, two-three days he could see a woman loitering around Baker Street, awfully close to his flat. He couldn’t see her face very clearly to make out her features, but from the distance, she fitted the description he made about the owner of the Chemise. 

Tall, red hair, dark clothes, long legs.

she indeed has some broad shoulder. Sherlock could see that from upstairs, the top of her head, from where at the very fleshy dot, the red hair cascaded at the sides upon her shoulders, and even then, Sherlock could see her sliding top, which was adjusted to cover her flesh-colored bra strap. However, her ways seemed peculiar, strange almost--the way she walked or moved in general--a strange anxiousness stuck like fly in the ointment in Sherlock’s mind.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one who was keeping an eye on her.

A blond bespeckled woman rushed towards her after gaining an opportunity by saying “excuse me” to her. After a little, rather stiff and uncomfortable conversation, the red-haired woman darted her head upwards. She was directly looking at Sherlock.

The eyes looked pickle-green and glowed with a feline grace--Scottish?

As if within a blink of an eye, that woman vanished out of Sherlock’s side. His keen eyes veered throughout the length of the street but no girl or woman that looked like that could be seen. Sherlock swiftly thumped downstairs and had a run throughout the block but in vain.

...

That night Sherlock could not sleep well. He tossed and turned about his bed, the air hung above him like a thick canopy, asphyxiating him with an invisible hand. He laid on his back, eyes fixated on the ceiling, bored and tired. He felt as tedious as one feels in a long winding line... like that case in Pope’s Court... what was the name Watson wrote in his blog? Ah yes, the ‘Red Headed League’... romantic that man! what metaphor: “as if the entire Pope’s Court was filled with orange--”

His sudden train of thought was interrupted with the creaking sound of his door. Strange, how could a closed-door creak? It would have been the first thought of his deducive mind, but alas. Today his mind was asleep with himself. Sherlock had to step out from his tousled bed to shut down the creaky door.

slam

The creaky door, whose handle was almost near Sherlock’s grip, slammed itself shut with an ear-shattering slam--on its own.

Sherlock hadn’t yet been nervous. His steel-like nerves were too well trained for something a little startling as this one. Instead, he tried the doorknob, and when it failed, he tried to slam it down, but apparently, no force in the world could open the rusty door that was creaking miserably a few moments ago. When he finally gave out of exhaustion and perspiration, he sunk in his floor. the leather belt of his wristwatch felt against his temple. 

Time was exactly 3 in the morning. Not a second more, not a second less.

Another strange matter crossed in his mind, How come John or Mrs. Hudosn did not come slamming towards his room after all the banging and thundering he had done. And why everything was so awfully quiet... It’s  London for God’s sake, no matter what’s the time, there’s always traffic, and at this hour--slurs of drunkards, hustles of all-nighter food-stalls, late-night cabbies... what happened to the creatures of the night--

The train of his thought halted stop abruptly because there was something else that occupied his mind. the window that was closed securely up until now, slammed open with a gust of wind that roared and stormed in like a cold easterly. Even in a hot night like this, the wind froze the atmosphere around Sherlock to a point that he had to reach for his dressing gown. 

No, Sherlock knew he wasn’t under the influence, he was completely sober and normal. However, he wished that he were, because if he were high then he would have consolation for not be able to understand why the other window beside this ones were completely still and closed like nothing has ever happened to it.

His revolver was under the dresser of the nightstand. He cautiously reached for it to pull it out. Gently and very cautiously he walked towards the window--nothing was making sense anymore, because if it were then it would have been the last thing he would have done. The faint streetlight shined dimly with a strange yellow hue, almost as if they were gaslights. A buzzing sound rung in his ears as he wondered at the strange atmosphere of the night. The air was stuffy, very still--but it felt like it was the end of November. There was not a single living creature that walked the street anymore.

Except her.

No, it wasn’t a mistake--a tall red-headed woman was standing still on the other side of the road, looking at Sherlock with piercing feline eyes. There was no spasm in her silhouette, nor did she blink. In the entire wide Baker Street, there were only two creatures--him and the woman. The darkness at her back seemed denser and colder to Sherlock’s eyes, he tried very hard to speak up, but in vain. He felt his voice has been sucked out of his body by some invisible hand. 

His prized mind was paralysed, and the only thing he could do was to climb down his bedroom window--he felt he couldn’t lose her sight--the only thing his mind was registering in the fragility of the moment. Not a blink shall be spared, not even a breath. He looked at her as if she would vanish into the thin air.

The moment he descended into the street, his senses started to come back. He cautiously approached towards her. As the distance shortened he could see her face more clearly. She looked sallow and her feline eyes dug deep into the purplish shadow; she looked like she hadn’t seen Sun in days and hadn’t slept for weeks.

“Who are you...?“ Sherlock asked, with his hand extended towards the woman, but instead of answering, she looked at her right.

“What is there in--”

At first, Sherlock couldn’t understand what was going on, because how can a person of flesh and blood disappear within a few seconds. But it soon vanished from his head, because he clearly remembers she looked left--what was in the left side of the street.

Like a fly towards the flame, Sherlock’s mind led him towards the hauntedly empty Baker street, with a bubbling agitation in his heart that he felt seldomly. A sense of danger and melancholy plagued him like a nightmare. 

The crossroad where Baker street and Park road meets, Sherlock saw her standing under a streetlight. The bustling Park road stool still and empty like a wasteland, as if there were no single living soul in the city of London. The streetlight on top of her head accentuated the high points of her face in a gaunt manner, she looked almost bloodless, and the shadow on her neck looked like a thin choker-like reddish line.

“Who are you...?“ Sherlock asked, this time a little more compassionately, “what do you want from me?“

There was no answer from her. The thin lips quivered under the streetlight as if she wanted to say something but no answer came. Empathy was not the strongest suit of Sherlock, but there was something about this mute woman that evoked pity in his heart--he approached slowly and cautiously this time, trying not to aggravate her, “look, if you don’t tell me what do you want from me, I cannot help you....”

She stood still, like a lifeless statue, as if she couldn’t help but do so. He approached her quietly, almost uncharacteristically he placed his palm on the girl’s cold cheeks.

“Tell me, why are you following me...“ Sherlock said softly, “If you can’t speak, sign me, I can read--if you are in danger, I will sort it out.“

Again, she did nothing. She turned her head slowly towards her back.

“Did something happen there?“ Sherlock asked her gently, he was quiet surprised himself, if it were any other client, he would have ditched it--but somehow he couldn’t ditch this girl. He had ‘oh-I-am-so-helpless’ cases and client, but this case somewhat was pulling his heartstring for some reason, his mind resonated with an old suppressed feeling which he censored as stupid.

“Did something happen there?” he asked again. She nodded softly.

“Where? Upon this road?” Sherlock’s eyes veered towards the road, and suddenly his hand felt like it was grabbing air, and suddenly he remembered that afternoon five years ago.

“Please help me... someone’s going to kill me.” A frantic woman grabbed Holmes’ lapel and shook it helplessly. Holmes was irritated as he would have been if someone breached his personal space. He let go off her rather rudely, and stood on the side of the window.

“Boring... boring!” he mused, “you are a ex-schizofrenic with zero sense of personal space, go see a doctor and stop boring me.”

“No... no..” she shook her red hair violently, “I am not hallucinating, I swear—it follows me day and night, and sometimes I have troubled sleeping because I feel someone is always in my room--”

Now Holmes already had lost it, “this proves that you are in dire need of psychiatric help” he almost pushed the woman towards the door, “good day--”

Suddenly the woman’s expression changed from the previous helplessness to a distinctly threatening calmness. She looked straight into Holmes’s eyes, and as she stood at the dark background of the old landing, her paleness stood out gauntly and the purple shadow on her eyes looked grotesque as she threatened Holmes with a cold voice

“If I die Mr. Holmes, it would be on you.”

Sherlock would have forgotten about his nearly nutter client if Lestrade didn’t storm in with another murder case next day. And out of all the blessedly sacrifical people in London, Lestrade found Sherlock the body of a dead woman found floating in her chemise and knickers near Regent’s Park. He even followed him to St. Bart’s where she was under Molly Hooper’s examination... yes, it was her no doubt. That same red hair, the round face, the wide eye socket casketing two brilliant feline eyes.

“– her lungs were full of water and the CCTV footage told that she had jumped from the bridge near the Atrium Apartment on Park Road–“ Molly concluded, “apparantly a suicide but there was no note.”

“So I suggest leave the case alone, I am sure Scotland yard is more than capable of handling it”

He had shut that memory for good. Deep down in his mind he blamed himself for the girl’s death. She was so desperate and he turned her down. He could never be like Mycroft, stone cold and guilt free.

But why it was happening now

A strange chill paralyzed him like a naked man in a cold night.

So does that mean, his client is seeking revenge even after her death?

“If I die Mr. Holmes, it would be on you.”

Was she trying to... harm him?

 Suddenly he knew, he shouldn’t be in here. He knew that if he ever deared him life, he shouldn’t be here. Because his subconscious told him he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, he saw something that a living being should not be able to see. Whatever motor reflexes were left in his body, he concentrated on them and started to run, run like hell, into the ever bustling Baker Street that didn’t exist moment ago. The last thing Sherlock remembered a flash of white headlights and a rib shattering pain as he crashed off a cab onto the street.

It would have been fatal if Speedy didn’t see him.

Sherlock knows that no one will ever believe what truly happened that night. Watson and Molly believed he fell off  his bedroom window, and he will let them believe. He kept his mouth shut as the Orthopaedics and psychiatrists came to evaluated him.

Sometimes, when the night is too quite, Sherlock lies awake in his bed, wondering about the woman in the silk chemise. Sometimes in a crowded street he sees a flicker of that distinct red hair or a pair of twinkling feline eyes with dark circle. Of course he will never tell that to anyone, and not even admit it himself. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t think of herself at least once. If the street is deserted and the lights are dim, he would wonder off to the canal near the Atrium building to scream his heart out—

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?”

No one ever answers.

--

La Femme en Chemise Soie: The Girl in the Silk Chemise

I often saw in Writing Prompts, ‘bring your character out of their depth’, although Sherlock is not ‘my’ characters, but I thought I would introduce him with a bit of paranormal stuff.

I was watching Perfume the other day and I remembered watching Benedict’s version of Hamlet for my class. So I had an idea, what if I could cross Hamlet’s guilt of killing Ophelia with Sherlock’s disbelief and boredom. What if Ophelia could haunt Hamlet? I had to keep the paranormal under the radar because it’s Sherlock we are talking about... it could be a ghost, could be a hallucination. Upon the interpretation.

[cinemagnetic-yuyu]

The Binds that Break

Serbis and how Philippine law and culture betray the family

“Why are you fighting? You’re siblings!”

Where would you expect to hear a question like this? Perhaps from an exasperated mother just trying her best? From a concerned uncle at a partially forced family gathering?

In the Philippines, you hear this question in court from judges and lawyers trying to justify a crime against family by searching for imaginary moral ties in blood relations. In the Philippines, crimes committed by siblings against each other are scoffed at and treated as little more than a kindergarten squabble, no matter the crime. Did your sibling smash your car on purpose? Steal money from the family corporation? Forge your father’s will? Doesn’t matter, in the Philippines not even the highest court officials can fathom the reality of a family feud. You’re gonna have to search real hard for a lawyer who takes your case seriously, and if you’re a parent wronged by your child, you can forget about justice altogether. For some reason, people here believe that being related by blood immediately necessitates some kind of undying love. News flash: it doesn’t.

The law speaks for itself. Article 332 of the Revised Penal Code states:

No criminal liability, but only civil liability shall result from the commission of the crime of theft, swindling, or malicious mischief committed or caused mutually by the following persons:

1.Spouses, ascendants and descendants, or relatives by affinity in the same line;

2.The widowed spouse with respect to the property which belonged to the deceased spouse before the same shall have passed into the possession of another; and

3.Brothers and sisters and brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law, if living together.

(Source: https://www.lawphil.net/judjuris/juri2010/feb2010/gr_181409_2010.html)

As Filipino children, we are taught that having “close family ties” is highly upheld and valued in our culture, something to be proud of, if you will. But growing up in this country, I soon realized that this was a cover-up to hide dysfunction beneath the guise of a good Christian family with the end goal of appearing pleasing to the eyes of society. But it’s always the people closest to you that hurt you.

Beneath the hurried blowjobs at the back of a rundown movie theater, Brillante Mendoza’s Serbis is a testament to how Filipino culture and laws betray the family instead of protecting it. This is a point merely glossed over by reviewers, but I come from a shaky family myself, and I know what I’m talking about. Matriarch Nanay Flor is embroiled in a bigamy case against her husband Edwin, who at the time of this film has a whole other set of children with a younger woman. Flor’s own children Nayda, who helps run the theater, Jerome, who spends way too much time with his father’s other family, and Danny, a mechanical engineer who just died, are dead set on making sure their father doesn’t go to jail (for only 4 years and 2 months maximum, I might add), but their reasons are far from noble.

Nayda is perhaps the most sincere about not wanting her father behind bars. She shares these feelings with her mother, who sternly tells her, “your father is not above the law”. And she’s right. He has every reason to go to jail; bigamy is highly illegal in the Philippines and it’s quite easy to prove if you have the right documents. Flor has confidence in her lawyer and the judge, but loses the case anyway because, guess what, Jerome testifies against her. Clearly, the judge has also been bribed, as he changes his tune from support for Flor to immediately acquitting Edwin, guilty of a crime as serious and perjurious as bigamy, in just one hearing, and with only one supporting testimony.

Jerome later explains that he and his siblings agreed that proving his father was guilty of bigamy would be akin to legitimizing his children with his other wife, meaning they would also inherit his assets upon death. First of all, Jerome clearly is out to get money from his father while he is still alive, or else he wouldn’t be going to Jollibee with his father’s second family and spending an ungodly amount of time with the people who ruined his mother’s life. Second, this reasoning is absolute bullshit; under Philippine law, Edwin’s illegitimate children immediately gain the equivalent of half the shares given to a legitimate child regardless of whether Edwin is proven guilty of bigamy or not. Yes, ours is a country that protects children out of wedlock or illegal unions for some bizarre reason (perhaps because many of our senators are bastards themselves). Jerome’s misunderstanding of the law needlessly ended Nanay Flor’s life right then and there; she cannot divorce Edwin, because divorce is illegal in the Philippines (no joke, it’s just us and the Vatican left with a divorce ban). She intended to use bigamy as grounds for legal separation, which of course by law means that they are still married, but Flor’s goal was not money but justice. She was irrevocably hurt by Edwin’s actions, as she is now left trying to save a rundown theater from shutting down while at the same time taking care of her huge extended family: her daughter Nayda, son-in law Lando, grandson Jonas, adopted daughter Jewel, nephews Ronald and Alan, and now Alan’s impregnated girlfriend Merly, whose baby will be yet another mouth to feed, as abortion is also illegal in the Philippines.

Alan decides to leave the family to live with Merly instead of marrying her. Live-in couples are commonplace here. But this comes with its own complications: for one, live-in couples are not married and thus not protected by any marriage laws. Alan or Merly can just up and leave the other to take care of their child without any consequence. On the other hand, marriage is a life sentence because divorce is illegal, and grounds for annulment are few. The process of annulment is lengthy and highly expensive as well. In the end, thousands of broken Filipino families are forced to stay together and prevented from a second chance at life by the greed of an all too powerful Church and a weak government with incompetent lawmakers. Abusive marriages and teenage mothers are all too common here.

Flor is old. She wants little more than justice for herself and security for her family. She cares little about herself and tries her best to make things work for her family. But the laws and the culture of the Philippines prevent her from doing so, banning her to live the rest of her days in bitter regret. Merly, not even an adult, will have to shoulder the responsibility of raising a child all on her own as Alan will have to find a job. God knows if she can continue to go to school. Their lives ends here. There is no second chance for Flor or Merly or for anyone else in this godforsaken country.

I have met hundreds of Flors and Merlys in my 21 years of living here. They mask the sadness in their eyes with forced smiles so that people don’t suspect, don’t talk, don’t whisper among themselves. Society hides their problems behind Sunday masses and a stream of cheaply-produced entertainment on TV full of even more dysfunctional families.

The Philippines is a country that bans second chances for everyone but the criminals.

[puthyflapps]

Money Honey

@marcingestesmemes sent me this prompt today: “You asked for a prompt, so here’s my idea. In most of the fanfics, clexa is always on a superior social status. Whether in terms of money or power. Some of them have Clarke, but not enough. For this prompt, they are on equal footing. Clarke is new money rich, dad is a successful engineer/entrepreneur, mom runs a hospital. Lexa is old money rich, I’m talking Rockefeller type. Finger in a lot of pies type of wealth. The rest is up to you.”

Hope you enjoy

Send me more prompts and headcanons

Boring. That’s how these events usually were. Every year was the same. All of D.C.’s wealthiest families gathered together in the same posh building to spend one night together bragging about just how wealthy they were. The whole night was full of nothing but entitled, ultra-wealthy people, bosting about how much money they made that year or which ivy league school they bought their child’s way into. Old money or new money, it didn’t matter as long as you had it. And Clarke Griffin had it.

The 22-year-old was the sole heiress to her parent’s fortune. Jacob Griffin had made his money in engineering. The MIT Alum had formed his own company with close friends shortly after graduating from the prestigious university. In no time, the business had exploded. Griffin Tech Co. was now one of the largest engineering companies in the world. From cars to gadgets, to buildings, they were the go-to party. In fact, Griffin Tech Co. had constructed this very hotel that hosted these annual galas; a tragically ironic fact.

But, it is to be said that Clarke’s father isn’t the only breadwinner in the family. Her mother, Abigail, graduated at the top of her class from Johns Hopkins and is now the Chief of Surgery at one of D.C.’s most renowned hospitals – Griffin Memorial. Abby practically lived at the hospital. She lived and breathed surgeries. Clarke had spent so much of her childhood in the halls of that hospital that for the longest time she thought her name was code blue. Clarke had always admired her mother’s commitment to the job. To feel so inspired to do the very best every single day, to save lives and give the unfortunate a second chance was extremely admirable. Her mom was a hero to many including Clarke.

But Clarke, unlike her parents, saw herself as nothing more than average. She didn’t attend an ivy league school like her parents did. She attended a liberal arts school and she got average grades and had average friends and an average social life. That was the way she liked living. Although she had been groomed from the time she was a baby up until she sent off her last college application to be a doctor, that wasn’t what she wanted. When she had told her parents she wanted to be an artist they were less than enthused. Both STEM majors had taken their time explaining why they thought Clarke should reconsider. A combination of you’ll never be able to use that degree and honey, don’t you know that artists don’t make any money these days, had been tossed her way on more than one occasion. But, it had been her dream from the time she was a little girl drawing, pictures for the patients on her mom’s floor, to be an artist.

Perhaps, that’s why her parents dragged her to this ungodly event. To show her what she’s missing out on – which was nothing more than watching Chad from Kappa Delta talk about how many beers he could chug before puking while Amber from her old high school raves about how she and Gregory are expecting yet another baby and what a gift from God that is. If it wasn’t obnoxious, privileged young adults from the suburbs of D.C. spewing their ill-informed political views then it was creepy old men harassing her all night in hopes of somehow luring her to their bed. How on earth did her parents find these types of events fun? Maybe she would have fun at these events if her parents bragged about her the way the Donohouges bragged about how their son, Collin, would soon be taking over the family business. Maybe she’d enjoy herself a tad bit more if her mother went on about all her accomplishments nonstop like Mrs. Schultz did about her daughter. Maybe she would have the tiniest bit of a good time if her parents would just say they’re proud of her.

God, she needed a drink.

The only thing that made it worth stuffing herself into an uncomfortable cocktail dress that irritated her porcelain skin and designer heels that made the arches of her feet ache was the booze at these types of affairs. Rich people had good booze and this celebration was no exception. The ever-flowing champagne flutes and open bar set in the corner of the large ballroom was her only saving grace this evening. Now, to navigate her way through the crowd without getting trapped into a conversation with the Cohens about how Duke would love to have her in their medical program or how Mr. Turner would love to introduce her to his eldest son. Bracing herself, Clarke adjusts the straps of her black dress and turns swiftly on her heels in the direction of the bar. She marches quickly and precisely through the crowd, dodging questions thrown at her from her parent’s nosy coworkers and blocking any wandering hands and ignoring all lust-filled glances from strangers that would love to say they slept with the Griffin’s only daughter.

Nearing her destination, she can see the bar and the myriad of glasses littering its top. She’s so close she can almost taste the alcohol on her lips and feel the familiar burn in her throat from the delicious liquid. She has almost found her way into one of the several stools sat around the bar when something – or rather, someone – catches her eye.

She’s tall with broad shoulders highlighted by the expensive white material of her dress shirt. The fitted material of her black pants hug her hips and give Clarke a lovely view of her toned backside. Her chestnut hair cascades down her back in intricate braids as she stands behind the bar, back turned to the blonde as her gaze flows over the vast amount of alcohol available for tonight’s event. Clarke slides into a stool as she watches one of the brunette’s strong forearms rise up to the top shelf. Long, sinewy fingers wrap around the neck of one of the many bottles. A soft aha slips past the brunette’s lips as she brings the bottle closer for inspection before turning around.

Cerulean blue eyes meet startled verdant.

If Clarke thought the woman was attractive from behind, she certainly wasn’t prepared for how gorgeous she was face to face. The brunette had strong cheekbones and a razor-sharp jawline. Perchance, Clarke’s favorite feature of the woman’s face so far was her pillowy lips that if you looked close enough, had a small singular freckle adorning the top lip. She was absolutely stunning and Clarke now needed that drink more than ever.

The taller of the two women cleared her throat; placing the bottle of what appeared to be cognac on the table before breaking the silence between them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you there. What can I get you?”

Lightly shaking her head to clear her mind of her less than proper thoughts about the bartender Clarke responds, “I uh, I guess I’ll have what you’re having.” The blonde notices the slight twinge of the brunette’s lip as she tries to hide her smirk. She watches patiently as the woman nervously prepares the drinks. The timid shaking in her hands as she filled the crystal glasses pulled at the blonde’s heartstrings.  

“So, what brings you here?” the woman behind the bar asks as she slides the freshly made beverage carefully across the bar top into the seated woman’s hand. At this moment Clarke truly wishes she would’ve taken more time getting ready this evening seeing as though there was still remnants of paint underneath her fingernails from today’s earlier activities.

“To the gala or to the bar?” Clarke asks around the rim of her glass before taking a long drawl of the drink.

“Hmmm, both?” the tan woman asks tipping her drink in the blonde’s direction before taking a swig of the dark brew.

“Well, as for the gala, my parents dragged me here. But, the bar, that was all my own doing. I don’t know if I can listen to another person brag about the size of their yacht one more time without being shit faced.”

“I take it, this isn’t your kind of crowd.”

“No, not at all” the blonde chuckles; her words laced with bitterness.

“Are you telling me that pissing competitions don’t excite you?” the brunette asks jokingly. Her smile growing wider when the woman in front of her rolls her eyes and lets out an exaggerated scoff. The taller woman moves to rest her arms on the bar top as the shorter woman takes another sip of her beverage and tries to ignore the fluttering in her chest. The bartender drags her jade eyes up and down the blonde’s body admiring the generous amount of skin shown by the lowcut dress. The brunette had encountered many types of women this evening but none as intriguing as the one sat before her with beautiful golden locks, ocean blue eyes, and paint-stained hands.

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, what does excite you?” the double meaning of the question is not missed by Clarke who is trying her hardest not to blush at the forwardness of the golden skinned woman. When her mother and father told her about this event tonight it was the absolute last thing she wanted to deal with. She had no desire to attend an event where she was looked down upon and shopped around to all the single bachelors. But now, sitting here, drink in hand, gazing into the warm emerald eyes across from her, she’s starting to not regret making an appearance at this event.

Clarke downs the rest of her drink loving the way it burns her throat in that familiar way before leaning her torso against the bar and muttering, “mmm, why don’t you come out from behind this bar and find out.”

She watches the wheels turn in the nameless woman’s head; contemplating whether or not to take Clarke up on her offer. Undoubtedly trying to decide whether or not she wanted to involve herself in the mess that is the young heiress. But, Clarke is a little tipsy thanks to the free-flowing alcohol at the party and now she’s horny so waiting isn’t an option for the young woman.

“I mean if you’re not up to it I’m sure one of these former frat boys will do.”

The statement flips a switch in the brunette. Whatever reservations she had about hooking up with a stranger at this gala are thrown to the wind. She licks her plump lips in anticipation of what’s to come once she rounds the bar. Thoughts of what she is planning to do to the blonde flood her head causing heat to pool in her stomach. Would she take her in the bathroom or a nearby closet? Maybe they could score a room somewhere in the extravagant hotel. Who knows but, if she doesn’t figure it out soon she might just take her on this very bartop, in front of the ballroom full of guests with prying eyes. Just when she’s about given up on thinking anything out fully she hears the last thing she was expecting.

“Alexandria! What are you doing behind there?” asks the recognizable voice of her mother. The sudden addition of third voice startles the blonde. She turns in the direction of the voice and feels her heart drop to her stomach.

There in all her pristine glory stands Indra Woods. Indra Woods who is the CEO of Woods Inc., the largest company in North America and soon to be the largest company in the world. Indra Woods, whose family has made their money in the oil business and technology and everything else in between. The Woods family is worth billions. The Woods net-worth makes Clarke’s family look penniless – a task most might believe to be impossible.

“Mother, what a surprise seeing you here,” the young brunette, now known as Alexandria, states with a cheeky smile. Her mother didn’t seem to find the scenario as amusing as her daughter.  

“Why are you playing bartender and more importantly why are you bothering this nice young woman?” asks the older ebony skinned woman with a warm smile on her face as she subtly addresses the blonde.

“Oh, no. She wasn’t bothering me, Ms. Woods. We were just chatting about the gala.”

“Please, call me Indra. I was speaking with your parents earlier and they said that you’re an artist, is that correct?” the older woman inquires while Clarke attempts to pay no mind to the green gaze currently pointed in her direction.

“That’s correct ma'am”

“That’s wonderful. We’re thinking of expanding the digital division of the company and we’re looking into recruiting some graphic designers. I’d love to see some of your work and perhaps offer you a job at the company.”

“Oh wow, wow. Um, yes! Yes, I’d love that. Thank you so much.” To say Clarke was shocked would be an understatement. She couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face as she thought about the business woman’s proposition.

“How should I contact you?” asks the excited artist. The Woods matriarch smiles coyly before replying, “I’m sure Lexa can help you with that.” Casting a warning but, all together motherly glance at her daughter as a reminder to behave, Indra politely leaves the two women to continue on with their night.

“When were you gonna tell me you’re an artist?” Lexa asks when the blonde turns back to her. Clarke can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips at the absurdity of the question.

“Excuse me, when were you going to tell me that you’re a Woods? No, actually, when were you going to tell me you don’t work here?” the blonde asks feeling the weight of embarrassment settle on her shoulders as she thinks about how she just assumed the Woods heiress was a part of the waitstaff.

The brunette shrugs her shoulders as she smirks at the flustered woman before her. “I thought we were having fun.”

“I think you have a skewed view of what ‘fun’ is,” the blonde jokes.

“You might be right but, if you’re still looking for some excitement tonight,” Lexa replies, reaching into her pocket and producing a room key to one of the many lavish rooms in the 5-star hotel, “we could have some real fun.”

Clarke stares at the matte black key card perched between two tan fingers contemplating the offer before plucking the small object out of Lexa’s hand and whispering into her ear to grab the bottle of cognac they had previously been indulging in. They were gonna have some fun tonight.      

[talabib]

A Self-Made Millionaire's Path To Financial Independence. 

“Money is the most important thing in the world.” It’s a startling and borderline heretical claim. After all, we’re told time and again that you can’t buy happiness. 

Well, sure – you can’t spend your way to Earthly bliss. But here’s the flipside: poverty is pretty sure to make you miserable. Far from being the root of all evil, money is the most important tool we have to improve our quality of life.  

If you want to look out for the people you love, you’ll need money – the more, the better. Want to spend more time with your kids? Ditto. How about creating time for leisure, reading, going to the theatre and discovering new cultures and countries through travel? You’ll have guessed the answer by now: money.  

That’s the philosophy of Kristy Shen, a self-made millionaire who retired at 31. In this post, we’ll be exploring how she did it. Expect plenty of unashamedly contrarian takes, left-field strategies and novel concepts. More to the point, expect to find a roadmap to wealth creation, debt eradication and financial independence.  

You’re more likely to make sound decisions if you follow the math rather than your passions. 

In 2005, Steve Jobs gave a commencement speech at Stanford University. His advice to the students? “Follow your heart.” That feel-good mantra rippled around the world. Endorsed by the great and good, it soon came to feel commonsensical – why on Earth wouldn’t you follow your passions and do something you love?  Here’s one reason: it’s often the wrong choice.  

Take the often life-defining decision students make every year about what they’re going to study. That was just what Kristy was mulling over back in 2000. She had a shortlist of three possible majors – creative writing, accounting and computer engineering. Her heart told her to go with writing; math told her to go for engineering. Kristy followed the latter’s advice. It was a good call.  

Let’s look at that math. A four-year program in Canada costs about $40,000. Professional writers fall on a spectrum between the unpublished newbie who earns zilch and established pros like Stephen King who earn millions. The average income, however, is $17,000. In 2000, the minimum wage was $6.85 an hour or $14,248 a year. That’s what anyone without a degree could expect to earn, so subtracting that sum from $17,000 told Kristy how much a writing degree was worth: a measly $2,752.   

An accounting degree, by contrast, was worth around $24,000 more than the minimum wage. Computer engineering meanwhile netted you a whopping $40,000 more every year.  

But hold up. You can’t put a price on happiness – surely dreams are worth pursuing whatever the bottom line says, right? Well, not necessarily. After all, if you don’t know where your next meal is coming from, you’re unlikely to wake up excited about your work, especially if it calls for creativity. Passions also change over time; a 2013 study published in Science found that the dreams of nearly all of the 19,000 participants had changed significantly over the previous decade.  

And that’s why it pays to follow the math. Just ask Kristy. Today, she’s a professional writer. The reason she got there is simple: her well-paying engineering job meant she wasn’t reliant on writing to make the rent. Money, in other words, provided her with the foundation which eventually allowed her to pursue her true dream.  

Kristy’s Chinese heritage taught her that debt is a trap to be avoided at all costs.  

Did you know that on average Chinese citizens save 38 percent of their income? Americans, by contrast, squirrel away 3.9 percent of what they earn while the Japanese keep just 2.8 percent for a rainy day. So what’s going on – are the Chinese just inherently frugal?  

Not really. Even before the communists came to power in 1949, corruption was endemic in China. Combine that with the absence of official credit channels like bank loans and you had the makings of a culture which ran on favors. When folks wanted to buy something big, they had a simple choice: take on an onerous personal debt and put themselves in someone else’s power, or save up until they had enough cash to buy it outright. That’s why, historically, debt in China is understood not so much as an “IOU” but an “I own you.”  

If you’re Chinese like Kristy, that history means you’re basically programmed to avoid debt like the plague. But here’s the thing: when you crunch the numbers, it turns out that’s a pretty good attitude to adopt wherever you live.  

Take the Rule of 72, an insight first formulated by a fifteenth-century Italian mathematician called Luca Pacioli. Here’s how it works. To work out how long it takes for your investment to double, divide 72 by the return rate of your investment. So let’s say you’re getting six percent on your $1,000 investment. Seventy-two divided by six equals 12. This last number is the number of years you’ll need in order for that grand to compound into $2,000. Over time, the balance increases. The money you make makes more money. 

If you’re an investor, the Rule of 72 is your friend; if you’re a debtor, it’s your worst enemy. Say you buy a $1,000 TV on credit. Typically, the interest rate will be around 20 percent. Divide 72 by 20 and you get 3.6 – that’s how long it’ll take your debt to double! After seven years, it will have almost quadrupled.  

When you put it like that, the Chinese custom of paying off personal debts during the New Year on pain of being cursed with 12 months of misfortune starts to make a lot of sense. But don’t worry – the idea here isn’t to scare you.  

Consumer debt is a financial crisis which needs to be addressed immediately.  

Debt is a blood-sucking vampire. It bleeds you dry. Worse, it leaves you terrified of the sunlight, trapping you indoors in an endless cycle of work and repayment. If you want financial independence, you’ll have to put a stake through this bad boy’s heart.  

Consumer debt has the highest interest rates, so that’s where you should start. The first thing you’ll need to do is cut your expenses to the bone. It’s painful but essential. As we’ve seen, the Rule of 72 means your debts grow at an ungodly rate. If you’re saddled with a 10 or 20 percent interest rate, there’s no point trying to save or invest your hard-earned cash – there’s no getting in front of debt. Do whatever it takes, whether it’s finding a side hustle, renting out a spare room, or saying “no” to dinners out.  

Next, you’ll need to prioritize how you repay your loans by putting them in order based on interest rate, from highest to lowest. When you’re surrounded by hungry vampires, it’s always a good idea to kill the one with the biggest appetite first. That means paying the minimum monthly repayment on all your cards to avoid defaulting and throwing everything that you don’t need for essentials like rent at the nastiest bloodsucker. Paying off your smallest loan might make you feel good, but you’re not trying to massage your ego here – you’re fighting for your freedom. 

The final step is refinancing your loans. Lots of credit card companies allow you to transfer balances between different cards and pay zero percent interest for a certain amount of time. That’s usually a year. If you’re sure you can use these so-called “grace periods” to pay off a loan completely, use this option. Bear in mind, however, that these companies are gambling on you failing to do so, which will allow them to jack up the interest rate and screw you.  

Remember, trying to gain financial independence while carrying around debt is like running a marathon with a backpack full of bricks – it’ll sap your strength before you’ve even run a mile. If you want to grow your assets, you need to kill that vampire! 

If you want to buy happiness, spend your cash on experiences rather than stuff.  

What does cocaine have to do with shopping? Surprisingly, quite a lot. Understanding that connection holds the key to getting the most out of the money you decide to spend on luxuries.  

But before we get to that, let’s talk about the brain. When something good happens, the “pleasure chemical” dopamine surges through your mesolimbic pathway, essentially your brain’s main highway, to the nucleus accumbens – a kind of dopamine processing plant. A substance like cocaine triggers this surge – but so does splurging on a Gucci handbag. In both cases, the reward is a massive neural high.  

Here’s where it gets interesting. As a 2006 article in the journal NeuroImage demonstrated, the nucleus accumbens doesn’t just react to positive stimuli – it also reacts to the expectation of those stimuli. In other words, pleasure isn’t just about absolute dopamine levels but how much dopamine our brains expect is on the way.  

Unfortunately for cocaine addicts and shopaholics, the brain keeps ratcheting its expectation levels upwards. That’s why people need ever-larger amounts of cocaine and ever-more expensive handbags – they’re forever chasing that unrepeatable first high.  

That means you’re not going to enjoy yourself even if you’re wealthy enough to fund your shopping habits. This might sound like the preamble to an old-fashioned moral lecture about how money can’t buy happiness, but it’s really not. Truth be told, it can. It just boils down to what you’re spending it on.  

Not all spending is created equal; some kinds go further than others. When Kristy started her blog and began receiving emails from her readers, she noticed a trend. The more stuff people owned, the unhappier they were. Folks who owned less and used their money to buy experiences, by contrast, were pretty happy with their lot in life. 

That’s because possessions give you an initial burst of dopamine which fades as your nucleus accumbens acclimatizes. The pleasure that comes with learning new skills or traveling doesn’t fade nearly as quickly. As long as you practice now and again, you’ll always be able to play the piano, and those holiday snaps from Rome will always take you back to that week you spent in the Eternal City with your husband.  

Buying property isn’t the failsafe investment it’s made out to be.   

Lots of folks are cautious about borrowing money, but they usually make one big exception: a mortgage. Conventional wisdom says buying a house isn’t just a rite of passage into adulthood but a wise investment in the future. After all, you can always sell at a profit, right?  

Well, no. In reality, property comes with all sorts of hidden costs. Let’s talk numbers.  According to the US Census Bureau, the average family stays in their home for 9 years. Typically, these families invest in brick and mortar in the expectation that property prices will rise. Historically, that rate rises and falls with inflation, but for simplicity’s sake, let’s assume here that prices increase by a steady 6 percent every year.  

Our family – let’s call them the Smiths – buy their house for $500,000. Add 9 times 6 percent – 9 years at 6 percent inflation – to that and you get $844,739. That leaves a tidy profit of $344,739.  

Not so fast. To buy the property, the Smiths need a title search from the land registry office. That’s $1,000. The title recording fee costs $150. The lawyer who processes those documents charges another grand.  

Then there’s insurance. Rates vary across the US, but 0.5 per cent of the house’s value is pretty common. Paid annually for 9 years, that comes to $22,500. A property tax of 1 percent per annum adds another $45,000 to the bill. Meanwhile, realtors advise setting aside at least one percent of a home’s value every year for maintenance, which is what the Smiths do. That’s another $45,000.  

Selling isn’t cheap either. A commission of 6 percent of the final sale price clocks in at $50,684. The land transfer tax is 1.2 percent, so that’s $10,137. Oh and there’s another lawyer, who also bills for $1,000.  

That brings us to $175,571 – 51 percent of the Smiths’ profit. But we haven’t talked about interest yet. Like most families, the Smiths paid a ten percent down payment in cash and borrowed the rest from their bank. Over 9 years, they have paid $162,033 in interest.  

That’s a whopping 98 percent of the sale price. And remember, we started by assuming that the value of the Smiths’ house would grow by 6 percent every year. That’s well above the actual inflation rate in the US, which is about 2 percent. In the real world, the Smiths would have lost money! 

Use the “Rule of 150” to decide whether to buy a house or use your money for something else. 

 We crunched the numbers and saw that the cost of buying, owning and selling a house outweighed the returns in the case of a fictional American family. The moral of the story, however, isn’t that you should never buy a house – it’s that you need to work out if that’s a good call in your situation.  

Ask a realtor and they’ll swear it’s all very simple. If the monthly mortgage payment equals the rent on a similar house or apartment, you’re better off buying rather than giving your money to a landlord. Look more closely, however, and you’ll find it’s a little more complicated.  

That’s where the Rule of 150 comes in. This is a tool to help you compare the true cost of owning a home with what you would be saving by not renting. Here’s how it works: 

Over the first 9 years of a standard 30-year mortgage, only about 50 percent of your payments go towards the actual loan; paying off interest on that loan accounts for the other 50 percent. Now, additional ownership costs like maintenance and insurance are roughly equal to the interest on a standard mortgage during those first 9 years, so that’s another 50 percent. So to calculate your actual monthly payments, you’ll need to multiply your monthly mortgage payment by 150 percent. 

That’s how much your home will actually cost per month once you’ve accounted for all your expenses. So say you’re looking at a monthly mortgage bill of $1,500. When you multiply that by 150 percent, you get your true cost – $2,250. If your Rule of 150 monthly cost is higher than your rent, it makes sense to stick it out in the rental market; if it’s lower, you might want to think about buying.  

When Kristy first considered buying a house, she was living in Toronto, Canada’s most expensive city. Prices were out of control and one-person apartments were going for a million dollars apiece. After applying the Rule of 150, she quickly realized that there was no way she was going to be able to buy her own home.  

That opened an unexpected can of worms. If she wasn’t going to blow her savings on property, what was she going to do with that nest egg?

Index investing is less risky than betting on individual companies.  

The American business guru Robert Kiyosaki once remarked that poor people buy stuff, the middle class buys houses and rich people buy investments. What he meant is that rich people put their money into things that make them more money. But you don’t have to be a multi-millionaire to follow their lead.  

Broadly speaking, there are two ways of investing. The first is to do what Wall Street whizzes do – spend a ton of cash on research and fancy algorithms to pick the best companies. The second variant is cheaper, simpler and, most importantly, less risky.  

That’s called index investing. Think of it as betting on the casino rather than individual horses. It doesn’t matter who wins the race – the house always makes money. Let’s unpack that.  

An index is a list of companies ranked by market capitalization, or the overall value of their public shares. When you invest in an index, you’re effectively betting on every one of those listed firms. Because the index contains the stock of multiple high-performing companies, a single failure won’t wipe you out. The only way you can go bust is if every name on your index simultaneously files for bankruptcy.  

That’s highly unlikely. Why? Well, index investing has an elegant built-in barometer. If a company is worth more, the index automatically picks up more shares in that company, and vice versa. If a tech giant releases a world-beating smartphone and its stock soars, the index buys more shares. If a car company runs into trouble and their stock plummets, the index dumps shares. And when a company drops in value from number 500 to number 501, it’s kicked off the index entirely.  

This is a highly intuitive way of gauging the stock market as a whole, which is why major indexes like the S&P 500 – a list of the 500 biggest companies – work like this.  

Index investing is also good for your wallet. The simplicity of the concept means there’s no need to pay for a hands-on fund manager. In the US, for example, a typical index fund charges fees of just 0.04 percent – 25 times lower than what you’d pay for an actively managed fund. The sales commission? $0. If you ever want to see your bank manager sweat, head to your local branch and ask to have your savings put into index funds! 

Early retirement doesn’t depend on how much you make – it’s all about how much you save.  

Chances are you’ve idly daydreamed about early retirement. Most folks quickly shelve that idea when they take a look at their bank balance, though. If you’re not raking it in, you just can’t afford to stop working before your mid-sixties, right?   

Wrong. Your time to retirement doesn’t depend on how much you earn but how much you save. If you’re making and spending a million bucks a year, you’re entirely dependent on your job and won’t ever be able to retire. If you make $40,000 a year and spend $30,000, on the other hand, you already have a healthy savings rate of 25 percent.  

The “normal” retirement age is 65 because most people save between five and ten percent of their salaries and have investment portfolios yielding an average of six to seven percent annually. Plug those numbers into a spreadsheet and you’re looking at 40 to 45 years of work.  

The way to reduce that time is to up how much you’re saving. This does two things. Firstly, it cuts your living expenses, which in turn cuts the size of your target portfolio – the amount of cash you’ll need to retire. Secondly, it pumps more money into that portfolio. Think of it as a race: you’re moving the finish closer while also running faster. Even relatively small changes have a big impact. Boosting your savings rate from ten to 15 percent, for example, shaves 5 years off your working life!  

Still not convinced? Well, okay, let’s take a look at the case of a fictional couple we’ll call Paul and Jillian. Together, their annual earnings come to $62,175. That’s the median family income in the US. Deduct 15.2 percent for taxes and you’re left with $52,724.40.   

Now imagine Paul and Jillian decided to turbocharge their savings rate. They rent a small apartment in an affordable city, cook at home and use car-sharing services like Zipcar. All in all, they pay $40,000 to cover their costs and put $12,724.40 into their portfolio every year.  

Let’s lowball the interest rate they’re getting on that and say it’s 6 percent. Even if they never get promotions or better-paying jobs, Paul and Jillian would have a million dollars in 30 years. If they started at 24, they could retire at 54 – 11 years ahead of schedule! 

Reducing the size of your target portfolio makes early retirement more manageable.  

How much do you need to save to retire early? That’s exactly what researchers asked in a landmark study published in the investment journal AAII in 1998.  

They used stock market data to simulate what would happen to a group of fictional retirees who withdrew different percentages of their portfolios every year after retirement. Would “Alan,” for example, make it over the line or run out of cash if he withdrew 10 percent of his $500,000 nest egg every year?  

Here’s the answer: Your portfolio is self-sustaining when your annual living expenses are no greater than 4 percent of its total value. Economists call that a safe withdrawal rate. This number allows you to determine the size of your target portfolio – simply multiply your annual expenses by 25. If you need $40,000 a year, you’re looking at a $1,000,000 portfolio. 

That’s a lot of cash, right? Sure, but don’t let that put you off – there are also alternative strategies. Take partial financial independence. This gives you the benefits of financial independence, such as flexibility and having more free time, and it’s achievable with a smaller portfolio.  

Say you earn the US median family income of $62,175 and need $40,000 a year to cover your living costs. If you shift to part-time work and earn $28,000 after tax, you’ll have an annual shortfall of $12,000 in your budget. Multiply that number by 25 and you have your new target portfolio – $300,000. Save that amount and you can enter semi-retirement! 

Then there’s geographic arbitrage. This is the idea that you can earn income in a country with a strong currency like Germany or the US and retire in a country with a weaker currency like Mexico or Thailand. When Kristy and her husband Bryce visited Vietnam, for example, they realized that you can live a luxurious life there for around $1,130 a month.  

If you’re earning the local average salary of $150 a month, that’s unaffordable; if you’re earning the average US monthly salary, however, it’s well within your reach. So what does your target portfolio look like now? Multiply $1,130 by 12, which gives you $13,560. Then multiply that by 25 and you have $339,000. 

So there you have it – a ton of tricks to help launch your journey to financial independence. All you have to do now is ask yourself a simple question. What’s more important – accumulating expensive things or your freedom? Answer that honestly and your money decisions will become clear. 

Getting a handle on your finances comes down to one basic principle: follow the math. That means ignoring feel-good advice like choosing to study a subject you love rather than one that will bring in a salary you can actually live on. It also means bucking social trends if they’re not right for you. Crunch the numbers and you might just discover that you’re better off investing your savings in the stock market rather than buying a house and saddling yourself with a lifetime of debt. Why? Well, if you’re growing your money while avoiding ruinous interest rates, you’re setting yourself up for financial independence. And that means you’re one step closer to the ultimate dream: early retirement.  

Action plan: Make invisible waste visible. 

Consumerism promises happiness but it’s usually little more than a temporary fix. What it does generate is waste. A lot of waste. Take clothing. According to the Guardian, Americans throw away 11 million tons of clothes every year. So here’s how to eliminate waste in your own wardrobe: make it visible. Simply push all the clothes in your closet to the left, and place an empty hanger with a piece of masking tape in the middle. Everything you wear from now on goes on the right of the marked hanger after it’s been washed. Over time, this reveals how often you use different items. On the right, are the superstars of your wardrobe; in the middle, pieces you do wear but infrequently; and on the left, clothes you never take out at all – the waste.  

[halaltequila]

What are you favorite drugstore makeup products? Ones that actually work, please lol. I feel like I might as well spend all my money on high end because I don't know what's worth it or not when I'm at target or walmart.

darling, i feel you. some of the products are such rubbish, and no matter what i do, i sometimes end up with all my makeup sinking into my pores and clinging to dry skin. 

however!- my makeup collection is mostly drugstore and there are some products i personally find to be quite good: 

maybelline instant age rewind dark circles concealer 

i don’t know about age rewinding, but a lot of times this is the only thing i use all over my face (like an animal and not just for my under eyes like i’m supposed-but it works) besides a primer and color green corrector (see below)

http://www.target.com/p/maybelline-instant-age-rewind-eraser-dark-circles-concealer-treatment/-/A-50042372

nyx green cc cream:

reviews vary on this, but it works really well for me, especially because it doesn’t just actually blur red/black/brown/purple spots (yes, i got it all), but also has some light coverage. during the times where my skin is fairly behaving: this, a primer, and the maybelline concealer are all i use for my face 

http://www.ulta.com/green-cc-cream?productId=xlsImpprod12011199

rimmel stay matte powder: 

admittedly, i haven’t used setting powder in, like, eons, but it does exactly as it says it will-sets your foundation and keeps you decently matte (even if you’re an oil producing machine like me). side note-i will be trying to reincorporate powder and try the maybelline fit me powder so i can compare it with this one, but everyone usually agrees that this is probably the best drugstore setting powder. also, it’s under $4. 

http://www.target.com/p/rimmel-stay-matte-powder/-/A-17210301

maybelline brow drama sculpting brow mascara:

disclaimer: this probably only works well if you’ve got decently thick brows in the first place. my brows are pretty thick as it is, so, if they’ve been recently done, i usually just use a little to set them and fill any sparse places in the end. once they start growing out, (i can’t really afford get them done as fast as they grow and at some point they’re too much for me to do on my own), using this literally gives them shape and tames the brow hairs since mine tend to grow long. it does sometimes dry like a light hair gel, but i can’t complain since at least my brows between threading stay in place. 

http://www.target.com/p/maybelline-eye-studio-brow-drama-sculpting-mascara/-/A-16675000

e.l.f moisturizing lipstick:

honestly? there’s nothing but good things to say about this product, especially when you consider the cost and how well it works. it’s one of my favorite lipsticks: smells great, the formula’s pretty darn good, creamy, opaque, and it literally costs $3. it’s not matte or a liquid lipstick or anything though, so if you’re using your mouth (in godly and ungodly ways), you’d need touch ups (though i’ve used more expensive lipsticks that were worse despite costing double or more)

http://www.target.com/p/e-l-f-moisturizing-lipstick/-/A-51169576

pixi rose oil blend:

oh my dear, i just bought this at target today-only a few hours ago, as we speak-and i already love it? it feels heavenly on the skin and smells delightful! i can’t attest to how well it works yet, but i know it’s the perfect lower cost oils (that aren’t diy) that can mimic what you see experts using it for on instagram or whatnot-whether as a moisturizer, in foundation, or to make contouring products easier to buff (i don’t contour regularly though). a little goes a long way, so it will last, but it’s also the most expensive thing at $24.

http://www.target.com/p/pixi-by-petra-rose-oil-blend-1-01-oz/-/A-49128224

l.a. pro conceal corrector set 

in all fairness, i haven’t really tried other correctors besides these, but all three come for under $9 on amazon and they seem to really work. i usually only use the green one, but the orange is also good (haven’t tried the peach one). i have no complaints with them, and i’ve heard even professionals swear by them so give ‘em a try!

https://www.amazon.com/L-Girl-Conceal-Orange-Correctors/dp/B00XPW9IHQ?th=1

maybelline color tattoo eye shadow: 

probably the best long wear eyeshadow in the industry, and i’d even say it beats most of high end eyeshadows ( i use “nude pink” as a base for my tarte tartelette tease pallete since it has so much fall out despite being “clay infused”). it does not budge. besides using the nude as a base, i used another navy shimmer one for my lids during a bachelorette party and it was perfect when i got home at like midnight/one in the morning. i do find it a bit hard to blend my other eyeshadow if i use it as a base, so i’d guess it makes more complicated looks harder to blend too (i wouldn’t know since i’ve never gotten that wild with them)

http://www.target.com/p/maybelline-eye-studio-color-tattoo-24hr-eyeshadow/-/A-13896462

milani bella eyes gel powder eyeshadow:

i just recently started using this after finding an endless amount of them at various 99 cent stores. i’m going to just guess that they’re being discontinued, and if you can’t find them at the dollar store, they’re online for $5. when i swatched them, they literally felt like velvet (i.e. “gel powder”). i’ve used them a couple of times and so far so good. they’re really pigmented and easy to blend-haven’t worn them long enough to test how long they can endure 

http://milanicosmetics.com/Bella-Eyes-Gel-Powder-Eyeshadow.html

wet n wild color icon lipliner:

they’re 99 cents, they’re pretty lengthy for a lipliner (which equates to more product), they last decently long, and are pretty opaque. i sometimes use them in lieu of lipstick and it looks perfectly fine, if not better than a lot of other lipstick brands.

http://www.cvs.com/shop/beauty/makeup/lips/wet-n-wild-coloricon-lip-liner-pencil-prodid-1040076

dupes and other things: 

beauty blenders:

 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B017Y9LEVS/ref=twister_B017XRL628?_encoding=UTF8&th=1  (2 for under $15)

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01FEPTH2C?psc=1 (highly rated & under $10)

brushes: 

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00I3VHKVK/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o00_s00?ie=UTF8&th=1 (all for the face and concealing and pretty dense. i’ve only had two fall off the handle, and once they were glued-worked like a charm. 10 pieces for $10)

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01H51KLZA/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o02_s01?ie=UTF8&psc=1 (12 pieces for $11, includes eye, lip, fan, and liner brushes. haven’t fallen off so far)

http://www.elfcosmetics.com/makeup/tools (quality corresponds with price. the $1/$2 aren’t dense, at all to be honest, but i do love the $1 eye shadow blending brush and use it the most for blending eyeshadows when i have time to do that)

for the record, my skin is pretty oily (not my eyelids, brows, or under eye area thankfully-say masha’Allah) with really small dry patches on areas where i have acne, dark marks, or cystic spots. i also have big pores and blackheads, so usually i just try to find something that works with everything i’m cursed with.

i haven’t included mascaras or foundations, because i frankly haven’t found specific brands i would repurchase and i’m still experimenting-it’s also really subjective. i have three bottles of drugstore foundation i need to go through before testing out others. my current favorite foundation and the mascara i’m just about satisfied with are both high end, unfortunately.

honestly, i feel kind of bad for even trying to give makeup advice because i look like shite 90% of the time (especially my skin; it’s that bad, love)and should just really stay in my lane. but i really do hope it helps and that these products work for you, too.

[nighthood]

Growing Up - Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You and Jason have a little girl, and watch her grow together. She is sassy and has a surprising amount of toddler drama...and candy fights. Fluffy af. Relationship: Jason Todd x reader Warnings: none

Here is the second part of I Think I’m In Love! I will put a link to it below, and prompts are open for either this arc or for any ideas:) More to come! (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Every night Jason would cuddle you and put a hand on your growing tummy. He would bring you books to read and even read ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ with you. The best thing was when you’d call him while on patrol at 3 am.

Jason would always answer no matter what, even if he was in the middle of battle. Sometimes you could hear whoever he was fighting ask him who he’s talking to.

“What’s up? You okay? Baby okay?” He’d ask. You’d always laugh because it was always the same.

“No I’m not okay! I’m craving chocolate truffles and a cheeseburger with avocado from the diner on 5th. Babe, could you be a dear…”

You’d hear him sigh then say “Anything for you, doll.”

The perks of having a husband that fights crime at ungodly hours.

He was in the delivery room with you when you gave birth, and you decided to have a natural birth. Nothing could have prepared you.

No stab wounds, gunshot wounds, punches to the face, nothing could have prepared you for this pain.

You gripped Jason’s hand so hard you thought you broke it, and you had screamed so loudly you gave Black Canary a run for her money. While you were in the process of giving birth, Jason watched as your baby was born with wonder and a little terror. It made his stomach a little uneasy, but lucky for you Tim hacked the cameras in the room so you’d be able to look at Jason’s scared shitless face when this was all over.

Your daughter was born happy and healthy, and you both decided to name her Katelyn Rose.

Adjusting to life with a baby was hard, and Jason was going on fewer and fewer patrols to be a dad. Overtime you and him gained dark circles under your eyes and relied more on coffee than you ever had before. Thank god for Tim giving you the best coffee out there. Kid knew his stuff.

During the night when the baby woke up crying you and Jason would argue over whose turn it was to help her constantly.

“It’s your turn, Jay.”

“No, I went last time. It’s your turn.”

“No, I went last time, liar!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Well rock paper scissors, loser has to go.”

“Jason! Go!”

But overall it was amazing watching Katelyn grow. Jason was caring as ever and spoiled the little girl endlessly. Her hair was growing in a black shade similar to Jason’s, plus she had his eyes. It made your husband light up whenever he looked at her.

One of your favorites was when Katelyn got fussy and wouldn’t stop crying. Jason would pick her up and hold her slightly in front of him. “Katie, stop.”

She’d continue and he’d begin mimicking her cries. Then she’d stop and begin laughing. When he stopped, she’d start again and it was an endless cycle. You got it on video once and sent it straight to your sister and Dick.

The most annoying part was all the parenting advice coming from everyone you knew. Your mother breathed down your neck and scolded you for things like letting the baby watch Cops with you and Jason. The other tough part was protecting Katie from Jason’s siblings and making sure Dick didn’t try to teach her to walk on a damn tightrope.

Through time Katelyn grew and you were able to go back on patrols like the good ol’ times, leaving the baby with one her many uncles or aunts. Jason and you were able to spend time together like the years earlier and it made you smile with glee. Sitting next to him on the tallest skyscraper in Gotham and watching the sunrise with him hugging you tightly was something you missed.

What you weren’t expecting from being a parent were all the emotions that came with the milestones. You called Jason at work one day crying hysterically and nearly gave Jason a heart attack when Katelyn went to the bathroom all by herself for the first time.

Jason was more emotional than you expected, too. The worst was her first day of school.

“Honey, you’re gonna have an amazing first day!” you said to her after snapping a picture of her walking into the nursery school. She was wearing a blue denim dress with sewn rainbow flowers, and you had put little curls in her dark hair with a pink headband. She looked absolutely adorable.

“Daddy loves you, and Katie, be on the lookout for bullies. Don’t put up with that shi-- stuff, sweetheart. You do what daddy told you if you find any bullies!” Jason said as you all made it to the classroom, correcting his cursing after you elbowed him in the stomach. He gripped your hand tighter as Katelyn waved goodbye to both of you and gave you each a quick hug. Jason and you said your goodbyes and began to walk out of the small school.

Jason ran a nervous hand through his hair as he exhaled loudly. Sure you were upset your little girl was gone and growing up, but you were excited for her to start school and make new friends besides little Lian Harper.

Jason, on the other hand, was a complete wreck.

As you both walked hand in hand back to the house, the school was only a few blocks away, he looked at you with a nervous look. “Maybe she’s not ready for school. I’ll go right now and pick her up and we can try school next year.”

“Jason Peter Todd, don’t you dare. She is perfectly fine, now go inside and have a drink, you’re a mess.”

You did not expect Jason to spend the day on the couch holding your daughter’s favorite Batman bear and watching home videos of Katelyn through the years. You shook your head as Jason teared up. The big bad Red Hood was not good at coping.

Through time Jason let go and Katie began to grow into a sassy little girl. She was manipulative, too. She once convinced Jason to let her put makeup on him, and guess whose expensive makeup was completely destroyed by the end of that day.

She was a great student, and she even began dancing with some of her friends outside of school. Sometimes she’d spend the day at the manor and have Damian teach her different fighting styles, too. Your little girl was well rounded like her parents.

Katelyn would force you both to watch Lady and the Tramp twice a day, then once she got into princesses it got worse. She loved The Little Mermaid and would make you and Jason sing the songs all the time. Her favorite though was watching it with her Uncle Dick and Auntie Barbara because she thought they looked like Prince Eric and Ariel. She once asked if you could make her hair red like Ariel’s and cried for two hours when you said no.

Your favorite moments were the ones when you got to see your little girl spend time with either you or Jason. She loved going to the mall with you, and would be patient as you shopped for yourself. You’d always buy her a soft pretzel, and she’d tell you about things at school.

“Johnny yelled at Miss Green the other day.”

“Oh, really? And what did Miss Green do?”

“She told him he had to go to time out and he had no recess with us.”

“Wow, that’s why you’ve gotta behave in class, baby.” You held her hand as you entered the Children’s Place to buy her new pants. “Anything else?”

You looked down to see your daughter put on a thoughtful face, and you could tell she was having an internal debate. “Well, maybe…”

“What is it?”

Katelyn nervously squished her pretzel a little with her thumb and index finger before answering. “The other day playing house Michael kissed my cheek.”

You looked down to see nervous bright blue eyes, and you had a growing smirk on your face that you were failing to hide. “Really? And you didn’t tell mommy or daddy?”

“Don’t tell daddy!” She yelled quickly. You just chuckled, more than prepared to share this news with Jason. And record his reaction.

“I think you should definitely tell daddy, Katie.”

“I don’t know, won’t he be mad?”

“He’ll be more mad you didn’t tell him. Trust me, it’ll be okay, baby.”

Later while eating dinner, Jason asked about your day, and you looked to your daughter.

“Something to share, princess?” Jason asked, looking at Katie’s nervous face.

“I have to tell you something, daddy.” Katie began.

“Uh huh…” Jason looked to you expectantly, and you just glanced down to Katelyn with a grin.

“The other day Michael kissed me on the cheek.”

Jason put his fork down on his plate and straightened immediately, looking between you and your daughter. You were trying and failing to desperately hold in your laugh.

Finally he stopped on you as you covered your mouth with your hand in an attempt to pull yourself together. “You told me we wouldn’t have to deal with this until she’s older!” He finally exclaimed.

You finally let the laugh out, and Jason looked at you incredulously. Thankfully, Katie was less nervous and began laughing, too.

“Hey, this isn’t funny, little lady. Don’t listen to mommy. You’re too young to be kissing boys!”

“He kissed me, daddy!” Katie stopped laughing and glared at Jason, something definitely inherited from his side of the family.

“You tell me next time so I can talk to Michael.”

“Daddy, you’re being silly.” Katie looked to you and you just smirked at how grown up your daughter sounded at the moment. You really didn’t expect any of this to happen so soon in her life.

Needless to say, Jason had a crisis over how fast she was growing up that night, and spent a few hours on patrol to clear his head.

You loved seeing your daughter spend time with Jason, too.

Coming home from work one day, you found Katelyn and Jason playing Candy Land on the floor.

Except the pieces were scattered all over the floor and the two were having a candy fight across the room.

An M&M hit you between your eyes and you glared at your husband who was hiding behind the couch across the room and sent you an evil smirk. You looked to your daughter, who was dressed in one of her princess outfits with the crown and little blue heels next to her as she knelt behind the arm chair with a pile of jolly ranchers, M&Ms, and sweetarts on her other side.

You sighed as you ran a hand over your face. “You know, I don’t think this is how you play Candy Land.”

“Mommy! Daddy is Gloppy from the game and we need to stop him!” Katelyn waved you over to her little hideout, and you knelt down next to her, giving her a little kiss on the forehead.

“Hand me a jolly rancher, honey.” She handed you a blue raspberry one, and you held it as you waited for Jason to show his face again.

“Come on, Gloppy, come on out. I just wanna talk.” You said as you waited to get your revenge hit on Jason.

“No! I know you’re gonna hit me, you have good aim, [Y/N].”

“Jason, come out here right now before I make you clean this place up yourself.”

His head peaked out slightly and you could see the little white streak in his hair. Before you could throw your piece of candy, a sweetart flew across the room and hit Jason on the forehead.

“Got him!” Katelyn cried. “We got the monster!”

Jason appeared from behind the couch, and scooped up Katelyn who shrieked with laughter. “You think I’m gonna let that fly, little girl?” He plopped her on the couch and began tickling her, making her cry out with laughter.

“Da-daddy! St-stop!!” She got out between breaths and laughs. He stopped and sat beside her, letting her catch her breathe, but occasionally poked her in the side, making her twist and laugh.

“Daddy, if you don’t stop I’m gonna mess up your bed.”

Jason faked being shocked. “You wouldn’t!”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I would.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

At that she ran off toward your bedroom and you could hear her laughing as she jumped on the bed and more than likely began throwing your pillows and blankets all over the room. You giggled as Jason walked over to you and gave you a quick kiss before running upstairs to the bedroom. Hearing another little scream and more laughing you shook your head and waited for Jason to come back and clean up the house.