#id literally only wear mascara on the first day of school and that was it

[radenshogun]

im 90% sure if i didn't love to sleep as much as i do i'd have started wearing makeup everyday back in high school and then today i'd be super dependent on it and dysmorphic about my own face. but since i'd rather die than wake up one (1) minute before i need to that didn't happen

[oureuphoria]

Worst of You - JJK 08

You meet him under horrible circumstances but everything feels perfect when you’re with him. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. He, however, is a police officer with years worth of built-up turmoil and an inability to make attachments. Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X  collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2,304

Note: Things get sad in this chapter and :( 

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 

Jungkook was confused. He was confused about how you had gotten in, who you were with and more importantly, why you were here when this seemed to be the last place you’d want to be. In spite of his confusion Jungkook knew that to his knowledge you were still 20 and definitely underage, so it was his legal obligation to check up on you. It was definitely not because he wanted to talk to you, just following procedure.

“What are you doing here?” You hadn’t noticed Jungkook sit next to you until he spoke but you refused to spare him a glance. You were worried that was all it would take, one look at his wide brown eyes that seemingly held the universe and you’d be putty in his hands. “None of your business.“ “When you’re underage it is.” “It’s my birthday, officer.” You threw your ID card to him which he checked meticulously. You snatched the card out of his hands after he’d had a good look and hopped off the stool. 

“If you don’t mind, I have to go back to Jimin.” Just as you are about to walk away from him, Jungkook lightly grabs your hand. “Wait.” You turned back around to face him but expertly avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t much but it was all Jungkook could fathom and yet both of you knew, it wasn’t enough. You gave him a small smile before you replied, one that seemed more sad than polite. “Yeah, me too.” And with that, you walked away, shoving Jungkook and his ridiculously beautiful face to the back of your mind.

“Jimin!” You had finally found your friend who hadn’t been even half as happy to see you as you were him. “Y/N, I know it’s your birthday and I promised I’d be with you but the most gorgeous boy is here and I really need a hook-up. If you’re not okay with it I understand but-” “Go! At least one of us has to get lucky tonight.” You waved him off and he retaliated with a bone-crushing hug. “I love you so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Whether that promise was empty or not, you were going to hold him to it because letting him abandon you in this club all alone is definitely a sizeable sacrifice. 

You walked back to the bar where you were relieved to see that Jungkook had left. Against your better judgement, your eyes subconsciously scanned around for him and when you saw him, dancing and having the time of his life while you were there following in self-pity, you realised you definitely needed another drink. 

Perhaps it was your lack of experience or your Jungkook-induced sadness or even your empty stomach but you were drunk. Only 2 drinks in and you had completely lost all sense of rationality. Unfortunately, the bartender was unaware of just how much of a lightweight you were and proceeded to provide you with the tequila shots you weren’t sure why you asked for. 

They tasted horrible and after downing two, you realised you never wanted to drink one again but for the first time in a long time, you had felt entirely carefree. It was nice, for the blissful moment it lasted but when your eyes had landed on Jungkook again, this time sitting at a bar next to some girl who was definitely prettier than you, carefree had turned into careless and you were making your way over there before you could process it. 

“Hi, I’m sorry but I really need to speak to him.” Giving the poor girl no time to reply, you had dragged Jungkook towards the end of the bar where there were far less people and the music was softer. “You, sir, are an asshole.” In between your words, you had made the honourable decision to jab Jungkook in the chest continuously. Drunk you believed you were emphasising your point, sober you would’ve cowered at the mere mention of such an action. 

“Are you drunk, Y/N? Where’s your friend?” “He left me for someone prettier, everyone keeps doing that to me these days…” You pouted as you strayed completely off topic and tears began welling in your eyes. You were an emotional drunk, you found that out the hard way. “I’m taking you home.” “No! I still haven’t finished.” Jungkook sighed in frustration and motioned for you to continue, the girl at the bar was long forgotten and Jungkook didn’t even care. 

“Why are you such a liar?” The waterworks had begun and while it was obvious you weren’t entirely competent, Jungkook felt the sting in his heart all the same. “Please, baby don’t cry.” “Don’t call me that. Stop making me think you care when you clearly don’t and next time grow the balls to say you don’t like me you jerk!” Your words were slurred and your delivery was a little off but Jungkook heard you loud and clear. He wanted to explain, he wanted to wipe your tears away and reassure you that he was enamoured by you, he adored you and wanted nothing more than to be by your side. But you were probably too drunk to remember and it was too late to try. 

“I’m sorry, just stop crying, please.” You tried and you weren’t sure why. The pain in Jungkook’s voice had hurt you and even while drunk, you’d do anything to make that pain go away. So you stifled your tears to the best of your ability, the only thing left behind were tear stains and your quiet hiccups. “Good job, now let me take you home.”

Jungkook didn’t expect you to fall asleep in his car, but then again he also didn’t expect you to berate him at a club. “Y/N, baby, wake up.” You were a light sleeper, he knew that much, which was why he was shaking you softly. You fidgeted in his seat a little before opening your eyes ever so slightly. “I’m sleeping, go away.” Drunk, sleepy Y/N was a challenge Jungkook didn’t know how to face. He also didn’t know how he was going to get you inside or whether or not you had your keys and going through your bag felt like a violation of your privacy so Jungkook decided to take you to his apartment instead.

When you woke up the next morning, something felt off. Your bed was never silk and you never remembered it being this big. You flailed your hand around for your plushie and when you had opened your eyes, you jolted upright in shock. That action was instantly regretful because of the pounding headache you had suddenly gotten and your wincing had captured Jungkook’s attention. 

He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a tight grey t-shirt that left scarcely anything to the imagination. If you weren’t dying from a migraine you might’ve appreciated the view but all you could think about was this numbing pain. “There’s aspirin on the table and a glass of water.” You nodded, reaching for your knight in shining armour as you consumed the medication. 

“Do you remember anything?” You remembered everything but you wanted to spare yourself the shame so you kept silent. “I tried to take you to your apartment but you fell asleep so I-” “I understand. Thank you, I hope I didn’t cause too much of an inconvenience.” You had began wandering around the room, collecting your belongings so you could leave as quickly as possible but Jungkook didn’t want that. “Y/N, slow down. I’ll give you something to change into, that dress can’t be comfortable.” He was right, it wasn’t. But neither was this predicament and every second you spent there was a second spent remembering the night you’d rather forget. You never drinking, ever again. 

Jungkook had come back from raiding his closet with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “You can change in the bathroom. Come down and eat breakfast and then I promise I’ll take you home.” “I don’t need to eat.” You shook your head, even tried rejecting the clothing but Jungkook had dropped it into your arms. “Unless you want to puke for 3 hours I suggest you get changed and come down to eat.” You rolled your eyes but complied nonetheless. 

You looked up at your reflection and you were a mess, your makeup was inconsistent, you were assuming it was because of the tears. Luckily, you didn’t wear mascara and after washing your face and tying up your hair, you started to look like yourself again. Jungkook’s clothing, which seemed to engulf your figure, had smelt nice and felt soft. You didn’t want to get used to it so you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind and left the room. 

You could see the stairs clearly from where you were standing so finding the kitchen was straightforward enough. Jungkook was seated on the island, phone in hand with two plates of what looked like omelettes. Jungkook had looked up at the soft patter of your feet and smiled. “You look good in my clothes.” You mumbled a quiet thank you and hopped onto the high chair that was surprisingly comfortable. “You want coffee?” You shook your head and poked around your omelette, you were never a big fan of eggs but you’d never complain. 

“Fuck Y/N, I can’t take this, please talk to me.” You wanted to but you’d already said all you wanted to say yesterday (rather harshly) and you didn’t feel like repeating yourself. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He sighed and got up to pour himself a cup of coffee, when he had returned, you had already eaten a third of your omelette. “Can we go now?” “Can you listen to my explanation first?” You nodded timidly, you wanted an explanation desperately but you were also scared of the truth. That he didn’t like you and never did. 

“My first ever love was in high school. She was my senior, I was a year younger and infinitely less experienced, but that didn’t stop me.” You both laughed, knowing that Jungkook was stubborn when he wanted to be. “She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that took time to truly process, she was smart, book smart at least and she was kind to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it. We dated for just over a year, it was nearing my graduation when she passed away. Car accident, drunk driver. Instead of getting the justice she deserved, her parents who barely had a dollar to their name were forced to settle for the equivalent of a used Toyota. The girl who hit her was old money rich, her family had connections with the best defence attorneys in the world. The lawyers she hired, put a price on a person I loved, they tried to tell me how much her life was worth and it wasn’t generous.”

Jungkook wasn’t crying, but you were. You knew the world was cruel but growing up in a middle-income family in a peaceful neighbourhood truly shielded you from a lot of life’s challenging aspects and knowing this had happened to a girl, just like you, really shattered your heart. You felt even worse trying to imagine how Jungkook had felt and how horrible the situation was in general. “I pursued law enforcement for her. She’s the reason I’m where I am today. I’m not asking for your pity, or excusing my actions but I want you to understand. Every time I start falling in love with someone, I pull away because no matter how tough I look, I can’t deal with loss.”

“I thought pushing you away would protect myself and that was incredibly selfish, and I’m sorry. I thought that I could do this, that’s why I confessed but the moment I was alone with my thoughts again, I realised I couldn’t. But for you, I’m willing to try. I’ll put everything I have into this, all I ask is that you forgive me for the colossal asshole I’ve been lately.” Jungkook held your hands in his and you giggled through the tears after he’d insulted himself and Jungkook felt his heart swell at you. 

“Alright but from now on, just give me the worst of you and we’ll deal with it together.” “Deal.” Jungkook inched closer to you, his hands cupped your face as he wiped the remnants of your tears. With your faces barely a centimetre apart, you could really see the pain in his eyes and all you wanted to do was kiss it away. So you did. Dragging his head down by his neck, you gave Jungkook a soft kiss on the lip that barely lasted a second but he needed more. 

Jungkook had opted to rest one of his hands on the back of your stool, the other on your cheek as he kissed you deeper. “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.” Jungkook whispered out in-between kisses. “Nap with me and I’ll forgive you.” Jungkook chuckled before placing one last peck on your lips. He wrapped your legs around his torso and lifted you up smoothly. You squealed in shock but Jungkook ignored it, his mind solely on getting you back in his bed. You really did nap, and you enjoyed it quite a bit, after all his arms were the comfiest pillow.

[barnesandco]

Nikah: March

Story Masterlist

Nikah: noun, Arabic, meaning the contract of marriage.

Bucky marries Peter’s former tutor because her student visa’s about to expire and the government isn’t granting her a green card. Can she find a way to permanent residence by marriage, and if so, will it be at the cost of their hearts?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Written under the Arranged/Accidental Marriage trope for @mermaidxatxheart​ ‘s writing challenge. Thank you all for reading and commenting! (Picture below is mine, btw)

Bucky’s birthday arrives amidst blooming flowers and a pollen-scented breeze, the day marked by preparations for a party Sam is throwing for him at one of the hotels downtown. Avengers and close friends only, yet he’s spared no expense, insisting on a proper welcome back. The captain is unrelenting in matters of social activity, especially since he has been spending minimal time with his teammates since his marriage. Marriage. He shakes his head at himself in the floor length mirror as he straightens his cuff-links and moonlight catches on the gold band on his finger. It no longer feels like a burden.

Rather, it’s a seed that’s been planted on him, and it’s taken root inside him, growing, growing, growing into a steady feeling of friendship with the person he wears it for. An understanding, a companionship. He refuses to confess to anything more, even within the confines of his own mind. His heart, on the other hand, has no compunctions about making its opinion known, setting off like a hare being hunted whenever she approaches. Most dangerous assassin in the world, defeated by her smile.

She offers him one now when she enters, picture perfect elegance very nearly succeeding in concealing her nerves. Bucky’s nerves, meanwhile, are on fire at the sight of her, sensory overload short-circuiting his brain. He finally turns to look at her directly and the fox-hunt pace of his heart stumbles, stutters to a stop.

“You- you’re- jeepers,” Is all he can manage, the rosewater blush deepening on his cheeks. It has the opposite of the desired effect, and she steps back, mascaraed eyes widening, horrified.

“It’s too much, isn’t it. Oh God, I knew I should’ve-”  She begins to reach for a tissue box on the dresser and Bucky stops her. Lowers her hand slowly and keeps a hold of it, as if she will float away otherwise.

“Jesus, doll, stop. You’re perfect,” He tells her, and she slips her hand away but smiles a little as she sits on the foot of the bed - their bed - to put on her shoes.

“Thank you. You look nice, too,” She says, lifting the hem of her black gown as she pulls on pearl white heels. The matching clutch - pearl encrusted - is on the bedside table, and he hands it to her as they leave the room and then the apartment. 

“Hang on, your tie is loose,” She says the moment they enter the elevator. He can’t even press the button for the ground floor while she holds him in place. The split-second it takes for her to wrap her hands around the green silk and pull it tighter stretches into hours, the graze of her knuckles gentle in his cotton-covered chest. He has enough time to carve the shape of her cupid’s bow into his mind, the descent of her jaw to her chin into his lungs. After half an eternity, she puts distance between them again and presses the button while he tries to smooth his hair back only to feel the short strands tickle between his fingers, and he remembers cutting it last week.

The lobby is bustling, people coming and going like bees in a hive, and they nod their hellos and offer the doorman a Good evening before getting in the car Sam sent. The seats are cold and comfortable, and the chauffeur tips his hat once in the rear-view mirror before putting the Rolls Royce into gear.

“ ‘Possess ye, therefore, ye who borne about In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue’ ” She murmurs, letting her fingers trace the stitching in the butter-soft leather. 

“Marlowe?” Bucky asks, turning away from the New York evening, that special, streetlights-reflecting-on-wet-asphalt evening, to look at his wife. 

“William Cowper. The Task.”

“I think I’ve read that one,” He lies, fully prepared to come clean, and she looks at him curiously. 

“Wow, really? Even I haven’t read all six books,” She says, dubiously verging on impressed, and Bucky drops the facade.

“I’m pullin’ your leg. I’ve read some of Cowper’s work. Don’t remember much, but bits and pieces of school are still there,” He explains, all cheeky smile. “What’s it about? And why in God’s good name is it six books long?” This - the conversation, letting her talk about her work, her passion for literature - this he can do. Playful questions intermingling with genuine intellectual interest is manageable. Her beauty, her grace, the cloud of perfume that bleeds into his veins and makes his lungs strive for air, is not. So he concentrates on what he knows. Or doesn’t know, apparently.

“Honestly, what isn’t The Task about?” She laughs, eyeshadow glimmering like stardust in the smile wrinkles in the corners of her intelligent eyes. “Cowper had a bit of a breakdown during his barrister training in London, and retired to the countryside. In 1781, he met his friend Lady Austen, who later gave him a task to write about, to cheer him up. He started, and then just followed that train of thought wherever it took him.”

“Which book is that line from?” Bucky asks as the car stops in the inevitable Friday night traffic jam. At least they accounted for it, leaving early on purpose to avoid tardiness.

“I don’t actually remember. I think it’s from an extract in which Cowper criticizes the superficial pleasures and unnecessary luxuries of city life,” She answers, opening her clutch. Her phone and a tube of lipstick peek out but she reaches deeper for a pair of earrings.

Closing her eyes, she fastens the first one on the side Bucky can’t see, the other crescent-moon shaped accessory in her silk draped lap. The flower made from pearls matches her bracelet, the two pieces of jewellery clinking together as she puts on the other one.

“City life, huh?” Bucky muses, trying desperately to calm his heart. The earrings dangle, contrasting wonderfully against her simple black gown, and he swallows. She looks like royalty.

“Yeah, many poets of the time wrote a lot about the beauty of nature. They had a lot more of it at their disposal, I guess,” She shrugs.

“Do you have any favorites?” “Nature poems? I don’t know. There are so many good ones. Wordsworth’s To the Cuckoo, Herrick’s Daffodils, Yeats’ Wild Swans at Coole, Tennyso-” She cuts herself off with a huff of a laugh at herself.

“What is it?” 

“Nothing, no- I just-” She laughs again, trying to wave her hand like she’s shooing a fly. “I just have conflicting feelings about these poems by classical authors who write about nature. Poems that express a keen appreciation of beauty yet are fillled with sadness because so many beautiful things are short-lived and because human life itself is so short,” She says, twirling the ring around her finger, deep in thought. Bucky doesn’t know how he found her. This simple, wise soul, in the midst of all the chaos of the world. The chaos of resettlement. 

The chaos of the kitchen, an hour before dinner as the Avengers prepare dinner together, is unholy. Sam’s panicking about dessert while Wanda stirs the marinara sauce for spaghetti in her signature demure fashion, while Peter’s pile of handmade spaghetti grows taller and the pasta dough shrinks. His phone lights up on the table, and Bucky - kneading more dough nearby - is the only one who notices. He calls for Peter and pushes it over to him, not knowing what the point of having a phone is if it’s always going to be on silent, but Peter holds it out to him after just a moment of conversation.

Bucky reads the caller ID on the top and sees who it is, closing the kitchen door behind him, flour on his black t-shirt, as she speaks.

“Hi, Bucky. I hope I’m not disturbing.” 

“No, not at all. Have you decided?” He asks, pacing the hallway, staying out of sight of the others. Not that it matters, they’re still fairly busy. She had seemed unsure when they met, and he had given her time to decide it she wanted to do this. 

“Yeah, but I just- this is a huge favor,” She says.

“Not to me, doll. I’m just helping a friend of a friend,” He says, and it isn’t entirely true. That isn’t why he’s doing this. Something in him wanted to help, wanted to repay the debt of kindness that he owes the world. This is how he wants to do it, although he doesn’t think it’s fair that he gets to choose his penance.

“I thought you said Peter talks your ears off.” Bucky cringes, grateful she can’t see his face, even though he can hear the joking lilt of her tone.

“He’s a good kid. And I want to do this. Do you?” 

“Yeah.” A lengthy pause, heavy and tangible, even across the phone line. 

“When do you want to get married?” She asks finallly, voice shaking. His hand is, too. 

“We have a week-long mission right after Christmas. Boxing day arms deal in Sao Paulo,” He replies, cursing the Brazilian gangs who could find no other time do get up to no good. Evil doesn’t go on vacation, and neither do the Avengers.

“So… New Year’s Eve?” She asks, doing the math. He realizes that’s true. A week from Boxing Day.

“Yes. Shit, you don’t have a ring-” He begins to say, freaking out about the logistics. He didn’t even propose properly.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” “Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“Bye Bucky.”

“G’night.” He bids her farewell, then looks at the phone, asking himself what the hell he’s just gotten himself into. A knot builds and twists in his body, and he tries to loosen it. Breathes, and makes his way back.

“I’m engaged,” And the kitchen freezes in time as they all drop everything - not literally, Sam’s holding a knife - to look at him. The smile on Peter’s face is brighter than the Christmas tree in the adjacent common room, and the somersaults in Bucky’s stomach only settle at the sight of his relief.  

It seems that his teammates gave him a later time on purpose, because they’re all ready, dressed to the nines and wine-tipsy, waiting for him when they enter. It’s a small ballroom, downtown Manhattan, quaint and graceful. A chorus of Happy Birthday erupts in the room, and he smiles and thanks them. The hugs pile on, and he begins to introduce his wife to his friends. Home away from home for the man who has never had one since the 1940s - until he met her, that is. She’s home now, though he wouldn’t tell her that.

Instead, he relishes in the grin she offers him between introductions, till Sam drags him off to stand him on a chair and sing a birthday song. The party commences in much a similar fashion, too much noise in the room for a couple of dozen people. He stays away from Thor’s alcohol, knowing she doesn’t drink, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. 

He’s just thinking about how she might be dealing with the hectic atmosphere when her hand slips into his while he’s talking to Harley Keener about letting him look at his arm. He’s shocked, looks at her to see her smiling and concentrating only on the conversation, but he can tell she’s tired. It’s been hours, and he knows he can’t leave early - it’s his party - but he just wants to slip those heels off her feet and sit and talk, still in partywear, for hours on end. Let her quote Byron and Cowper and Austen to him, poems and essays and books, until he falls asleep on their sofa. Instead, her voice says something he isn’t expecting at all.

“Is it possible to put some sort of temp regulation in it?” She asks curiously, head tilted to the side like a sparrow. Harley thinks it over for only a second.

“Of course, why?”

“It hurts in the cold. He rubs and rolls his shoulder a lot in the winter,” She answers, and the thoughtful observation astounds him. It’s accurate, but it hadn’t even occurred to him, the movements that she’s citing entirely subconscious. They talk to Harley for a while longer, and then dance to several of Bucky’s favorite songs. Billie Holliday is crooning in the background as the second-to-last guest exits, leaving only his wife and his captain and his deputy director. When the door shuts behind them, they break apart, and Sam and Maria approach, ready to call it a night.

The car ride home passes in complete silence, a comfortable weight resting like a blanket between them, so much so that she falls fully asleep on the way, her head resting against the cold window when they arrive. He doesn’t have the heart to wake her, so he goes around to her door, opening it slowly and lifting her into his arms, not caring what it might look like to onlookers. It’s late, and there are few of them, at least in the lobby, and as the elevator doors shut, her head curls against his shoulder, hair tickling his Adam’s apple.

Bucky looks down at her, her resting, easy expression, the chandni earrings still on, and thinks: what a way to turn 103.

Taglist:  @suz-123​ @mermaidxatxheart​ @buckyreaderrecs​ @shield-agent78​ @corneliabarnes​ @readerandcinephileingeneral​ @stevieboyharrington​ @notsomellowmushroom​ @veganfangirl5​ @mood-pancakes​ @lbuck121​ @starnight-charmer​

[angrylizardjacket]

i like the nightlife, she says {Roger Taylor}

A/N: more of the modern high school AYDTD au no-one asked for. I wrote this all on my phone so it's probs not great but it is what it is. In the modern au her brother's not a dick and I'm loving it. Feedback is appreciated. I'll fix the formatting tomorrow.

"You need more friends your age." Oscar tells Ash while he's making them both dinner. Their dad's still at work but mac and cheese was never something either of the siblings complained about.

"Why?" Ash, sitting on the counter top by the sink, watches as her older brother frowns at the question.

"Why? What do you mean 'why'?" He spluttered, eyebrows raised as he turned to face her. "It's good for your social development-"

"So you're a psych student now?" Ash crosses her arms, leaning back against the wall, "I've got friends back home, I'm only here for a year and a half before I'm going to uni so why should I bother?" And oh, it's like two successive gut punches; the elder of the siblings has to take a long moment of staring into the saucepan, stirring idly, in order to process what Ash had said.

"A year and a half is a longass time," Oscar chooses to focus on the latter, and Ash rolled her eyes, "how often do you see or talk to your friends back home?" He uses her phrasing but it hurts just a little. Ash, in turn, is quiet for a long time.

"Do Snapchat streaks count?" She asks, a little sheepish, like she already knows his answer.

"They absolutely do not; you should be out with friends being young and dumb on a Friday, not eating mac and cheese with your brother." He turns off the burner and motions for her to hop off the counter. As he plates up dinner, they're both contemplative.

"I'm young and dumb regardless," finally Ash speaks, giving Oscar a pointed look, and he concedes on that point at least. After a beat, Ash's lips twitch into a mischievous smile, "but if you let me borrow your friend's ID again we can go see Queen and I can make friends with John." Oscar regards her curiously for a moment, mouth full of food.

"Not Roger?" He asks through his food, genuinely confused, "isn't he in your class- ?"

"Gross, finish your fucking mouthful first." Wrinkling her nose, Ash pushes her food around her bowl, waiting for him to finish. Instead, he opens his mouth wide and makes an obnoxious noise, laughing as Ash fake gags, "you're an absolute cretin sometimes, you know that?"

"Is that your word of the day?" He asks with a grin after he dies actually swallow his mouthful, poking fun at how strange the word 'cretin' sounded amid her usual vocabulary. "Anyways, why not make friends with Roger if you're going after the band? He's in your year, isn't he?" He waits patiently for Ash to finish her own mouthful before answering.

"Firstly, he ruined my major work so I hate him on principle," Ash held up a singular finger before moving on to get next point, "secondly, I've been at this school for one semester and I already know that Roger Taylor does not just make friends with girls," she's far too passionate for this to be off the top of her head; Oscar know when she's been thinking hard about something, and this must have been on her mind for a while, "and thirdly, I'm not going to try and befriend him at a gig, he's got girls all over him, and I don't think he even knows my name." Slumping back in her chair as her momentum left her, Ash shovels another spoon full of pasta into her mouth angrily.

"Why does that matter?" Oscar finally asks, and when Ash looks to him making a confused noise, she doesn't like the knowing look in his eyes. "Why does him not knowing your name matter? Can't you just introduce yourself?" Ash turns pink in the silence that follows, scrunching up her face and refusing to meet Oscar's gaze as she begrudgingly agrees. "I mean I'm not saying you need to forgive the guy for the whole major work thing," Oscar shrugs, letting the tension drop, and Ash visibly relaxes, "that was fucked, and if you want me to punt him into the English Channel, you know I will." That gets her to actually laugh, and Oscar's gaze turns fond, "but maybe give him a chance."

"Half a chance." Ash counters, as if it were a game, and Oscar nods, as if agreeing to her terms. "And I'll make friends with John anyways; he's funky, I like him." She says bluntly, and Oscar snorts out a laugh.

"Alright, sounds good; did you wanna go tonight?" He asks, and Ash's expression turns confused.

"I thought you had that poetry competition tonight." She frowned, and there was a moment in which Oscar's heart filled with fondness for his little sister, his number one fan.

"Yeah, after that, biscuit, that only goes 'til eight; Freddie said they don't usually start until nine-thirty." After a moment of contemplating his words, Ash grins and nods.

Oscar and Ash walk in during the band's sound check, and Roger almost drops his drumstick where he's twirling it. Both Brian and Freddie give them a wave, which is returned by the gingers, and Roger has to stop himself from snapping at the others where they glance pointedly at him; he's already turning red as it is. He's grateful to hide behind the drum kit. They saw each other like six hours ago; they always have art together last period on a Friday, but seeing her at one of his gigs is different.

She's standoffish and aloof in class, she actually uses the free time the teacher allocates in art to work on her projects where everyone else uses it to socialise. He's not even sure if she's bothered to learn the names of half the people in her class, she might not even know the teacher's name, but when she's here, bright and bubbly next to her lanky, uni student of a brother - who is literally over a foot taller than her; side by side they're a little jarring to look at - she clearly know John, who is two years below them, and as it turns out, she knows Roger too.

Roger spends his time between sets by the bar, with the others, and a crowd of uni girls who haven't realised he's probably too young for them. Not that he's quick to point that out. It takes until he spots Oscar at the other end of the bar, taking to Brian with a softly starry-eyed expression, to remember that it's probably a terrible idea to leave any of his bandmates alone with Ash. Taking one look at the table Ash had commondeered earlier that night, he realises he might be too late, seeing John squinting suspiciously at Ash.

"Hey, your eyes are green." Roger hears John say as the drummer makes a beeline for the table.

"What? Yeah, why?" Ash, confused as all hell, shoots a concerned glance at the incoming Roger, as if silently asking what the hell was going on and if this was the bassist's normal behaviour. John follow her gaze and gives Roger a shiteating grin.

"No reason." John says pointedly, sliding from his stool. "I'll be back, I'm going to take a piss." And with that he leaves. Roger regrets ever inviting the little twerp to join the band; fifteen-year-olds are universally terrible, Roger decides, and John Deacon is no different.

"What was that about?" Ash asks, and Roger takes a long sip of his beer, enduring the taste despite how much he hated it. Finally, he sits in on the stool directly beside Ash, though she doesn't seem inclined to move away.

"Nothing, ignore him." Roger rolls his eyes, shooting for casual, and silence stretches between them. Finally he gets a good look at her; from the stage he could sort of see her, but not really beyond knowing it's her, and even then he could only identify her for her hair. He really needed to find his contacts of she was going to keep showing up looking this good to gigs. He's seen her in her school uniform more times than he can count, and last time she was here she was yelling at him and he was too focused on trying not to think about how hot she was when she was mad to notice her clothes. But today? Today she'd dressed up, and he'd be dammed if he didn't admire it a little bit.

He's never seen her in makeup, granted it was just some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss, but it made her look a little softer, somehow all of the look, from the sleeveless button down shirt being tucked into her high waisted skirt, to the dainty, lace up heels she wore, all just made her look... cute.

"You guys sound really good; its weird seeing you, Brian, and John all on stage together but it sounds good." She half laughs, and Roger hadn't considered it from an outside perspective, especially not from her's; her tutor, classmate, and a kid two years below all somehow in the same band? It is a bit strange when he thinks about it.

He's about to thank her when she frowns, looking at him and tapping a finger to her lips in thought, grimacing when she forgets she's wearing lipgloss and her finger comes away slightly shiny. Roger ignored the thought of how much he wants to taste that lipgloss, preferably while she was still wearing it.

"I thought you wore glasses." She mused, voice quiet enough that it seems to be mostly to herself, wiping her lipgloss-finger on a napkin. The idea that she'd paid enough attention to notice his sporadic use of his glasses made his heart flutter just a little.

"Not while drumming." He grins, and Ash nods, the look in her eyes like she's filing that information away for later.

"It would ruin the look?" She asks with a smirk, eyes making their way down his body as she takes in his full outfit. Roger crosses his ankles in the stool, puffing out his chest a little in obvious, nonverbal agreement, and her smile widens. "You've got a whole seventies thing going on here," she takes a moment to play with a bit of fringe on his open vest; "it's groovy."

"Yeah, well, we're trying for a classic rock, like Guns 'n' Roses type thing." Roger explains easily, there's a pause, and in the silence he reached out to where the hem of her skirt had flipped up on her thigh. He smoothed it out, but pushed his luck by leaving his hand there. "You look nice, by the way, Ash," and maybe it's the fact that he does know her name, or his hand on her thigh, or even just the compliment, but Ash turns bright pink. She's not sure if he notices, at least she hopes he doesn't. She takes a long sip of her drink, and thanks god for the low lighting of the bar, and after a moment she's pretty sure she's recovered enough to answer.

"Thanks, Oz had a thing before this." She awkwardly explains, and though it's not the full answer - if she had to explain that she did in fact dress up a little to come see the band, she might have to explain why - but she's saved by the proverbial bell when the rest of the band comes to collect Roger for the next set. Roger gives her thigh a cheeky squeeze beneath the table before he's hopping off the stool and heading to where the band was set up, though there was no stage this time.

"Did you make a friend?" Oscar practically coos, poking at her cheek where he can see a blush even in this light. Ash swats him away, unable to stifle her grin. "Aww, you did, didn't you?"

"You're such a dick." Ash slaps his hand away where he goes to pet her on the head, but she's still smiling, and also glad that their table is far enough away that the band can't hear them. "Where were you anyways?" And Oscar's smile becomes genuine.

"I was making friends too." And he sounds a little wistful as he gazes up at the band. Ash follows his gaze and then Brian grins at them Oscar grins back.

"Oscar Demitri Clarke, I forbid you from having a crush on my tutor," Ash hisses, though she's clearly elated at how much she'll be able to tease him about it.

"I make no promises; he's cute and he clearly cares about people so-" Oscar says loftily, but Ash groans, thumping her head into the table as the music starts up.

"You're already planning your imaginary wedding to him, aren't you; you know he's a vegetarian and an animal rights activist?" And at that information Oscar make the single funniest noise Ash has ever heard come out of him, like a hamster being sucked into a pool drain.

"He's perfect." Oscar breathes, before he clears his throat, and he leans down to nudge Ash's shoulder with his own. "Anyways, those in glass houses, biscuit; I saw Roger's hand." And Ash could feel the blush rising on her cheeks again.

"Fine; truce?" She asked, and Oscar's grin was sharp but compliant.

"Truce."

[jane-wei]

3am bordem

1 Favorite place to be?

A quiet cinema with a massive screen

2 Something I can never live without?

Water

3 Hobbies that I’ll never give up?

baking

4 Three words to describe me?

Proffestional, day dreamer, loyal

5 My biggest fear?

ebaressment

6 What makes me angry?

ignorance towards others

7 My inspiration?

creativity and passion of others

8 Favorite wild animal? Why?

any big cats, because they literally are just big cats

9 Favorite food?

pizza, always

10 First memory of life?

probably playing with lego and having my dad make me spaceships out of lego

11 The best advice I got?

write every day

12 Where do I see myself in 10 years?

hopfully own my own flat or house, maybe running my own production company, maybe acting in some plays

13 Books reading these days?

im not a big reader, but when i read i read loads, i must read DUNE soon

14 The fictional character I want to be?

Luke Skywalker

15 My hidden talents?

quiet farts

16 Favorite type of music?

electronic or classical, if its both at the same time its magic

17 When do I feel happy?

when things are going right for collegues or loved ones

18 Which song would I like to hear to be happy?

duran duran ordinary world

19 My favourite word in English?

surety

20 My favorite word in Spanish?

da nada, that count as two?

21 Top 3 things on my bucket list?

visit hobbiton, sky diving, meet mark hamill

22 The most heard song in 2017?

redbone by childish gambino

23 Last book you’ve read?

probably a comic book or an excerpt from a book on how to direct actors

24 Favorite quote?

All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king. 

J.R.R. Tolkien

25 If I had a superpower what would it be?

Creating objects, although that has a lot of responsibility, but it would end world hunger

26 Favorite sport?

rugby, its the only one id watch begining to end, but to play definatly badmington, brutal game

27 Biggest Dream?

be a jedi

28 Favorite Singer?

the chap who won x factor uk last year, Dalton Harris, that guy can create magic

29 Favourite Cusine?

italian

30 A positive quality about me?

I want to know what you have to say, i might get  nervous at the answer or speaking other people in general but im interested

31 A negative quality about me?

push down my self confidence

32 Best place I’ve visited?

brecon beacons in wales

33 When do I laugh the most?

when something is funny, but also breaking through social conventions in a dark kinda way, nothing insulting just a little dark here and there

34 When do I get creative?

when travelling, trains and buses are great, but only when i can see a wide vista, so trains goign through the countryside are ideal, or in a creative soace with othe rlike minded creatives. enough of creativity for now eh?

35 Favorite lyrics?

nothing overlly specific, but i like Plan B’s stuff, Radiohead always do somethign interesting, A Tribe Called Quest are geniuses with words

36 The most scary thing I’ve done?

confront people, its tough, especially when you know something has to be resolved by words and talking

37 Biggest accomplished achievement?

going to film school, something i thought was impossible for a working class lad like me

38 What am I horrible at?

not keeping healthy

39 Favorite book genres?

sci fi and fantasy for sure

40 Any adventurous thing I want to do?

travel

41 Something I would like to try?

sports, i feel that if i was encouraged at school in sports id be a real jockey

42 Optimistic or pessimistic?

depends on the day, optimistic is the goal, that way your always looking up

43 Favorite TV show host?

Mel and Sue, old school bake off

44 A talent I want to acquire?

playing the violin and anoy other musical instrument i can egt my hands on

45 Something from my childhood that I still have?

1 teddy bear and 1 fluffy teddy style cat, those are going to be family heirlooms

46 If I had a chance to change something what would it be?

death of family members, but you cant dwell on such things, itll drive you mad

47 What would I do to calm myself?

music and cleaning

48 When do you find yourself singing?

while out walking or home alone

49 What do I consider unforgivable?

any attack on others, physical, psycological, verbal, insinuated

50 Have I ever sleepwalked?

as a kid yes but not since, if i did id definatly wear some kind of body camera and find out where id go

51 If I got a chance to go somewhere, where will it be?

everywhere, every continant at least 5 times

52 What is my dream career?

feature film writer/director

53 An impossible wish?

a real lightsaber

54 Who is my greatest role model?

i like elders who are accepting of others and those who take great joy in heling others

55 If I could live in any home on a television series, what would it be?

does the U.S.S ENTERPRISE count?

56 Favorite song currently?

Tiny Dancer by Elton John

57 Advice to people?

try to be understanding of others, dont put yourself or your skills down, make every day count, give yourself some credit for what youve done so far, make sure you get a little tlc every now and again

58 How do you handle jetlag?

sleep

59 Describe your style?

nerd

60 Favorite makeup product?

i dont use any, but i do get asked if i use mascara, all natural

61 What’s a guilty pleasure you have?

early naughties action movies, Van Heling with Hugh Jackman the main culprit

62 Favorite Star Wars Character?

The crew of the Ghost, you could never pick one over the other

63 Any pet peeve?

laughs with high pitches

64 If you could die your hair, what color would it be?

red

65 What’s your schedule these days?

in need of a job so a lot of job hunting, school is 2 days a week(ish) got a few writing jobs so putting pen to paper, need to start learnig lines for a play in the summer

66 Have you ever cut your own hair?

only the fringe and i didnt think it was that bad but when i got into school EVERYONE laughed #embaressmentismykryptonite

67 Who’s your style icon?

my friend zach, simple gorgeous colors

68 Do you consider yourself a good liar?

if the lie is a simple one

69 Favorite movies as a child?

star wars, star trek, lord of the rings, predator which i watched way before i was supposed to, i was also in the spy kids generation

70 Last show you’ve binge watched?

star wars rebels and the eric andre show

71 First toy you’ve had?

probably my teddies, but i do remember having star wars actions figures and lego very early on

72 What can you see from your window?

a main road which many buses travel down, a bus stop, a residential row of houses leading to a park, a betting shop

73 What’s for dinner today?

my other half makes great tempe and gyoza

[thedisasterhasarrived]

A Short Story Of How She Met Her Best Friend

Alright. The other day, I was just laying in my bed. The lights were off, and I was in the middle of yet another existential crisis. Here I was, just gradually losing all concepts of reality, sinking into an eternal abyss.

There I was, in a ninja state, consumed by my downward spiral, when all of a sudden, my phone scared the holy spirit out of me, by ringing as loudly as possible.

You may be thinking, that's not so bad. But, being me, I rolled off my bed onto the hard floor, tangled in my blankets, and ended up getting my hair caught in my earbuds that I had lying next to me, by my phone. Perfect, right?

And so I very aggressively answered the phone politely with a whisper, saying, "Hello, how may I help you?"

I guess all of that training in Mc Donald's earning money for college was finally starting to take effect.

I hadn't even seen the caller ID, but as soon as I heard the voice I knew who it was.

My best friend, possibly only friend, Cade. That's actually his middle name, but he refuses to tell me his first to this day.

So, being himself, Cade replied to me with a very cautious, "I don't have time for your social awkwardness right now, I need your opinion on something."

Really sweet guy, Cade is. A real teddy bear.

But in all honestly, Cade is the literal light of my life. Being an only child, Cade was basically a miracle from Heaven. Though, Cade's family believes in this weird religion that requires some weird shit. Like, I'll just be hanging out with him in my room, and then he will jump up, yell something about Oh Styx, and disappear for a few minutes. He will then reappear covered in golden glitter. Weird, as I said before.

So, I don't know if I told you this before, but in my little time here, we are going to be talking about Cade.

Moving onwards, I said Cade is really nice. But, in all honestly, he's the most antisocial pessimistic hypocrite you've ever met.

I'm going to tell you how I met Cade. Sound cool? No. I told all of my family a different story. Something I created to satisfy their questions.

This is the first time I'm ever going to tell the truth.

So, I lived in an apartment building, with my two lovely parents. I didnt have any friends. School was hell. I was bullied because I was and currently am, Asexual. I like people, but I don't really want sex. Like, at all.

Anyways, I'm going to share this secret for the first time. In this story I was 15. I am 16 now, and Cade was 14, currently 15. At the time of our first meeting.. I was not mentally stable. I was depressed and suicidal.

I finally gave up. I was ready to die.

I was up at the top of our apartment building, which is a few stories high. It was a tall building. So I was standing on the edge, about to end it all. I was crying, obviously, and there was only a little breeze. I was swaying, as if I would magically die standing still. Dont get me wrong, I wanted to die. I wanted to jump. But how do you say, I choose this second to jump. All it would take is one tiny step. I would fall through the air and then splat. No more me. I was frozen. How do you pick the one second to say, oh, this is a good time to die.

So, there I was. Then, out of the blue, I heard a voice speak behind me. "What are you doing?"

I of course, spun around and almost fell to my death. My stomach flipped and I tripped back onto the gravel roof.

I looked up and saw a skinny emo teenager. He looked tired. And disappointed.

I felt confused.

He spoke again, saying, "What are you doing, you idiot? Are you serious? I don't have time for this."

I, being the depressed yet feisty woman I was, kind of felt offended. Who is this dick head to chastise me as if I was I was himself sitting at the dinner table trying to figure out the last problem on his calculus homework.

I glared at him, and smartly said, "Excuse me?"

He then sighed and punched his nose.

He proceeded to ask me questions.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?"

I nod.

"Are you going to kill yourself?"

I nod.

"Are you going to jump off of this building?"

I nod.

He sighed.

I was trying to hide my shaky hands, and wiped my ruined make up. I was crying, guys, and do you know what happens when you wear mascara and cry? It streaks down your face like black sharpie.

"I have to stop you, now. You know that right?" He glared at me as if I was a minor inconvenience. A rock in his shoe.

Fuck that guy, I thought.

I made a show of standing up and getting back up on the ledge. I was again felt the crippling terror of staring downwards.

I heard him walk over to me. Then he was standing next to me.

I knew what he was doing. He was going to say if I jumped he would jump too. I voiced this accusation, and he laughed.

"Well, yeah. But I don't really mind. I don't really want to be alive right now either. I'm just floating through life. I have no purpose or reason to live."

I felt aggravated at him. This guy sucks. Whatever.

And I thought, fuck it, I am going to die tonight, I domt care if he dies with me.

So I stretched my legs for a minute, balancing precariously on the edge, getting ready to jump. Stalling I know. But who cares.

So, I counted down from 10.

10. Beathe in.

9. Breathe out.

8. Breathe in.

7. Breathe out.

6. Breathe in.

5. Breathe out.

4. Breath in.

3. Breath out.

2. Breathe in.

1-

"I have a family waiting at home for me."

His words shocked me into standing still. I was so close.

"I have a twin brother. His name is Austin, and if I die, he is never going to get to see me again. He saw me this morning at breakfast. The last thing he said to me was, bye. Love you. That means if I die right now, he will never see me again. I will disappear off of the face of the earth. He will never hear me ask him for help with English homework again. I have two dads too. One is gay, the other is bi. The bi one is named Liam. He is a doctor. He loves his job, saving people. But, imagine his inner pain at not being able to save his own son. How does that make you feel? My other Dad is named Nicky. He lost his mother at a really young age, his father didn't care about him for a long time. He only had his older sister. Her name was Tay. She then abandoned him as soon as they got a new home with a different family. He was staying at a foster home. She got the choice of staying with him or going off to an all girl's school. His sister left him by himself at age ten. She then died not even a week later, in a freak accident. He was completely alone in the world for a few years. He also went into a lot of other shit just like that, going through hell, literally. After all of that, everything finally went right for him. He is happily married, with a sister, and he has two children whom he adores. Do you really want to put him through more? He already had a bad life. Do you want to ruin all that he earned through unknown pain and self hatred?" Cade ranted for a few minutes.

Damn him! How can I ruin his family's lives? Fuck! FUCK!

We stand ins silence for a long time, and I decide to just quit. I get off of the side of the building and walk back to the stairs. Another time, I guess.

Cade follows me. As I am about to walk down, leaving him forever, he gives me his number.

"Call me."

The only words we have spoken to each other since his speech.

And that, my friends, is how I met Cade.

[glamodasite]

Banter Babe: Ellis Brooklyn’s Bee Shapiro

What’s your beauty vibe? Is there such a beauty vibe as a mood ring? I’m constantly changing up my look. My makeup beauty goals would probably be Katie Jane Hughes. I’m obsessed with her Instagram account. She does so many cool color and texture combos without looking like she’s wearing a pound of makeup. Also, she does a lot of glitter shades on the eye, and I’m a sucker for anything twinkly.

What’s the first beauty product you owned and loved? My mom was – and still is – obsessed with skincare so I feel like I’ve been using beauty products in some way, shape, or form since I was born. I remember whipping up lanolin oil hair masks in second grade and I also did egg white facials. I’m also part of the Lip Smacker generation. I had five different flavors in elementary school, including my fave: Dr. Pepper. I was also obsessed with Love’s Baby Soft fragrance. The first makeup product I was most into, though, was my black kohl eyeliner from Wet n’ Wild. I was 12 and I would wait until I got to school (so my mom wouldn’t see) and then spend some 10 minutes each day putting on gobs of it. I grew up in Seattle so I thought I was doing the grunge look justice — the important word here is “thought.” It might not have been my best beauty moment but I’m still a big fan of eyeliner, so it really was love.

What’s your favorite beauty treatment splurge? I had a facial from Nichola Joss recently, and I swear my face looked lifted for a week afterwards. I’m a huge proponent of massage in general and she’s best known for this inner mouth massage that hurts so good. She’s also just an immensely talented, lovely person so I absolutely believe in karma and good vibes and all of that.

What’s your daily makeup routine — and how long does it take? I have a 3-year-old and a 19-month-old, so I have gotten very good at putting on makeup in five minutes. That said, I don’t skimp. If it’s the weekend, I’ll skip foundation and might just do a tinted sunscreen. I like the radiant one from Ever or the Skinceuticals Physical Fusion UV Defense, which is so reliable. But if I’m headed to work, then I like a longwear foundation. The Dior Forever is really good, and I like the MAC Pro Longwear nourishing formula. They each have a color that works very well for me. I dot that on with a damp Beauty Blender so it’s still relatively sheer. I almost always wear eye makeup. I have virtually nonexistent eyelashes, so mascara is a must. My go-to lately is Lancome’s Monsieur Big. It’s like Too Faced’s Better Than Sex, but with a less clunky brush. Eyeshadows might be my favorite color product. I have palettes for days. Also Tom Ford just put out some glittery beauties via his Extreme line. I use a black liquid liner on top and a soft kohl or gel eyeliner on the bottom, like the one from Smashbox. For liquid, I’m fairly agnostic, but I do like the Lancome Artliner and Cle de Peau has one that has two different brush ends, thick and thin, which is nice. I might contour with CLE’s bronzy cushion compact; Charlotte Tilbury’s Bronze and Glow is good for days I’m on the oilier side because it’s a powder. I have a bunch of Chanel blushes in a variety of shades, and I’ll dust a tiny bit on just on the tops of my cheeks. For lips, I generally go for a lighter neutral color by day. The new Dior Lacquer Plump is so good—like a stain but not so drying. Brows take me the longest. Lately, I’ve been using two different pencils by Benefit. One has a wide, long tip and the other is very precise and made for drawing in hairs. I also am very into fragrance (obviously!). Since starting my line, Ellis Brooklyn, I pretty much only wear my own. I’m currently over the moon for our new Fawn scent. It’s neroli, coconut milk, amber, lily of the valley; it’s my highbrow-yet-delicious summer scent.

What’s your daily skincare routine? Lately, I start with Skinceuticals Replenishing Cleanser, which is gentle yet gets the job done. Then I’m big on the layering scene. I can always leave a layer off. If it’s pretty mild out, I might just stick to a hyaluronic-based serum. The Innisfree Intensive Rehydrating Serum is so good for the price. Skinceuticals also has a bunch of really great serums. If it’s harsh or dry out, I might layer a cream on. I love the Avene A-Oxitive line. I’m also a huge fan of the Avene Cicalfate Restorative Skin Cream when my skin is on the fritz. At night, I do the same cleanser situation but might also use the Klorane Waterproof Eye Makeup Remover. It’s super effective without being too oily. I’ll go back to the serum and then do an oil instead of a cream. I avoid silicones when I can at night. I think silicones are okay in moderation, but too many skincare products these days over-rely on them. Also, you really don’t need a silicone unless you’re out in the elements. I’ve been into the Elemis Superfoods Oil. Also, the Elemis Pro Collagen Eye Serum is so lovely and sinks in right away.

I’m also a big-time masker. I’m really loving the M-61 Fast Blast Facial Mask lately, which is like a blast of vitamin C in just 2 minutes. At night, I like the Glow Recipe Watermelon Sleeping Mask. If I’m not using the sleeping mask, there are a plethora of glycolic/lactic peeling options out there.

Age gracefully or filler and botox, please and thanks? Currently just aging but definitely considering filler and Botox. With the two kids and the fact I’m turning 37 this year, Mama looks tired. I also discovered all these tiny eye lines recently. It’s like they appeared out of nowhere.

What product do you buy in bulk? Aquaphor. I use it for my kids and myself. For awhile, I tried to eliminate all petroleum jelly and mineral oil from the products our family uses, but then my youngest had very bad eczema and Aquaphor, along with Mustela’s Stelatopia line, was the only thing that worked. I find it one of the best multi-use products, ever.

What’s your save-the-day hair product and why? I am so impressed with the Miriam Quevedo Glacial White Caviar Hydra-Pure Shampoo. After I had my second baby, my scalp would not stop itching. I literally tried everything from scalp masks to scrubs to sulfate-free, etc. This is the only thing that made my scalp stop itching. It’s super gentle, gets the job done, and has some sort of magic (albeit expensive magic) that rebalances your scalp’s flora.

I also really like the Briogeo Don’t Despair, Repair hair mask. It smells delicious and really does the job without weighing hair down too much.

Who is responsible for your hair – cut and color? I actually get my hair cuts all over New York. I’m constantly testing out different stylists for my New York Times work. My most recent cut is by Arsen Gurgov. It’s very good because he didn’t over-layer and it’s growing out well.The best cut I ever got, though, was by the master, Serge Normant. I currently don’t have my hair colored, but I am very tempted to go crazy blonde one day.

Best piece of beauty advice you’ve received? This one came from my mom: Don’t focus on being the most beautiful because there will always be someone more beautiful than you out there. Instead, make the most of what you have and then don’t think too much about it.

Who is your beauty icon, and why? Probably Francoise Hardy, but since I will never look like that — I’ve never been good at that effortless French look anyway — I’ve sort of given up on the whole beauty icon business. Instead, I sort of have my muses of the moment. I’m currently super into Fernanda Ly and also the Japanese model, Kozue Akimoto.

What’s your least favorite beauty trend/ look? The angry brow. It’s the one that’s most in your face lately. I’m actually very much in favor of a strong brow but I’ve been seeing so many pairs of angry brows on the subway. What may look decent on Instagram may just look scary in real life.

If you could only do one beauty treatment on the weekly, what would it be and why? A massage, hands down. It just re-centers everything and gets the blood going without doing a workout.

What’s your best kept beauty secret? If you want to keep breakouts at bay before a big event, drink a shot of aloe every morning. Don’t go for the sweetened stuff, go buy a big bottle of straight aloe juice from Whole Foods. The stuff is disgusting but I swear it works.

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— Bee Shapiro, founder of Ellis Brooklyn and New York Times writer.

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