#red-lips-and-pixy-sticks

[windssong]

wind song // logan(2017) x fem mutant reader

(mini series)

synopsis : you dream of a life without your powers. logan needs them to help locate some dead guys cash. a roadtrip to the Nevada desert with your ex was always bound to be a mistake. but, maybe it wasn’t.

Chapter 1 - blood money

chapter summary: after breaking up over a year ago, you reunite with logan at a diner in Texas. he needs a favor.

warnings: 18+ ONLY // MDNI - suggestive content, mature themes/subject matters, death, swearing, eventual violence.

word count: 2k+

wind song masterlist // my other masterlist

The coffee was burnt. You pretended to like it that way.

The white mug was too hot to hold with your hands, so you opted for a straw instead. You found it in the corner of the booth. That earned some stares from the old couple eating lunch a few tables over and your waitress.

“That’s gonna melt the plastic right into your drink, you know?” Her Texan accent wasn’t as thick as the other waiters. There was red lipstick on her teeth. “Just wait for it to cool down.”

You picked the plastic tube from the liquid, inspecting it. It was still intact. “Looks fine to me.” And you popped it back in. There were sugar packets on the table. They reminded you of pixie sticks. You started to feel nauseous.

The lady shook her head, putting her notepad with your orders away. “Whatever gets you through the day.” And she left to go get your food. Or complain to her coworkers about the woman melting plastic instead of sugar into her coffee.

You wanted to drink it like normal. But you’d used a similar cup like this before to solve a case a few months back. It just didn’t feel right. Objects never did after they helped you locate the missing person. Another strange aspect of your powers. It’s like the people lived on through their things.

You could see his car pulling in through the driveway. He was right on time. Like always.

All kinds of emotions were running through you. You’d just arrived here out of state for a funeral. You were still wearing the black dress from attending this morning. Logan had called as you debated in your car whether to attend the after-services or not. Guess you got your answer. But it was still a surprising one.

You hadn’t seen or heard from him in over a year. Not since the incident.

The front doors opened, and the bell rang to let everyone know. You sat up a little straighter, nervous fingers folded in your lap.

Logan seemed to bring down the entire room as soon as he walked in. He wore a white tank top, with a white button-up over it. His black suit jacket was covered in specks of dirt and dust. His beard was a lot fuller now, his hair a bit shorter. Both growing gray. It glistened with the beads of something that smelled like moonshine.

For the first time in your life, you could see his age catching up to him. And the exhaustion. It was written on the bags underneath his eyes. In the way he held his aching knuckles to his chest, staring at where his claws hid.

He took a quick swig from his flask, ignoring the waiter's glare from behind the main counter. He was looking for you, drink still in hand.

You let him find you.

“Nice dress.” He started with. Your heart rate increased. You bit the inside of your lip. He still had that gravitational pull that made people want to either run and hide or get closer to him. He slid into the booth across from you. The sugar packets made shaking noises. He left his flask out on the table. “What’s the occasion?”

Your hands played with the black fabric ending at your knees. “Funeral.”

Logan nodded his head in understanding. He took out his glasses, looking at one of the menus.

“Oh, I’ve ordered already.”

“And I’m hungry as shit.”

“I ordered for you.” You emphasized.

Logan paused, staring at a picture of a salad. His eyes peeked out over the menu. “The usual?”

You nodded, swirling the straw around in the cooling cup of coffee. “Most places have what you like.”

He removed his glasses, rubbing at the irritated spot on his nose. “Next time, let me get my own tab.”

When she returned with the food, you ate in silence.

Logan stuffed a plate of sausages in his mouth before finishing attacking the eggs. He occasionally reached for his flask, like it was something he had ordered.

You didn’t feel like eating. The sugar was grinding in your ears. You’d have to take this sandwich to go. The coffee was going cold now.

“So,” you started. You were suddenly aware of how sticky the seat was beneath you. “Why did you call?”

“Why did you answer?” He kept eating. His fork made noises when it hit the plate.

You thought about the weeping mother and the small casket. “Well, it was either this or dwell on my last case. And I’d rather talk with an old friend than think about any of that.”

He stopped chewing, swallowing hard. “Well, then you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

Your brows knitted. You leaned back against the headboard. “I’m listening.”

Your ex took another shot of the hard alcohol. It was still the afternoon. But alcohol didn’t have the same effect on him as it did on other people. His abilities wouldn’t allow it. But it was still a problem.

He stuffed the flask back in his shirt pocket, only after it was empty. “I’ll make it short. A client of mine owes me a lot of fucking money.”

You crossed your arms. “How much?”

He put up five fingers. You remembered how they used to squeeze your hand in comfort. Sometimes they’d wipe away your tears. Other times they gripped your thighs and pulled you closer.

It was bittersweet. Those sweet and intimate memories. Even as the world continued to go to shit and mutants became less and less, you still had each other. Until something took that all away. You could recall the whistle ringing from your lips. Your cheeks were cold during the early days of fall. Logan was yelling about how you should’ve seen this coming. But he knew how your abilities worked. They didn’t work on the living.

“5,000?” You guessed.

“50,000.” He corrected.

Your jaw dropped. “Jesus. Were you his chauffeur or were you sleeping with him?”

He smiled. It was a weak one but it was still there. If you weren’t so used to it you would’ve missed it. “Look, he was a rich asshole who promised me a big tip. That's all.”

“That’s not a tip. That’s my salary.”

Logan set his utensils down after taking one last bite. “Then you need a fucking raise.”

“Or a new profession.” You joked. But it came out flat.

Being a private detective could’ve been a more fulfilling job. If it wasn’t for the fact that your mutant gene gave you the ability to track any person or creature. But only if they were dead.

You’ve worn this dress too many times to too many funerals.

Logan seemed like he was fighting with himself, whether to respond to that confession or not. He didn’t. Instead, he pulled out a fancy fountain pen from his jacket. “This is all I have of his.” He placed it on the table in front of you. “Will this be enough?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. “I haven’t even agreed to anything yet. What makes you think he’s dead in the first place?”

“Because, when he called saying he had the money, I heard gunshots. Then the phone went out. It’s been three weeks.”

“And no one’s reported him missing?” That was odd.

“Nope.” He looked from your eyes to your lips. “He never even told me where he was. I think he was out of state. And before you ask, yes, I already tried to trace the call. Nothing.”

The waitress came by, handing you a to-go box and whisked away his empty plates. Her eyes lingered noticeably longer on Logan as she walked back into the kitchen.

You continued your questioning. “Does he have any family? Maybe they know where he is.”

“No. He told me he was an only child. Parents died by the time he was 40. No other living relatives. People say a lot of shit when they’re drunk in the back of a car. Or just damn lonely.” His hand instinctively went to rest on the flask in his pocket. He motioned towards the pen. “If you need more than this, I can get it.”

You hesitated to pick it up. “You know how much I hate doing this.”

“I know.” He licked his lips, leaning towards you. “Yet, you’re still looking for people.”

It was true.

As much as you hated your powers, as much as they hurt; they could be used to help. Even if that meant only ever bringing people back to their families dead instead of alive.

A quote from your old Professor echoed in your mind. From a time long lost in the unforgiving hands of time and a powerful mind.

“Sometimes, doing the right thing can hurt you. But, it can give peace to the ones that you’re helping. What you give up, you give away. For good or for evil, now that’s up to you.”

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. An old friend was asking for your help. But would he do the same for you? There was a time when you would’ve never doubted it. You hated yourself for that.

The pen felt icy in your hands. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe he was dead. You could already feel something beating through the object. It didn’t feel alive. “When do we start?”

A glimmer of light radiated off of Logan’s rugged face. For a moment there, it was like he was his old self again. The light flickered out just as quickly as it came. “Tomorrow morning. 8 am. I’ll pick you up.” He placed a 20-dollar bill next to your half-empty coffee cup.

You stared at the dead man on the paper. “I’ve already paid.”

“This is for the tip.” He stood, a slight uneasiness in his steps. He seemed so tired.

Were his regenerative powers still getting worse?

He paused before heading out, messing with the cuff of his sleeves. “Don't worry. I’ll make sure you get paid for this.”

I don’t want your damn money. I want to be rid of this haunting.

You let him think you were deep in thought. You tapped your chin. “I’ll take 60%.”

Logan put a hand on his hip. He sighed. “Now don’t piss me off.”

You rolled your eyes. “Would never dream of doing that.” You packed your untouched sandwich away in the box.

Logan cursed under his breath. It sounded like he was muttering between fuck it and fines. When he left the small diner the room felt lighter again.

You watched him drop his keys in the parking lot and stomped them further into the Texas dirt.

“See, I told you!” You turned to your waitress who was pointing at your cup. The plastic was starting to crinkle and melt. You could see it poking out from the brim of the liquid. “Next time, just drink the damn thing normally.”

I would if I could.

Logan was already gone by the time you looked back out the window. The sugar packets shook as you stood to leave. The cup rattled. The pen pulsed in your hands. Like it was trying to mimic a heartbeat it no longer had. You could feel your powers radiating through the objects.

That night you played with the lamentation on the corner of a photo.

Your motel room was small but surprisingly homely. There was a TV playing at full volume in the room next door. It kept you awake. Sounded like an action movie. It seemed to go on forever.

The photo was of you and Logan. You still kept it in your wallet. It was hidden behind old coupons and a stick of gum. Sometimes you forget it was even there. Most of the time you self soothed by peeling off the lamentation from the corners. The sides looked like the melting straw in your cup of coffee.

It was 9 pm. You ate most of your sandwich. A corner piece sat in the to-go box on your bed. Someone finally shut the TV off. A dog was barking in the parking lot. Cigarette smoke hugged the air. You put the photo back into your wallet, this time behind your credit card.

“Logan’s phone.” You heard Caliban's voice sing through the line. “Sometimes mine if he lets me use it.”

It was nice to hear from him again. A tracker similar to you but only with mutants. He was always mesmerized by how your powers worked. He used to show you the sketches of the figures you blew into the wind when you whistled. You wondered if he still kept those drawings.

“Hey. It’s me.”

“I know. He’s still got your contact name in his phone.”

You smiled a little. “Is he there?”

“He’s working. Some bachelor party, I think. He’s probably pissed he left his phone here.”

You looked at the fountain pen sitting on the nightstand. “When he gets back, could you tell him we’re headed to Nevada.”

“Nevada? What the hell are you two going to do up there?” He paused for a brief moment as if he just remembered. “Oh yeah. The blood money.”

“Did he promise you a cut too?”

He let out a laugh. “Logan can hardly part with a 5-dollar bill these days. I’ll probably get paid shit for watching Charles while you two go off getting married in some shitty casino or something.”

“It’s just a business trip. Nothing more.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, my friend.”

There was a storm happening outside. The wind howled like a river of ghosts against the motel walls. You thought you heard old teammates and friends whispering in it.

A cough came from the other line. “By the way, if you come across a Vegas snow globe, I’d very much like to add it to my collection.”

“Sure.” The howling outside continued. “Take care, Caliban.”

“You don’t want to ask how Charles is doing?”

You took a sharp inhale. You didn’t need to ask. You knew exactly how he was doing. And you didn’t want to talk about him right now. Maybe some other time. You kept putting it off. You’d deal with that guilt another time.

“I’ll get you that snow globe.” And you hung up.

You fell asleep, still wearing that black dress.

[astraysimp]

Personal Sunshine

Hi bubbies! It is once again my favorite Friday! ……..9mitm Friday! Sadly, this is the second to last chapter. But, it is our sunshine Lixie’s time to shine! @straykeedz we’re almost done 🥺

Summary: you and lixie have only been dating for 4 months, but what happens when a bun in the oven throws a fork in the road of your new relationship?

Warnings: new!relationship trope, dad!felixie and baby bokkie, MARSHMALLOW FLUFF, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of failed condom, pet names, fem!reader, brief talks of periods.

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You and Felix were still in the honeymoon stage of your relationship.Cuddling, holding hands, spending all your spare time together. Time with Felix was time well spent, in your eyes. No matter what you were doing; whether it be watching movies, playing video games, going to a boba cafe, watching Felix play video games. As long as you were with Felix, you were happy and at peace. So, you two were just soaking up the joys of your new relationship. However, you weren’t necessarily expecting a bun in the oven, 4 months into your relationship.

The day you and Felix found out was forever engraved into your mind. Late. You were 5 days late. And that had never happened to you. Sure, you had been so stressed that a period skipped here and there. But, that was rare, only happening once in a blue moon. You, now, especially wouldn’t be stressed when you had the personification and human embodiment of sunshine by your side. 

 Your periods always came like clockwork, ever since you had started getting them. The second week of every month. It was even marked in your calendar with a red marker, even though you knew it came at the same time. So, there you and Felix were; sitting in the bathroom of his apartment, a little white stick on the counter, both of you glad in your matching pajamas.

They had become your favorite pajamas. A soft pink set that Felix had gifted to you for your second date. The date was a simple movie night at his apartment. The pajamas matched his– except his were a soft blue. Made from a soft cotton, the shirt was a button up with a heart shaped breast pocket, littered with small hearts all over. The pants are made from the same material, same heart pattern and cute cuffed ankles. And his were  the same. “Got these for us,” he giggled out, handing you the set when you had entered his apartment, but not without placing a kiss to your lips. “I saw them at the store and thought they were cute. So, I got us a pair,” he added with a pink fluff to his cheeks and ears.

“Lixie pixie? Pixie poo, What does the test say?”

You were sitting on the closed toilet seat, wringing your fingers nervously. A habit of yours that he had picked up on, pretty quickly. Positive? Negative? These were the longest 5 minutes of your life.

Nervous. Scared. Confused. Perplexed. You felt all the emotions surge through your body, like a rampant white water river courses through its stream when you heard the words pass through his plump heart-shaped lips.

“Pregnant. 3-5 days…..but we-we used a condom,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at the pregnancy test. And boy, were those lines clear as day. It was unmistakably positive. 

“Lixie poo…….condoms aren’t 100% effective, pixie poo. We couldn’t have expected it planned this to happen, honey bear.” You slipped out, your hands cupping his cheeks. His eyes were full of uncertainty.  Were you expecting this? No, but you were happy to be experiencing it with him. Placing a kiss to his lips, you made sure he could feel the love in your kiss. “We’ll be okay, yeah?”

You had seen Felix play with babies before, and he with you. So, naturally you both had thought of what life with a baby would be like together. Sure, you didn’t expect to find yourself with a bun in the oven…..but it was still exciting. 

Felix has always been the ideal partner, in any and all imaginable ways. So, as your pregnancy progressed and your body changed, he was there. It seemed to come to him so naturally, as if he was always meant to be a dad—to your baby. He rubbed your aching back, massaged your sore ankles, cooked all your cravings(no matter how absurd they sounded) and did it all with a love filled smile on his face and stars in his eyes.

Each trimester brought its own challenges. Morning sickness, cravings, swelling body, fatigue, your growing bump. But, your sweet Lixie poo was so sweet and caring through the entire 9 months. He  even planned your baby shower. The color theme being soft cream and pastel yellow– the same colors that would decorate Su-Jin’s nursery.

The baby shower was amazing, he made it such a cozy environment. There was balloons, chicken plushies, soft blankets and  decorations everywhere. Felix set up all the catering, making sure there were things to suit everyone’s taste. The games? All planned and picked by Felix. There was a special scratch card that revealed the gender of baby Lee, baby themed bingo, see who could change a diaper the fastest, nursery rhyme word unscramble– and of course there were prizes. Yes, Felix picked the prizes out,too. Making each goodie bag, consisting of an alcohol shooter, glow up toy pacifier, candies and mini ultrasound pictures of your baby. The desserts? That was his forte. Of course, there was a cake–bbokari shaped with a bib on– vanilla flavored with whipped buttercream. Obviously, there was a tray of his signature brownies, cut into baby themed shapes– pacifiers, diapers, teddy bears– there was cookies, in a few flavors.  

Heck, he was amazing— no, he was perfect— through your birth,too. He cried when you cried, held your hands, pressed cool cloths to your forehead, fed you ice chips. Felix made you feel calm, even though he may have been panicking himself. “You’re doing so well, honey bear.” He whispered countless times, as he pushed hair off of your damp forehead. For him, cutting the umbilical cord was the best part, seeing you bring a new life into this world.

They say that the eye of a hurricane is calm, even though a storm rages on around it. Felix was your eye, in the hurricane that was giving birth. He brought you a sense of peace, even if there were doctors and nurses surrounding you. The nurse telling you to push, other nurses scrambling around to have materials ready for when  Su-Jin arrived into the world. None of it mattered as soon as you looked into Felix’s eyes. One soft smile and look at his chocolate brown eyes and you could feel yourself calming. The breath you didn’t know you were holding releasing itself from the confines of your chest.

A new life that you and Felix made through love. Baby Lee was a chubby 8.2 pounds— equipped with the cutest little rolls— , born with ebony locks, big round dark brown boba eyes , heart shaped lips and freckles. Felix cried when he held Su-Jin for the first time, cradling the small bundle in his arms as he sat shirtless– knowing how important skin to skin was for a newborn. “Hi, I’m your daddy, bokkie. It’s so nice to meet you. Me and your mommy have been waiting so long.” He whispered, gently lifting the baby to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

Su-Jin’s eyes had fluttered open, taking in the new world around him before landing back on Felix. Felix smiled, his eyes looking at the baby who mirrored him, a tiny smile on his face. “My Su-Jin.”

So, just imagine a tiny felix and bang….that’s baby bokkie for you. Yes, you and Felix called him baby bokkie— but his name was Su-Jin. Su meaning long life and Jin meaning precious or rare.

Man, he was precious,too. That baby was more cuddly than his daddy, and Felix was cuddly. Baby bokkie cried when out of your or Felix’s arms, only at peace when being cuddled, finding solace and tranquility in the loving embrace of his parents. Not only was he cuddly, but he wasn’t fussy (unless he wasn’t being cuddled). The cutest thing was his giggle, as it matched Felix’s giggle. He was a perfect baby–calm,slept through the night, angelic. An angel on your,your angel.

Now, he is 7 months old and still as giggly as ever. You and Felix were enjoying doing some tummy time with Su-Jin, while on a casual Tuesday afternoon. And let me tell you, that baby loved his tummy time. You were in the kitchen, preparing a light snack for you and Felix and a bottle of milk for Su-Jin. 

Humming to yourself, you smiled as you could hear Felix cooing to his little Su-Jin. “Hiii, angel boy. Are you enjoying tummy time?” Su-Jin only giggled and wriggled his chubby arms and legs around, loud squeals and giggles escaping his mouth. Felix smiled, covering his face with his hands. “Peek a boo!” He laughed, smiling brightly as Su-Jin giggled and tried looking around Felix's hands for his daddy. “Here I am, baby!” Felix smiled, his eyes forming crescent shapes as he uncovered his face with his hands, causing more matching giggles to fall from both Su-Jin and Felix’s lips.

He was laying on the floor, his chunky body clad in the cutest chicken onesie-courtesy of Felix, of course. Felix was laying on the floor in front of Su-Jin, holding a toy out in front of Su-Jin—the toy in question being a plush bbokari. “Jinnie, who is that? Is that bbokari?” He asked, moving the plushie’s arms to wave at his little one. “Hi, Jinnie. it’s me,bbokari!” The sight of his dearest plushie sending a rush of happy squeals through his system.

Su-Jin looooooved his bbokari. Felix had gifted it to him when he was born and now Su-Jin sleeps with it every night, without fail.Wherever Su-Jin went, bbokari went with him. The yellow plush toy clutched in his small arms, as he slept through the night, with soft white noise playing in the background. 

Angelic little high pitched Su-Jin giggles escaped through the air, as his small chubby hands made grabby gestures at the toy. “Do you want bbokari, my little bokkie?” Felix asked, as you moved to sit criss-cross applesauce, next to Felix. Sensing his mama’s presence, Su-Jin’s eyes lit up. He always knew when you were there, his mama senses going off in his little body.

You smiled and leaned forward to smatter an array of kisses to his chubby cheeks,setting his bottle down on the coffee table.. “Hi! Hi my boy!” You giggled, as he kicked his little legs, as a showing of glee and excitement. He had started crawling not too long ago, and soon enough his little legs and arms were carrying himself to you. Giggling, he plonked his little body onto your lap.

Smiling, you picked him up, holding him in front of your face. “Hi Jinnie. Hi my bokkie, awwww, look at you! You’re so cute!” You exclaimed, holding his little body close to yours, as he giggled and placed his hands against your cheeks. “Mommy has a bottle for you, bokkie. Do you want your baba, hm?” You smiled, rocking the baby on your lap.

Leaning forward, you grabbed the bottle, testing the temperature of the milk on your wrist. Not too warm, not too cold, just right. “Come here, pumpkin,” you cooed. Turning Su-Jin on your lap, you laid him across your chest, so he was being cradled. Tucking him against your chest, you smiled as he looked up at you, one of his small hands holding onto your shirt. “Here you go, my angel,” you whispered as you slipped the nipple of the bottle into his mouth, letting him drink.

Placing a kiss to your knee, Felix sat up to be level with you and pressed an open mouthed kiss to your  cheek. “Hi honey bear,” he whispered, resting his cheek against your shoulder as he watched Su-Jin drink.“Hi pixie poo,” You sighed out in return, your eyes looking at each other  softly. Placing a soft kiss to his cheek, you smiled. “We made a cutie, huh, lixie?” You smiled, as Su-Jin’s eyes started fluttering shut .

Setting the now empty bottle down, you smiled as the grip Su-Jin had on your shirt tightened, as his eyes closed. You gently patted his back, “sleepy baby, my sleepy boy.” You cooed, cradling him to your chest. Felix leaned over noticing how Su-Jin had fallen asleep, gripping your shirt with his cheek pressed against your shirt. “Angel boy is all pooped, huh?” Felix giggled, as he gently helped you stand up, walking the familiar path to Su-Jin’s nursery.. “Yeah, suppose we should put him down for his nap, lixie.” You said, rocking the sleeping baby. “Probably, it’s tiring being so cute.” He nodded in agreement. 

You loved his nursery, picking out the color scheme and decor, to  picking out the furniture. The walls painted a soft cream color, little pops of pastel yellow littering the room.  Su-Jin’s crib was cream colored wood, a soft mattress lying inside with cream and yellowed blankets tucked inside. Bbokari was lying in the crib, usually, unless he was with Su-Jin. Which was most of the time. You had a plush cream colored swiveling chair with a matching ottoman, a chair you and Felix had fallen asleep on many times, as you watched the sleeping babe. In the corner was a bookshelf, stocked full of baby books, small plushies. Most important, was his framed birth certificate and picture of you. Felix and Su-jin. Those sat on the middle shelf, where they were proudly on display. His nursery was warm, comforting and emanated love.

Holding a sleeping Su-Jin, you walked to his nursery with Felix following closely behind you. “Here we go, my angel boy,”Felix cooed,softly pushing the door open as you walked to his crib. “Nap time, my prince.” You whispered, noticing that he had completely fallen asleep. “Sssh, shhh. There we go, sweetheart,” You smiled, gently laying him in his crib, settling his bbokari plush in his arms.

He looked at peace. His small face and mind free of any worries? You suppose being a baby didn’t really have many worries, though. Just the next feeding time, when mama or papa would give you more cuddles. It seemed to be a peaceful time for Su-Jin. Just generally, he was a calm baby,though.

Funnily enough, when you gave birth the doctors were worried that he wasn’t crying. He was quiet, maybe a little too quiet. But, very very cute and chunky. Neonatal nurses checked him to be sure that everything was okay— and everything was. “Oh, I guess he’s just a quiet little bun.” The nurse told you, giggling when he seemed to grow more calm and serene in your arms. 

“Night night, my sweet pea,” You whispered, grazing your finger over his cheek, after pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep well, my bokkie.”  Felix whispered, watching as his son slept. All the while, you were switching his small sun shaped night light on— a sun because he was your sunshine, along with Felix.

Ever so quietly, you made your way to the door, switching the light off. Turning to face Felix, you wrapped your arms around his waist. “I can’t believe we made him,” Felix whispered into your hair. Nodding against his chest,your fingertips traced soft shapes over the expanse of his back, that was covered in a soft cotton pajama shirt. “I know, but…he’s all ours, forever.” You smiled, peeking up at him through your eyelashes.

Locking eyes, you held a steady eye contact. Both of your eyes holding nothing but pure unadulterated love and adoration, for not only one another but for Su-Jin. Felix’s eyes were glimmering, stars dancing along his chocolate brown irises– akin to the freckles that danced along his cheeks.

You had seen that look in his eyes before, the first time being when he held Su-Jin for the first time. It was a level of love, different to the lovestruck eyes he gave you. It was a parental love. The kind of loving eyes your parents gave you, his parents gave him. There was no way to verbalize the look, it just held a different feeling of love. A love so pure, so unfiltered, so divinely strong that it brought tears to your eyes.

Yes, Felix always looked at you with love in his eyes. And, you did to him, as well. But the difference between the romantic love eyes  and parental love eyes was incomprehensible. Neither you or Felix were able to vocalize it. It was a feeling, a sense of deeper love, it was warm, comforting. The best you could compare it to was the feeling of wrapping a warm blanket– fresh from the dryer– around your body on a cold night or a hug from your loved ones. The warmth and feeling of a profound love  encompassed your being, surrounding you completely, pausing the world around you for that moment. 

Holding his hand in yours, you made your way back to the living room, where you pulled him to sit next to you on the couch. You and Felix had only been together for 1 year and 8 months–4 months before finding out you were pregnant, 9 months of you carrying baby Su-Jin and 7 months of being parents. But, you knew in your mind, your heart, your soul that you and Felix was the one, he was it for you. And, he felt the same. Every fiber of your being, every atom in your body told you that he was your life partner, your soulmate, your safety.

Looking into his eyes, you smiled. “Where do you see us in 5 years, lixie?” A conversation you had before, knowing you;d still be with one another. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, nestling his cheek on the top of your hair. “You know where I see us,” he giggled, his hand patting your outer thigh. “Still, I wanna know.” You giggled back.

Did you know? Yes. But, you loved hearing him tell you anyway. 

Chuckling, he took your hand in his, his thumb grazing your ring finger. “ I see us married, with another kid or maybe two more . In our own house, the color scheme is cream and soft colors. Our house is cozy, welcoming, loving, just like you. When you walk in, it smells like freshly baked brownies–made by yours truly. Su-Jin and his sibling or siblings running around while you’re playing with them. A dog running around– a golden retriever or king charles cavalier spaniel somewhere around the house.” He relayed to you, as you looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. 

“No matter how many times you tell me, it never gets old,” you whispered. Cupping your cheek, he ran his thumb under your eyes, wiping your tears. “My sunshine, our relationship may have been new and just starting, but my love for you will never get old. Even when we’re old and wrinkly, my love for you will be as brightly burning as the day we met.”

Little did you know, he already bought the ring and it was tucked away in his nightstand

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♡Please don’t steal, copy, edit, translate, repost (on any platform), plagiarize, paraphrase or in anyway claim my works♡ AStraySimp est 2023♡

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[etherealperrie]

The Chart (pt. 2)

"...she is not a mirror in which you reflect, she is of material substance..."

Shane Mccutcheon x OC (Original Character) | The L Word

Word Count: 2.3k

Contains: Queer OC | Reader is a PhD Student in LA | playboy era Shane Mccutcheon | "Solid" by MUNA inspired | Mentions of secondary L Word characters |

Warnings: explicit language, references to drinking/alcohol, and explicit sexual activity

...

There’s nothing worse than a hangover. Jules has handled dozens in her time, but all when she was much younger, more agile to bounce back. Nothing could’ve stopped her the morning after a night out in college – hell, she’d taken one of the most important finals of her life hungover and damn near aced it. But now, not even Tylenol is touching the pounding in her skull. 

Sighing, she drops her head into the cradle of her hands, running her fingers through her hair. Her ‘free for the weekend’ motto hadn’t considered that her more productive self made an appointment in the library archives at seven the next morning. She mumbles some half-hearted words of encouragement to herself before shifting in her seat and taking a deep breath. On the exhale she swipes the hair from her neck up into a mangled mess away from her eyes. There’s no one else here – everyone else is home properly recovering, or, maybe waking up with that stranger from the night before in their bed. 

Jules would much prefer that to this. On the circumstance that it might be Shane. She can’t quite shake the vision of her from her mind, having tossed and turned over her all night. Not to say Jules regrets leaving her at the bar, but she can’t stop imagining what it would have been like to stay. The heat of Shane’s fingerprints are burned into the skin around her hip, the taste of Marlboro reds somehow still on her lips. 

“Juliana?” A voice interrupts her daydreams. “Did you want me to get the next box down for you?”

An older woman from the archives stands in front of Jules, her hands perched on the desk for support. Jules shakes her head, clearing her throat. Right, the research. The whole reason she’s here in the first place. The project that quite literally drove her to drinking over the weekend. 

“Please.” 

The woman nods and turns on her heel back down to the front of the room, her skirt swishing with each step. Jules looks back to the papers sprawled across her desk. There are a few photos scattered about, one catching her attention. Picking it up carefully – by the edges as she was instructed prior to entering the archives – she squints to make out the image. 

There’s a blonde woman standing in front of what looks to be a whiteboard full of markings she can’t quite make out. The woman is smiling, obnoxiously big, her pixie cut sticking up in various directions. Jules chuckles, flipping the photo over, a caption scrawled in blue ink on the back. 

Alice Piezecki showcasing ‘The Chart’. Color. 2004.

She can’t stop herself from wondering about the context of the photo. More importantly, how did something this recent make it into the archives so quickly? It’s less than five years old. And into the box she specifically requested, labeled, “A Queer History of Los Angeles County”?. Though, most importantly, how did she not recognize this woman or whatever this chart was? Jules taps her fingers against the desk. It’s maybe not surprising, though, one could study queer history all their lives and never fully experience all its aspects. And Jules’ life has, quite literally, been here – in the California University School of Arts library – since she started her program four years ago. 

Jules flips the photo back over. She stares at the glossy paper, the unintelligible writing on the whiteboard coming to life. It’s a list of names. Well, not a list but a chart, all of the names connected to one another by lines of varying color. Some of the names are emphasized, bolded or circled, somehow noting their significance over others. Most of the names are unfamiliar to her, but Jules jots them all down in her notebook, underlining where appropriate. All of these women, tied together somehow. 

She continues down the line, her handwriting devolving to scrawl, the list impossibly long. Francesca, Marina, Max, Jenny…

Shane. 

Jules stops, her eyes lifting from the paper. A name she recognizes. A name both bolded, underlined, and circled. Her heart pounds in her chest although she’s sitting firmly in her chair. For a second she swears the library has transformed into the club, Shane’s dark eyes staring directly at her. The Chart. The women outside the bathroom. 

“Tell Shane to fuck you in the men’s room next time.” 

Jules laughs to herself. She was so drunk she thought those women were genuinely upset about her and Shane preventing their access to the bathroom. She turns her attention back to the chart, shaking her head with disbelief as she follows the myriad of lines connecting Shane’s name to what appeared to be hundreds of others. She may as well add her own now. She jots it down in her notebook. 

Jules. 

Part of her is angry, her face red with embarrassment. The other part of her can’t believe the discovery she’s just made. Something like this – the chart – would be integral to her dissertation. Before she’s able to make up her mind on her true feelings, the woman from the archives is calling her name from across the room, lifting the next box. Jules listens to the swooshing of her skirt as she approaches, breathing through her cacophony of emotions. 

“Here you go, dear,” she says, setting the box down onto the desk with a thud. “Can I do anything else for ya?” 

Jules smiles, lifting the photo up. “Yeah, could I get a copy of this?” 

…

Sunday morning. Sun streams in through the window, bathing the bedroom in a wash of yellow light. Cars honk on the street outside as dozens of locals make their morning commutes. Shane wakes to the light, crossing an arm over her eyes as she yawns. It’s bright. Too bright. She flips over onto back, knocking into something – no, someone – in her bed as she adjusts to her surroundings. 

The room is familiar, her own. 

“Fuck,” she groans. She made a rule a few months ago to go anywhere but back to her own place. It made things easier, much less messy – figuratively and literally. Shane wouldn’t have to worry about women getting attached and she could disappear without consequence. She’s always been good at that. 

“Well good morning,” the woman mumbles, turning to face Shane. She’s pretty, they always are. Her eyes are brown, doe-like, her chin-length red hair splayed out on the pillows, her bangs hanging just above her long, fluttering lashes. 

Shane smiles briefly before pushing herself up and out of the bed. She can’t linger here with this woman even if she might want to. Anyway, she couldn’t really remember where they met – The Planet? No, that was Thursday night. The club, maybe? A memory washes over her, being left in the bathroom stall by that nameless blonde. She needed to get off, to soothe her bruised ego? Maybe, but Shane wouldn’t admit that to anyone out loud. Rejection is uncomfortable, it doesn’t happen to her often. 

“Yeah, good morning,” Shane replies, crossing the room to slip on a t-shirt. She checks herself in the mirror, ruffling her hair until it settles in a way she likes. She turns back to the woman, whose name she couldn’t remember, who’s now sitting up in her bed, the covers slipping down her nude chest. God, Shane could easily give it all up and dive right back into those sheets. She bites the inside of her lip, holding herself to where she stands near the window. “I, uh, forgot I have a couple of clients to get to today.” It’s a lie. She plans on keeping the shop closed today, one of the perks to owning her own salon. In all honesty Shane doesn’t have any plans. 

“Oh.” The woman sighs, nodding. She’s clearly disappointed. Shane looks away when she rolls out from under the covers, fully nude, quickly dressing in her outfit from last night. When she sees the ‘Kit Porter’ branded t-shirt, it all comes flooding back. The alluring eyes that met her as she left the bathroom, the beckoning finger she gave this woman, and the way she could barely make out the road on the drive home, what with this woman all over her. Shane was shameless, she’d have fucked this woman right in the middle of the club, but she’d already been turned down once. Which is how they ended up here, in Shane’s room. 

“Do you need a ride?” Shane asks, raising an eyebrow. 

The woman shakes her head. “No, I’m good. I just, uh, here –” she bends over to pick her bag up off the floor, pulling out a pen. She pulls the cap off and closes the space between her and Shane in a few small steps. Shane chuckles, shaking her head, women never cease to amaze her. She loves them, loves this game of push and pull. I want you, but I’m going to hope you chase me. But Shane doesn’t chase, she doesn’t need to. 

She doesn’t object when the woman takes her hand and flips it over, writing a string of numbers on her palm. The woman smirks, rolling Shane’s hand into a fist and kissing it when she’s finished. “Call me, okay?” 

“Okay,” Shane replies, swerving when the woman comes in for a kiss. The woman laughs and pulls away. Shane watches as she saunters out of the room and out the front door. 

She wonders where she’ll go and if they’ll ever see each other again. Los Angeles, despite its size, is somehow incredibly small. She’d see her again, Shane knows it, and she hopes the woman won’t be upset when they run into one another months from now, when she realizes that Shane never called. 

It’s not her fault, it’s just the way Shane’s wired. 

She yawns, shrugging her shoulders, and swipes her phone from the dresser dialing a familiar number. 

“I can’t believe it!” Alice laughs, tossing her head back. 

Tina slides into the booth, her hands wrapped around a tall cappuccino. She raises an eyebrow, looking between Alice and Shane. 

“Believe what?” she asks. 

Helena leans in, reaching for an almond croissant sitting on the plate in the center of the table. The Planet is where the girls ‘break bread’, debriefing their nights and latest escapades. Though, sometimes, Shane would prefer to keep things a bit closer to her chest, especially the way they’ve blown up the incident of the night prior back at the club. 

“Shane was left high and dry at SheBar last night,” Helena says between bites.

Tina laughs. “Losing your power, Shane?” 

Shane shakes her head. “We were interrupted, she got spooked, no big deal.” She shrugs and sits back against the booth, sinking down into the leather seat. 

“Just admit it, Shane,” Alice pokes. “This girl had a moment of clarity and didn’t want to fuck you!” 

“What does it matter?” Bette interjects, lifting her arm from around Tina’s shoulders to interrupt. “It’s not like she went home alone.” A smile creeps onto Bette’s lips, feeling smug as she picks at the crumbs of a muffin. 

Shane shoots her a look. She was certain no one saw her leave with her redhead accomplice. Shane should’ve known nothing gets past Bette. She’s always been hyper observant. 

Alice scoffs, rolling her eyes in disbelief. “I’d say I’m surprised, but I should learn to expect nothing less from you, Shane.” 

Max looks up from his computer for the first time since they all gathered at the table. “Fuck, Shane, I just finished updating the site.” 

This elicits a confused look from the entire group, the taunts towards Shane finally ceasing. 

“The site?” Shane asks, thankful for the attention off of her for a few seconds. 

Alice and Max share a look. 

“I’m having Max put the chart online, you know, make it more…interactive.” 

“The chart?” Tina repeats. “The chart from your apartment?” 

“Our Chart,” Max clarifies. He flips his laptop around to showcase the website to the table. There’s a spindling web of lines connecting various names together. Everyone at the table recognizes their own names, following their own little universes of connection. Max taps on his own name to demonstrate, his cosmo filled with two lines, one to Jenny and another to a name Shane didn’t recognize. 

“Alice, this is ridiculous,” Bette says, directing Max back to the mainpage. “These are the intimate details of people’s sex lives.” 

“And they love it!” Alice defends. 

Shane leans back in her seat. It didn’t matter to her. She couldn’t really understand the obsession with the chart in the first place, when Alice first drafted it. She remembers being in her apartment the day Alice created it, snapping a photo of her. She remembers seeing her own name circled in red ink, her web taking up near half of the whiteboard. She didn’t care. Shane never makes it a point to keep track of her sexual conquests, she simply enjoys getting off when and where she can, with who she can. The human connection. The body of a woman – the way it feels, the way they taste, the warmth of skin against skin. 

“Listen, all I know is that we’ve got just over a thousand hits and the site has only been up for a couple of days.” 

“A thousand?” Helena echoes Max’s statement. He nods. 

“Well shit, Al,” Shane chuckles, taking a sip of her coffee. “To Our Chart.” She raises her glass and Alice smiles proudly, knocking their mugs together.

[estellan0vella]

Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter Twenty Three: Being Human Fucking Sucks SS: 5 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 2.2K Content Warnings:

Previous Next Masterlist

Ayame steps into the office early the next day, her heels echoing sharply against the polished floors. The usual hum of the office is absent this early, leaving only the faint buzz of the overhead lights and the soft thud of her bag as she sets it down. Her gaze lands immediately on the small, unmarked box sitting squarely in the middle of her desk.

Frowning, she carefully inspects it, her fingers grazing the edges. It's plain, no markings or notes to identify the sender. She tugs at the tape, peeling it back slowly, and lifts the lid. Her breath catches when she sees what's inside. A tiny red collectable car. One of Chan's. The same type she'd teased him about during her snooping at his penthouse.

Her lips press together, her emotions swirling somewhere between confusion, amusement, and something softer she doesn't dare name. She picks up the car, its smooth metal cool against her fingertips, and sets it on her desk, angling it toward her monitor like a new desk companion. "Subtle, Bang Chan," she mutters, shaking her head. A small smile escapes before she can stop it.

Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a small box of her own, one she'd brought on impulse that morning. Inside is a tiny Smurf figurine. One of the many duplicates she kept around. She takes it over to Chan's desk, placing it dead centre, and leans back to admire her handiwork.

"Your move, Care Bear," she whispers, her smirk growing.

As she turns to head back to her desk, faint voices from Haechul's office catch her attention. She slows her steps, her ears straining to pick up the words. Haechul's voice, booming and unmistakable, carries easily through the slightly ajar door.

"It's a dangerous time for men these days, Chan," Haechul says, his tone dripping with condescension. "If we don't stick together, then pixie twigs like Lim are going to be running the world on lipstick and feelings. I can tell you, I didn't start this company to have my balls crushed by some idiot in a push-up bra. Do you hear me?"

Ayame's stomach twists violently. Her nails dig into the palms of her hands as she steps closer to the door, her breath caught in her throat.

"Loud and clear," comes Chan's voice. It's calm, smooth, and utterly unreadable.

Haechul's laughter is low and self-satisfied. "I have a vision for this company, and I'm counting on you to make it happen. Do you have a strategy? A plan?"

"I do," Chan replies evenly. "It's already underway."

"Good," Haechul says, clearly pleased. "I told you she'd back off if you let her think she had a chance with you. Glad you took my advice."

Ayame freezes, her body going cold. Her head swims as the words hit her like a slap across the face. Her mind races, replaying every interaction, every touch, every word between them. It all crashes into her like a wave, dragging her under.

"Let me know if you need anything to help you cinch this thing," Haechul adds, his voice dismissive, as though sealing a deal.

Chan's response is clipped, his tone unbothered. "I don't need any help beating her."

Ayame stumbles back, her heel catching on the corner of a nearby plant stand. She catches herself just in time, her hand shaking as she steadies the wobbling pot. Her breath comes in short, sharp bursts as she clamps a hand over her mouth, stifling the nausea clawing its way up her throat.

She doesn't wait to hear more. She walks briskly to her desk, grabs her bag with trembling hands, and heads for the door. Each click of her heels against the floor echoes like a drumbeat in her ears. She doesn't look back, doesn't pause. The only thing she knows is that she needs to get out of there before the weight of the betrayal crushes her completely.

Minho looks up from his laptop when Ayame bursts into his office like a storm breaking through a calm sky. His usual cheeky smirk vanishes, replaced by immediate concern when he sees the redness around her eyes, the way her chest rises and falls like she's trying to catch her breath, and how tightly she's clutching her bag, as if it's the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Maknae?" he says softly, rising from his chair. His voice is uncharacteristically serious. "What happened? Who do I need to kill?"

Ayame tries to speak, but her voice cracks, and she shakes her head violently, fresh tears spilling over. She scrubs at her face with the sleeve of her blazer, but it's no use. Her hands are trembling, and her breaths come in sharp, uneven gasps.

Minho doesn't hesitate. He moves around his desk in two quick strides and places his hands gently on her shoulders. "Hey. Breathe. Just breathe, okay? Slow down, Ayame."

"I—" Her voice falters, and she chokes on the words. "I can't—"

Minho cuts her off, his tone firm but gentle. "You don't have to talk right now. Come on, let's get out of here. You need coffee—or vodka. Or both."

Ayame nods quickly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip to keep from breaking down entirely. Minho grabs his coat from the back of his chair and slings it over his shoulder. Without a word, he guides her out of the office, his hand steady and warm against her back as they move down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" she mumbles, her voice barely audible over the pounding in her ears.

"Somewhere quiet," Minho replies. His tone is calm, but there's a dangerous edge lurking beneath it, the kind that promises retribution for whoever hurt her. "I don't care if it's a coffee shop or a fucking church. You need space to breathe."

Minho and Ayame sit tucked away in the back corner of the coffee shop, far from the bustling counter and the cheerful murmur of other patrons. The rich aroma of roasted beans fills the air, but it does little to soothe the tension radiating between them. Ayame stares at her untouched latte, her fingers absently picking at the paper sleeve, while Minho studies her intently, his dark eyes searching her face for answers.

"What happened?" Minho asks, his voice softer than she's used to. There's no teasing edge, no smirk, just genuine concern.

Ayame hesitates, swallowing hard as she gathers her thoughts. Finally, she takes a deep breath and starts recounting everything she overheard in Haechul's office. Her voice wavers at times, and her hands tremble as she describes the sneering tone Haechul used, the vile words he spat about her, and, worst of all, Chan's calm agreement.

By the time she's finished, Minho's jaw is tight, his knuckles white from gripping his mug like it's the only thing stopping him from flipping the table. He sets it down with a sharp clink that makes Ayame flinch.

"What the actual fuck?" he says, his voice low but vibrating with fury. "That slimy, misogynistic piece of shit. I mean, I knew Haechul was bad, but this? And Chan, what the fuck is wrong with him? Pretending to care about you just to get ahead? That's beyond fucked."

Ayame shrugs, her lips pressed tightly together as she stares down at her drink. "I feel stupid, oppa," she says quietly. "I mean, flirting is one thing, but pretending to have feelings? That's a whole other level. I let myself believe-" Her voice cracks, and she stops, biting her lip hard enough to hurt.

Minho leans forward, yanking a napkin from the dispenser and gently dabbing at her cheek. "Hey, don't you fucking dare," he says, his tone soft but firm. "Don't you let him make you feel stupid. You are not stupid, Ayame. You're human."

She sniffs, snatching the napkin from his hand. "Yeah, well, being human fucking sucks right now."

"I'm not arguing with that," Minho says. "But you didn't get played because you're dumb. You got played because you have a goddamn heart, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for him or Haechul."

Ayame takes a shaky sip of her latte, her hands still trembling slightly. "I let my guard down. He's such a good actor, oppa. It was all just a fucking game to him."

Minho exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Fear not, my sweet maknae. You're going to walk into that boardroom, nail that interview, and take that job right out from under his smug, lying ass. Then you're going to make him watch as you crush it every single fucking day until he regrets the day he ever tried to play you."

Ayame's lips twitch into a small, bitter smile. "And what about Haechul?"

Minho leans back, crossing his arms. "Oh, don't worry about him. I'll handle Haechul. I'm thinking of a well-timed HR investigation into his extracurricular activities, maybe a few anonymous tips about workplace harassment. Let's see how long he keeps that slimy grin on his face."

Ayame chuckles weakly, wiping at her eyes. "And Chan?"

Minho grins darkly. "Justice demands that Chan lives a long, lonely life sucking on Haechul's nasty, small dick. It's poetic, really."

Ayame chuckles weakly, taking a tentative sip of her latte. Just as she sets the cup down, the bell over the door chimes, and a familiar figure steps into the café. Ayame freezes, her heart skipping a beat as Chan spots her and walks over.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, her tone colder than ice.

"I was looking for you," Chan says cautiously, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Thought I'd join you for a coffee."

Ayame stares at him, her eyes hard. "I don't like you enough to get coffee with you."

Minho arches an eyebrow, looking between them as Chan's face falters. For a split second, there's something vulnerable in his expression, but he quickly masks it. "My mistake," he says quietly before turning on his heel and leaving the café.

Minho smirks as he watches Chan walk away. "I taught you well, my sweet Aya."

Ayame smiles weakly, the pain still etched in her features. "I've got to go back to work soon."

Minho reaches across the table, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Well, now you won't fall for his shit again."

"Not making that mistake twice," Ayame says firmly, draining the rest of her latte before standing. Despite her resolve, her heart feels heavy as she gathers her things and heads back to the office.

The office is a minefield of tension that afternoon. Ayame sits at her desk, glaring at her laptop screen, her fingers flying over the keyboard. She finally looks up and calls across to Chan, who is engrossed in his paperwork.

"Do we have confirmation on that blog running Stripping Time?" she asks, her tone clipped.

Chan doesn't look up. "CC'd you on the email," he says dismissively, jotting something down with his pen.

Ayame narrows her eyes, turning back to her screen. "Well, the email isn't in my inbox that I am literally looking at right now on my laptop, you sociopath."

Chan exhales sharply, finally glancing her way. "Then you're either blind or lying. As usual."

Her jaw tightens, and she slams her laptop shut. "I don't lie."

"You lie all the time," Chan retorts, his voice calm but cutting. "You just don't see it as lying because you're telling people what they want to hear."

Ayame scoffs, crossing her arms. "Name one time I've done that."

Chan leans back in his chair, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "You told me you were in this too. That you were in us."

The words hit her like a slap. For a moment, she can only gape at him. Then her anger boils over. "Holy shit, you are actually going to play this game the whole way through, aren't you?" she laughs, standing up. "That's what I don't get! Throw me off my game, fine. Flirt with me, mess with my head, whatever. But you- You're—"

"Not nice?" Chan finishes dryly.

"I thought you were, somewhere under the layers of psychological damage," Ayame spits. "But it turns out you'll just do whatever it takes to win and make your daddy proud. You know what? I'm so glad I puked all over you because I am this close to doing it again!" She holds her fingers inches apart, trembling with fury.

Chan pushes back from his desk, rising to meet her glare. "What is wrong with you?!"

"I heard you with Haechul," Ayame says, her voice dangerously low.

Chan falters, the mask slipping for a fraction of a second. "And?"

Ayame's lips curl into a bitter smile. "I think if he found out you'd slept with me, he'd throw a fucking parade in your honour."

"That's not what-" Chan starts, but the door swings open, and Haechul strides in like he owns the place.

"Chan," Haechul barks. "I'm gonna need those projections on my desk by Friday."

Chan straightens, his voice clipped. "I don't have time. Ayame can do it."

Haechul smirks, his eyes flicking to Ayame. "Lim, care to grow some hair on your balls and step up?"

Ayame's breath catches, but she quickly recovers, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know, Haechul, I would love to, but I doubt an idiot in a push-up bra would be much help to you."

Haechul shrugs carelessly. "Fine. Chan, projections. My desk. Friday."

He turns and walks out, leaving a tense silence in his wake. Ayame grabs her coat and bag, her movements sharp and deliberate. She strides over to Chan's desk, her expression blazing with defiance.

"There is no way in hell I'm letting you and Haechul destroy this place," she says firmly. Her voice is low, but every word is sharp as a knife.

Before Chan can respond, she spins on her heel and storms out of the office, leaving him standing there, stunned and silent.

Taglist: @fackeraccount @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @reimaybeidk

@ismelllikechlorine247 @drewsandsebastianswife @my-neurodivergent-world @rhonnie23 @hanji-coffee

@skzleeknowcore

[redo-rewind-if]

Victoria/Victor Zhang (she/her or he/him | 31) often seems cold and serious, wielding their glare like a weapon. But you know there must be more hidden under the surface.

Victoria keeps her straight black hair in a neat, short pixie cut. Usually gelled back without a strand out of place.

Victor prefers to wear his straight black hair long, held in a tidy ponytail. You'd wager it hit around his waist, if he ever wore it down.

They have honey brown eyes, pale skin, and cheekbones that could cut glass. V stands at a respectable 5'8" with an elegant build. They don't have any visible scars but they do have a small beauty mark just to the left and below their bottom lip.

V is practically always seen wearing formal business attire. A suit, perfectly polished loafers, with a tie neatly in place. Pinstripes. They tend to stick to a monochrome color scheme with the occasional navy blue.

August Astaire (he/him | 27) is an interesting man, always wearing a dagger sharp grin you can't tell is real or fake.

His dark brown wavy hair falls messily down to his shoulders in a way that should look terrible but (unfortunately) doesn't. Complimented by his fair skin and pale green eyes.

August is on the taller side (5'11"), with a slender but muscular build. He has numerous scars, the most notable of which runs up from his jaw onto his right cheek. He also has a couple of tattoos, including a full sleeve on his left arm made up of thorny red roses and black butterflies.

August is most well known for his signature red coat he wears nearly year round. Yes, even in the summer. Beyond that, he is often seen wearing plunging v necks, tight pants, and boots. His entire wardrobe seems to be nothing but black and red with not a single other color in sight.

Amara Ingram (she/her | 25) carries herself with a sunny, carefree disposition. But don't underestimate her, appearances can be deceiving after all.

Her shoulder length black hair falls in tight curls that halo her head, her warm brown eyes shine with an unexpected cunning, all complimented by her dark brown skin.

Amara stand proudly at 5'5" with a fairly average build (not extremely slim nor very muscular). She has a handful of scars on her hands, arms, and legs from a few small engineering accidents. (Nothing to see here! I swear!)

She prefers comfortable, practical clothes above all else. Loose fit jeans, chunky sweaters, sneakers and sandals all rank among her favorites. She leans towards a more neutral color palette with some small pops of bright color here and there as accents.

[queenofbaws]

Ohh, never sent anything like this your way and so I don't want to take the reigns too much! But I loved some of the prompts you RBed. Maybe "I keep thinking that something must be wrong with me. Even right now, it feels like I'm ten feet away from myself." In relation to anything Supermassive (UD/Quarry maybe) because I love love how you write fics for those games; take it anyway you'd please. I just super enjoyed the prompt lol

not-quite-six sentence weekend :P

The whole thing had seemed like a joke at first, just another way that the universe could grab them by the ankles, give them a good hard shake, then grab up all the loose change that spilled from their pockets while their heads were spinning. Things had been normal before camp - things had made sense. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and the things that went bump in the night were usually just your imagination or one of your pets knocking into something in the dark.

But now there were monsters. Now it was impossible to tell where reality ended and make-believe began. Now...

Well, now they were in a dingy little basement that reeked of burnt coffee, sitting on uncomfortable foldout chairs. It had to be the strangest support group that'd ever existed, bar none, and even that wasn't going the way it should've been...not with the other quote-unquote survivors doing what they were doing. Most of them were fine, but the Blackwood Bunch?

Oh. Oh, the Hacketteers were pretty fed up with them.

"So there I am, soaked to the bone, wearing someone else's clothes, I'm tired, I'm hungry, everything hurts, and it's like...every time I thought things were going to be okay, I...I ended up alone again. It was just...way too much. Insult to injury, you know?" Emma let the rest of her breath out in a heavy exhale, anxiously tucking her hair behind her ears. Per the usual, she hadn't let stage fright stop her from going at the first opportunity she was given, working her way through her story with tight smiles and shallow laughs. She licked her lips, took another breath, and -

"You think that's bad," Jessica spoke up from across the way, the collection of chairs a little too sloppy to be called a 'circle,' per se, "try having frostbite. And a concussion. And being in your underwear for most of it."

There was a ripple of low chatter from a couple of the others - not the Hacketteers, not the Blackwoods, but the others, the ones who'd been watching with slow-growing amusement and exasperation as their strange turf war had developed. In voices too low for the (warring factions) rest of them to hear, a man missing a suspiciously clean chunk of his ear leaned over to murmur, "Bet this is the one where they start throwing chairs," only for a woman with a garishly bright red pixie cut to dip her chin and respond, "Twenty bucks and you're on."

At the forefront, Emma's smile tightened, becoming something automatic. Automatonic, really. "I was in my underwear for a lot of it, actually."

"No frostbite, though," Mike cut in, happy enough to take over Jess's argument for her. "Seriously, you guys don't even know what you're talking about, okay? Like, yeah, sure, I know you got scared or whatever, but until you're fighting for your life out in subzero temps? Pfft. You don't know what it means to survive."

"Says the guy who stuck his hand in a bear trap," Jacob shot back, not bothering to lower his voice.

Mike had been ready, though. "Says the guy who stepped into a snare, then stepped into a bear trap, then...wait, wait, how'd he put it last time?" he asked, making a show of turning to Emily, then Jess, then craning his head around to Sam. "Oh! Right. Got dragged into a hillbilly sex dungeon. All in one night. Rip on the bear trap all you want, my guy, my one moment of dumbassery hardly stacks up to you going full fucking Loony Tunes. Walk off any cliffs while you were at it? Try and blow out a stick of dynamite thinking it was a birthday candle?"

"Hey man, that's not fair!" It was then that Nick threw his hat into the ring, sticking up for Jacob's case without a moment of hesitation. "You guys weren't down there! You have no idea what it was like, being in those cages all night!"

"Uh, hang on. A-a-agree to disagree." Chris was the one who spoke that time, but Ashley had lifted a finger beside him, the two of them seemingly lodging their complaint as a unit. "If we want to talk about dungeon experience, you...you really don't have a leg to stand on here, man. Sorry. You don't. Ash and I were in a fucking Saw movie, okay? So, I-I-I'm sorry that like, you got to sit for most of the night, but - "

"I was a fucking werewolf, dude!" Nick fired back, actually getting to his feet. "A monster! You don't have the first idea what that's like! My body exploded, I almost killed Abi, I...things still feel wrong! I still feel wrong! It's like...sometimes I don't even think this is my real body anymore, like I'm here, but I'm also standing ten feet away from myself! You don't get to just act like you've been there, done that - fuck that!"

A clearing of a throat. An unnecessarily loud, pointed sniff.

And then Josh entered the fray.

"Yeah. Know what? True. True that. Not a one of us - and I mean this, Nicholas - not a single one of us has any idea what it's like to be possessed by something otherworldly, flung around according to its whims, changed beyond recognition, and then woken up to realize, aw shit, it's Monday isn't it? I need to get to work pronto, but I'm just covered in all this gross, sticky blood!" Slowly, moving with deliberation, he straightened in his seat, the reconstruction scars on his face almost gone but not quite, his left eye catching the light in that eerie way human eyes weren't supposed to. "Shit. Wait. Hang on. That's not what I meant to say. Sorry, haven't had any of that coffee burbling away on the counter yet, and you know I'm not myself until I've had my coffee, hee hee, ha ha, hoo hoo. What I meant to say was - eat my whole, entire ass. Get back to me when you can describe the taste of human flesh to me, how's about that?"

She'd been quiet until then, but Abi raised her hands in a silent plea for them to stop, scrambling to take hold of the back of Nick's shirt when he took a single step forward towards Josh. "Guys! Guys, hey, this...I...fighting isn't helping stuff, okay? We should just - "

"Okay. Honestly? Sorry, not sorry, I'm on their side with this one," Laura piped in, the Blackwood gang sneering as the Hacketteers whirled. "You guys have...no idea what a hard time is, okay? Yeah, wow, yikes, werewolves. Try being in a jail cell for two months, never knowing if the weirdo who kidnapped you was going to let you go, kill you, bring you something to eat, or just stand outside your cell breathing too hard. On top of the werewolf thing! On top of it!"

"Yeah, like, not for nothing, but we didn't even get to make friendship bracelets, you know?" agreed Max, still nodding right along with Laura.

"They didn't even get to make friendship bracelets," Emily repeated, sadly shaking her head.

"Big talk. Real big talk. I'm sorry, did any of you walk away from your weird little winter getaway missing a limb?" Dylan asked. "No. Didn't think s - "

"Chris messed up his knee!" Ashley snapped. "Mike's missing fingers! Sam's, like, almost totally deaf in her one ear now! You can't just - "

"Yeah, I'm sorry, you didn't get fucking mauled," Emily cut in, speaking over Ashley as she yanked her shirt to one side, revealing the massive scar on her shoulder. "Don't complain about - "

"Pretty sure I got mauled, actually! Pretty sure a few of us got mauled, in fact! You don't - "

"You guys weren't lost underground for hours, trying to find your way out." Matt, that time, his usual stoic silence thrown by the wayside. "Pitch black. In a maze. Hearing something hunt you - "

"Wow. All due respect, dude? You weren't listening to our story at all, were you?" Ryan accused. "We - "

And with that, the meeting devolved the way it always did, all of the younger survivors pointing fingers and shouting, comparing wounds and battle scars, stacking their traumas on top of one another's like Pokemon cards. It wasn't the most therapeutic of ways to go about things, of that there could be no doubt, but...it must've been doing something, because they kept showing up every week.

The world was a strange place, after all. It only made sense that they'd be strange now too.

[ramblinganthropologist]

N7 24 - 11 and 12 (Shepherd and Situationship)

Summary: Al's got some new crew on the Normandy and people are beginning to wonder what alien he's going to recruit next. Not only that, but... is he hate fucking the turian?

Come on, people, this is supposed to be a war ship...

---

You know, if Anderson had told him being the CO was going to involve so many headaches, he would’ve let Bo have the job.

Alistair groaned as he stepped away from his computer, cracking his sore neck in the process. He had been working for two hours, going over various reports that had been sent since he had been planet side. It was a lot of numbers and figures, and he could see them even when he closed his eyes. If that wasn’t a sign he needed to take a break, he didn’t know what was.

Even better, his omni-tool’s CGM was beeping.

“I thought my tongue was going numb, but I thought it was from boredom.” He frowned as he flipped his wrist over to view the numbers – 54 with the arrows trending downward. “Well, that’s not good.”

He glanced around the room, eyes falling on a box labeled ‘emergency sugar supply’ on the desk. Unfortunately, it was empty – he had used it up after picking up Liara on Therum. Apparently, driving the Mako through lava fields had taken it out of him.

So, off to find a better supply it was.

Shaking his head, CGM quieted for a moment, Alistair left the office behind. Outside, it was busy as always as the crew got something to eat in their off time. He nodded to them as he passed, heading for the fridge. For a low like this, only one thing would do.

The biotics called them adult juice boxes – they were liquid energy supplies. He usually preferred his emergency supply – it was hard to beat his recipe for homemade pixie sticks frankly – but beggars couldn’t be choosers at the moment. As long as it got his sugar up, he didn’t care.

“Doing ok, Commander?”

He picked up his head, glancing over his shoulder. The voice was coming from Kaidan, who also had a pouch of liquid energy. That wasn’t surprising – he had been on the last mission after all. Anyone would’ve needed a refill after that.

“Oh, Kaidan.” He nodded as he poked the straw in. Sipping on the straw took some effort thanks to his numb lips and tongue, but he managed to drink it without having it drip from his mouth. “I will be in 15 minutes. Guess I went harder than I expected.”

His fellow biotic nodded. “I thought I heard your CGM going off when you came out. How low is it this time?”

“54 and going down. The real annoying beeping is going to start soon if I don’t refuel.” Alistair  took another sip. That was the last thing he needed – too low and it was impossible to shut off for long. He would have to keep hitting the button on his wrist until his sugar rose.

Nobody wanted that.

They stood there for a moment, sipping their energy supplies. An uncomfortable tension hung over the air, and he found it hard to look at Kaidan directly. It was a miracle his cheeks weren’t heating up because his face certainly felt hot.

He should’ve been over this by now. After all, it had been over a month ago, before he had even become the CO. It hadn’t been that big of a deal – just a request to have dinner that got turned down politely. It happened every day.

At least that’s what he told himself when the embarrassment threatened to spread onto his face with a spread of pink and eventually red.

“So, is Liara settling in ok?” Thank God he changed the subject. Kaidan was a good one for reading the room – no doubt he had sensed the same tension he had felt. “She was a little shaken up when we got her back on the Normandy.”

Ugh – Alistair hid his expression with a sip of energy supply. He didn’t have problems with the asari, per se, but… she made him a little uncomfortable. It was the way she had looked at him when he had stopped by to check on her. He was probably just reading into it too much, but… yeah it didn’t sit right with him.

Still, Kaidan was expecting an answer.

“I stopped by earlier to see how she was doing.” His tongue was starting to come back to life, so it was easier to drink. “She seemed ok to me. No doubt it’s a little weird to be surrounded by so many humans.”

After all, even though the Normandy had been designed by both turians and humans, it was really only run by the latter. She was the only asari, and she brought the total number of aliens on ship up to 4.

 At least she could eat the same food as they did. It had been a right pain to get supplies for Garrus and Tali. Luckily, the Alliance had nutrient paste they could eat. It didn’t look appetizing, but it was food. Maybe it tasted better than it smelled? For all he knew, it was just his human perception that it was terrible.

Probably because he was sitting there, he was able to pick up some talk from the crew eating their meals. It was a side-effect of losing his eye – he relied on his hearing more on his bad side. Since he was standing on the right of Kaidan, his good ear was towards the table.

“How many more aliens is he going to bring onto the ship?”

“What do you think he’ll find next, a salarian?”

“No way a salarian will come on the same ship as a krogan.”

Alistair frowned as he took the words in. Part of him had assumed the crew might not be too happy about sharing their ship with other races. While he was pretty sure none of them were card carrying members of Terra Firma – that would make their job difficult – he had heard muttering as he went about his duties.

This was just a confirmation of that.

Kaidan saw the look on his face and frowned as well. “Problem, Shepard?”

He shrugged, turning his good ear away from the table. “Apparently, some people don’t like our new friends.”

Was he going to have to run some type of workplace training? Did the Alliance even have a module for dealing with alien crewmates? Probably not – it wasn’t exactly known for taking in other races. He was most likely going to have to write it himself.

Just what he needed – another duty on his plate.

“They’re just getting used to them. Give it a week, maybe two.”

Alistair snorted in a very not-commanding officer way. “Sure, a week is all it’s going to take to get rid of years of distrust.”

He sighed. “I guess I better go check on everyone after I finish up to make sure nobody on the crew is giving them problems.”

He wasn’t worried about Wrex for obvious reasons. If his gun didn’t scare people away, his biotics would. Alien-shy humans didn’t tend to be too nervous around asari, so Liara was probably fine as well. Garrus was a maybe, but he was most concerned for Tali. They were the ones he would start with.

But before he started, he had to finish his energy supply. Alistair sipped up the last of it before tossing the empty pouch in the trash. His CGM was happy now – 75 and trending upward – so he didn’t have to worry about the beeping. It was a small victory, but he was happy to take it in the moment.

“I’ll talk to you later, Kaidan.” He walked away, heading for the elevator. A few seconds later, he touched down on the vehicle bay. Like always, it was busy. He spied Wrex in the corner, sticking out like a sore thumb in his bright red armor, and mentally checked him off his list.

He looked un-fucked-with, so that was enough for him.

Next should have been engineering, considering Tali was high on his concern list. However, his eyes were drawn to the Mako and the turian standing by it. Garrus was running a program, talons tapping against his omni-tool as he worked.

His feet took him over. “How’s it looking, Garrus?”

“Oh, Shepard.” He nodded. “Better than I thought. Looks like you’ll just have to replace a tire and do some minor electrical work.”

His mandibles twitched. “I was expecting a lost worse after Therum.”

Alistair’s cheeks turned pink in response. He had expected that – after all, he had been the one who was driving. Well, according to the crew “driving” was describing it rather generously. Even he had to admit that when he got behind the wheel, chaos soon followed.

Frankly, he thought he did a pretty good job considering he didn’t have a driver’s license.

“Yeah… he’s built to last alright.”

Another mandible twitch. “They must have built it with you in mind. Those was some… creative ways to get around obstacles, Shepard.”

What, it wasn’t like he had driven into the lava or anything. He had just gotten… kinda stuck… at one point. Once he’d thrown it into reverse and gotten some traction, they got over the hill just fine. The geth fire had bounced off the armor without even causing a dent.

So, no big deal. Just another mission on a hostile planet.

“I was told I think out of the box in basic.” He gave a sheepish grin. “As long as nobody dies, I think it works out.”

Much to his surprise, Garrus chuckled. “That should be the Alliance rule – it all works as long as nobody dies.”

Alistair snickered too. “As I was told once, it’s not a war crime if you do it for the first time.”

It was a bad joke that had been passed around during his N7 training, especially considering he was telling it to a turian. After all, their races had started fighting each other the moment they had met across the relay. Things were better now, but it was still a new relationship.

Then again, they had only made it to the relays when he was a kid. So, they were all new relationships if he was being completely honest.

“Now that’s a saying I can believe comes from an Alliance marine.” Garrus’ turned back to his data. “Anyway, is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

He nodded. “Just checking to make sure you’re settling in ok. I know it can be a little weird to be around so many humans. Nobody’s bothering you, are they?”

The turian shook his head. “Nothing other than a few strange looks and some whispers, but it’s not like anyone’s hiding my stuff or messing with the food. Why, were you worried about me?”

Well… yeah.

Alistair glanced to the side, feeling the heat from his cheeks. “Just checking is all. If the crew were starting anything, it’s my job to put a stop to it.”

It was his job… and he had already made a bad first impression with the turian on the Presidium after knocking him onto his ass. He didn’t want to make matters worse between them, given they had to work together for a while.

Also… well, he wasn’t bad to look at either. But that was beside the point. The main idea was checking on his alien crew members.

“Thanks for the concern, Shepard. I don’t think you need to worry about that, though.” Garrus had a note to his voice that suggested he wanted to get back to work. “I should probably get to fixing those electrical parts before you take the Mako up a mountain or something next mission.”

It would’ve been bad, but his mandibles were twitching. Alistair was beginning to realize that happened when he wasn’t being serious. He had to hold back a sigh of relief as he nodded and left the turian alone to finish his work.

At least he wasn’t annoying him too much.

“Right, now to check on Tali.”

She was in engineering, which was on the same floor. It wasn’t a long walk, but as he made his way over a voice drew his attention. Someone was talking with Tali, and it wasn’t anyone assigned to the engineering deck.

As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure they had unofficially banned her altogether; apparently, Bo was cursed.

“Anyway, how’d you get that hit two planets back? I thought shotguns couldn’t do something like that.”

“I modified it. If you want, I can take a look at yours later when I’m done here.”

Tali was at the console like always, typing away. Across from her was Bo, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest so she didn’t touch anything. That was probably why they had left her down there without fearing for the safety of the Normandy.

That, and it was really difficult to tell her what to do. He was used to it.

“Eh, it might mess with the stuff Al-“ Bo picked up her head. “Speaking of; coming to make sure nobody’s bullying Tali, Al?”

Alistair shook his head as he joined the pair. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but yes. Is anyone bothering you, Tali?”

The quarian shook her head as she continued to type. “No, everyone has been welcoming to me. It might be because I spend all my time down here, but I haven’t had any problems.”

That… and the crew knew better than to mess with someone Bo had an interest in. A dead man could’ve seen it with his eyes closed based on how she was standing and what she sounded like. There was a quieter, softer sense to it, and it carried into her eyes when she spoke to Tali or even mentioned her.

Of course, he might have been able to notice it because he was around her all the time, but… he was going to just say it was obvious.

“Well, that’s good to know. You can let me or Bo know if that changes.” He nodded. “Well, I need to go check on Liara. Talk to you later.”

Much to Alistair’s surprise, a second pair of footsteps followed him to the elevator. Bo got in behind him as he punched the number to go back up to where Liara was set up in the lab. In theory, he could’ve gone to her first, but… well…

He was sure she would’ve been fine.

“Checking on Liara, huh?” Bo leaned against the wall. “Do I have to chaperone you so she doesn’t jump your bones?”

Alistair groaned in response, leaning his forehead against the wall. “So it wasn’t just me thinking that?”

“She wants on your clit bad.” His sister snorted. “Which is hilarious, by the way. The whole crew is whispering about you secretly hate fucking Vakarian, you think she’d get the hint that you’re not into her.”

He wasn’t sure what made him blush worse – the thought that Liara wanted him in that way, or the implication that the crew thought he was sleeping with Garrus. Both were pretty bad, but it was hard to tell which one was worse.

Maybe it was the one involving the asari?

“I’m not hate fucking him, Bo.”

She shrugged. “I know. You’re too Catholic to hate fuck somebody. But you do want on his dick, don’t even try to deny it.”

Instead of denying it, Alistair shook his head. “Like you want on Tali?”

“Oh, shut up, I’m nowhere near as bad as you are, choir boy.” She shoved him in the side – it almost launched him. “Do we have to run the fraternization prompt again?”

Well, no – technically, Garrus and Tali weren’t members of the Alliance. He was pretty sure they didn’t count under the rules of fraternization. Then again, they did listen to him… so it was kind of a moral quandary.

He would think about it later when the paperwork got to him.

“I’ll sign you up for the first module, then.”

The elevator doors opened, and Alistair stepped out. Bo followed behind him, apparently making good on her suggestion to chaperone him with Liara. It was silly, but he appreciated the offer as he made his way to the lab.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Liara, but it was nice to have his sister at his side. And, if need be, he could direct her attention towards the giant pink lesbian standing next to him so he could slip away and get back to the endless paperwork.

Talk about a perfect plan; he should’ve thought of this in the first place.

[scarlettlillies]

Hetalia - Yesterday (Nyo!DenEst)

A very belated submission for APH Estonia Week. Prompts used were Yesterday and Beach.

This fic was only supposed to be a brief 500-word ficlet. It turned into a 1.4K fic of Nyo!Denmark being a hopeless romantic. I've missed writing them so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I had fun writing it. <3

If you prefer to read this on Ao3, please click the link here.

Summary: It was the final day of their brief holiday in Hiiumaa. Even though Estonia assures her that they will be back again soon, it's not enough. Denmark was tired of going home alone.

----

The smell of coffee and waffles lured Denmark from the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Estonia’s index finger tapped against the granite countertop as she patiently waited for the final set of waffles to finish. One plate had already been completed and it had been left on the island counter behind her. Next to the plate was a cutting board with fresh strawberries, straight from her garden, that had already been sliced up in half. To the left side of the cutting board, there was a bottle of syrup, a cinnamon shaker, an open container of blueberries, and a stick of butter. The sound of a documentary on barn swallows could be faintly heard on the television in the living room.

Denmark used the moment to sneak up behind her and wrap her arms around Estonia’s waist. A loud yelp quickly turned into nervous laughter as Denmark pulled their bodies close and she nuzzled her face into Estonia’s neck. In comparison to Denmark, Estonia was already dressed for the day. She looked so cute dressed in a solid-coloured royal blue dress with a cropped black cardigan. Not a single strand of hair on her short bob haircut was out of place. She could faintly smell the lilac body spray off of Estonia’s skin. It was the same kind Denmark gave her as a birthday present a few months earlier.

“Don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry,” she replied as she slipped in a quick kiss on Estonia’s cheek. Denmark could feel her lover’s tensions wash away as Estonia’s head fell back and onto Denmark’s left shoulder. Though the two women were close in height, Estonia was just a tad taller than her by only an inch or two.

“Did you sleep well?” Estonia asked.

“Always do. But why didn’t ya wake me earlier? I could have helped with breakfast.”

“I wanted to surprise you. Besides, I don’t think you would have appreciated me waking you up at six.”

Denmark groaned, “C’mon! We’re on vacation. There’s no need to get up that early.”

“Sorry but you know I’m an early bird! Six is the best time to be up.”

A loud buzzing noise interrupted the conversation. The waffles were finally finished.

Denmark was a tad disappointed to have Estonia break away from their quick embrace. But a surprise peck on her lips caught her off-guard. It was so unusual for Estonia to be this affectionate that it left her cheeks red and her head on cloud nine.

“I shouldn’t be much longer. Why don’t you get dressed? You must be cold with just a t-shirt and underwear on.”

She wasn’t wrong. Denmark was a little chilly. After all, she had just rolled out of bed the moment she caught the smell of Estonia’s cooking. Collecting herself, Denmark did as she was told, but not without stealing a blueberry from the open container while Estonia’s back was turned. Her eye caught the clock on the way out of the kitchen and noted that it was just after eight-thirty.

Denmark took no more than five minutes to get herself ready, wearing a simple red zip-up hoodie and matching red athletic shorts. She brushed up her pixie cut but skipped the makeup. She returned to the kitchen to see breakfast and coffee had been all laid out. Estonia was already seated across from her, enjoying a quick sip of her coffee. The smell of the cinnamon and the syrup made Denmark’s mouth water. She couldn’t wait to dig in.

Sunlight greeted the two women through white sheer curtains—a fitting end to their vacation. They mulled over their time in Hiiumaa. Estonia owned a vacation home on the island and they had been eagerly preparing their return here since the previous summer. Rain unfortunately put a damper on the majority of the vacation. But they made do with what they had. They hardly get to spend time together alone as a couple so a simple date night with dinner and a movie was all they needed to reconnect.

But yesterday had been perfect. Throughout the conversation, Denmark caught herself daydreaming about their time on the beach. She loved how perfect the warm sand felt between her feet. They rented out a small boat that fit just the two of them and rowed along a small portion of the coastline, with Estonia serving as her personal tour guide. Later in the evening, they swapped their swimwear for casual summer dresses to have a date night at a nearby restaurant. The staff knew Estonia well and were given the best seats they could offer—far enough that the two could have a private night to themselves, but close enough that they could still enjoy the local bands perform on stage. They stayed until the doors closed at midnight and they walked home hand-in-hand under skies where the sun never truly sets.

If only every day could be like yesterday.

“I know we have to head back to Tallinn today but is there enough time for one more walk on the beach?”

“I don’t see why not,” Estonia replied as she finished off the last few sips of her coffee. “We don’t have to board the ship until noon so we have plenty of time. It won’t be as warm as it was yesterday though.”

“That’s okay. I have you to keep me warm!”

Denmark was grinning from ear to ear and all Estonia could do was roll her eyes.

“Aw c’mon. I thought that was a good line.”

It really wasn’t. But she would never admit that she liked Denmark’s cheesy lines. The novelty would wear off quickly if she were allowed to slip them into every conversation.

Denmark hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she noticed Estonia still had half a waffle left and some fruit scattered around the plate. Their conversation had gone cold but neither seemed to mind. Estonia loved the peace and quiet. Denmark, meanwhile, was fixated on the scenery outside. Through the curtains, she could see the waves crashing against the shore in the distance. She shut her eyes and let her mind take her back to the beach once again. The two of them were alone and walking across the soft sand, wearing the same outfits as they were now. Before she knew it, Estonia slipped from her grasp, removed her white sandals, and made a run towards the sea. She ran far enough for the water to rise above her ankles. She lifted her dress just above her knees and began gliding her left foot across the water. Denmark watched with wonder as excitement built in her chest. Her movements were like a hypnotic dance meant for her eyes only.

Bright blue eyes met Estonia’s aqua-coloured ones. Her smile was enough to make Denmark melt in the sand.

Don’t just stand there! Come join me! The water’s perfect.

The sound of her laughter was music to Denmark’s ears. She dashed towards the sea where Estonia’s hand was reaching out to her, waiting patiently for her touch. At the moment where their hands met, Denmark’s eyes flew open at the sound of her name being called out to her.

“Taani—” She felt Estonia’s arms wrap around her shoulders. For a brief moment, Denmark felt slightly disoriented. She hadn’t expected that daydream to leave such a strong impact on both her mind and her heart.

“You don’t want to go home, do you?”

Coming down from the high, Denmark grabbed a hold of Estonia’s right hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The action alone was all Estonia needed as an answer.

“This place is perfect. I wish I could stay here forever—with you.”

“We’ll be here again soon. Before we know it, it will be the end of July and we’ll be back here on vacation again, just like we planned.”

It wasn’t enough. She didn’t want to fly back to her home in the Copenhagen suburbs. She didn’t want to go to work where the paperwork piled high and meetings with leaders took up most of her day. She didn’t want the city life where the mornings and evenings felt empty.

No.

That way of life wasn’t for her. Denmark’s dream life was ripped from the pages of the novels she and Latvia gushed over. She wanted the country life with the big garden, the calm boat rides under the warm sun, the long drives to nowhere with the wind in her hair, and the early mornings and late nights where time stood still just for them.

She was tired of going home alone.

It was an unrealistic dream. But she wished it could be yesterday every day.

[madiwadikinz]

SKINCARE MASTERLIST

HITS

drugstore

la roche posay

micellar water

neutrogena face wipes (should NOT be your only cleanser)

cetaphil

cerave

ELF (BUT ONLY the lip balms/scrubs/masks)

aveeno (iffy, but she’s cute)

byoma is OKAY, but packaging gives childish/overcompensating

a gua sha is key

affordable

inkey

the ordinary

french pharmacy

RHODE by hailey bieber

saltair lip balm

TULA (really only things i have used myself were the lil stick balms for ur face,,, they were GREAT)

SNAIL MUCIN!!!! (don’t knock it b4 u try it!!!)

OMG KOSAS!!!!! YES

DRMTLGY

peach & lily

luxury

drunken elephant

elemis

fenty beauty

r.e.m. beauty (most of the makeup is genuinely garbage cuz miss grande is on meth & dating spongebob BUT her skin card does NOT decline REGARDLESS 💜)

LANIEGE LIP PRODUCTS ARE GOD

summer fridays lip balm 🤪

ILIA IS INCREDIBLE

RED LIGHT THERAPY MASK!!!! when i say this, i mean the mask that covers all of ur face bc red light therapy is ineffective unless it is on your face for a prolonged period of time

MISSES

drugstore

ANY MICROBEAD OR WALNUT SCRUBS/FACE WASHES DO NOT BE DOING THAT

neutrogena face cleanser (YUCK)

honestly anything neutrogena besides the damn makeup wipes

OLAY more like oNAUR

No7!!! (number 7) too expensive to be in the drug store & too inneffective for pricepoint

PACIFICA OMG NOOOO

PIXI!!!! this brand surfaced when i was in MIDDLE SCHOOL & i was obsessed… notice how i said middle school bc it actually sucks donkey ASS

affordable

medicube: gimmicky; anyone u’ve ever seen speak positive words is getting paid by tiktok shop creator fund 🤪

pretty much any television commercial advertised acne brand… they will fuk ur shit up frrrrrrr

PROACTIV cuz NAURRR

OMG YALL IM SO SERIOUS DO NOTTTTT BUY MARIO BADESCU

truly beauty 🫣😣

tower 28 👎👎👎

luxury

la mer: WAYYYY TOO EXPENSIVE

glow recipe: gimmicky; for children

glamglow: fell off GOD KNOWS how long ago but history repeats itself

farmacy (specifically the halo cream that the tiktok shop creator tab is paying people to promote on a commission basis)

murad (was relevant too long ago & rightfully fell off)

OGEE: ‘skincare makeup’ fluke ahhh brand; if u like feeling like a tube of grease that is also solid is ur makeup be my guest (NOTE: some ogee products aren’t terrible but overall not worth pricepoint considering their makeup SUCKS)

kylie skin: ur telling me a billionaire made a walnut scrub… i’m sick

call me controversial,,, but the SUNDAY RILEY alien ceo oil or whatever u wanna call it smelled so fucking bad that i could hardly apply it

CLINIQUEEEEE nope

estee lauder 🫣🫣🫣

controversial, but MEDICUBE DEVICE IS A NO

[enbysiriusblack]

physical description but for alice! (unless done already)

fairly short and chubby, with underlying muscle. pale, freckled skin with a cool undertone. large hazel eyes, with long but scarce lashes and an under-eye crease. concave shaped nose with wide nostrils, a golden piercing hanging through her septum. pink-ish lips with a straight upper lip. square face with a double chin. ears slightly sticking out, covered in an array of golden piercings. prominent, bushy, dark brown eyebrows. short dark brown, straight hair; never grown longer than to her shoulders, and usually in a pixie haircut with a short, thin fringe. freckles scattered across her body. fairly long nails, usually painted in light, spring colours. in uniform; she wears her shirt with the top two buttons underdone and her tie shoved in her bag; jumper usually on, with the arms cut off into a vest and embroidered with flowers, golden snitches, and little lions; black skirt just above her knees with various coloured tights, and muddy, red converse shoes. she tends to wear bright colours, clothes altered to fit her visions or interests, worn out through repeated use over years. square, leather backpack slung over her shoulders, filled with school books, frank's sweet wrappers, and copies of essays to sell to her classmates.

[carenocare]

Kissing in the Psych Ward

I think this story is a fun one to share, a strong addition to my one post. Being that adolescence and puberty are some of the most turbulent but horniest moments in your life, the idea of experiencing them in a psych ward is interesting, to say the least. Try to imagine your first kiss, second, even third, on a bathroom floor in your bedroom thoroughly cleansed of safety hazards. Now imagine your sexuality blooming in the back gym room with the girl you've been passing notes with during group therapy. I never realized it in those, well, tantalizing moments, but these memories would stain my image of my sexuality for a very long time. 

I grew up in an essentially fundamentalist christian household. No Harry Potter, no Spongebob, no boys in the bedroom with the door shut unless you're married. So when I came out to my parents at the ripe old age of 13 I expected, some pushback. I never really got any, my parents came to be worried about more important things than spongebob and premarital hand holding, but I never shook the feeling that I had to hide something.

Girls and boys are always separate in psych. Even if it's a mixed unit, as some might be, you are often virtually separate. You can't sit together, talking is touchy, if you seem to buddy-buddy it's up to staff discretion to separate you, and 9 times out of 10 they will. Sexuality is forbidden. A lot of units are completely gender-separated, meaning two completely seperate units for girls and boys. So you learn to deal with your female companions, and if you’re a budding bisexual like I was, you do more than just tolerate them. 

My first kiss was in my private Christian school bathroom stall, as we both bit an end of pocky (a Japanese treat, a chocolate-covered, thin breadstick, look it up!)  till our lips touched. How risque! My first introduction to love, was my 6th grade girlfriend of three weeks. Months later, I would spend 11 months in psych wards, only separated by a 1 month gap. So naturally, as i started to feel all those fuzzy vomit butterflies times 100 I had my second kiss with a girl. I dont remember her name, her face, really what she looked like. But I remember the feelings, the moment, the scenery, my heart beating so hard I wondered if someone could hear (I hoped to god not). 

The gym of UAB adolescent psych was incredible. It was a floor or two down from our unit, huge, the size of a high school basketball court with ceilings so goddamn high and windows made with some funny marbling and were very thick so you couldn't see through or break them. Added onto the gym was a smaller room, with low ceilings. It was filled with elliptical bikes and TVs to watch while you exercise. There were plenty of blind spots, and of course noise, so naturally the most opportune place to make out with your psych ward honey.

I wish I remembered her, perhaps short, brown hair, midsized, sweet but also incredibly funny. UAB adolescent psych was short term (i.e. 3-5 days). I was there for 3 months. I think I met her early on in my stay which would explain the memory loss; 17 kids in and out every 3-5 days for months makes it hard to keep track of what's what. I know I got called a dyke there, with my brown pixie cut and boyish style. I know I didn't know what that meant, but knew the snickers meant it was mean in context.

The moment of our kiss did stick out considerably. The noise of kids using their free play time outside the bike room doors in the large part of the gym. The fear of getting caught and being separated indefinitely. The ward staff only feet away, but out of sight. Her lips. Touching mine. Her face, in my hands. I hadn't gotten to kiss like that yet. This was revelation. This was ecstasy! This was… over too quick when a basketball rolled too close to the doorway and we parted like the Red Sea. 

I'm sure I kissed some other girls. Of course who hasn't? But the most memorable by far, a girl from my 6 month stint in the state ward. Of course, I can't use her real name but trust I know it. And this was a sticky romance, too. You see, I was the resident psych ward player. I had girl after girl. EAMC (state ward) was no different. 

I had been caught up with A when E came along. I liked A, sure, but she could be… well, concerning, what with her constant threats to kill or harm herself. E was soft, gentle, calm, reassuring, and god, was she beautiful. Tall, thin, blonde with an inch past shoulder length waves from her long left-in braid. Pale, blue eyes, that voice, like the melody of a children's lullaby.

E was older, probably by 3 or 4 years. But age was strange in psych. A lot of patients were, well not to be insensitive, but we always said they had sniffed too many Sharpies. Traumatic brain injury, severe trauma and mental health conditions, severe drug use, as well as developmental disorders and delays can cause the so-called “Sharpie effect” (please, dear God, forgive me for the “Sharpie effect” usage). E was at that point. It was said to be drug use, but I will never assume, nor do I care. That never mattered. She did. 

When A and I were together, I do promise I stayed faithful, but ward relationships are strange. They are very unsure. You can promise till the cows come home that you will call, text, email, and follow every social media under the moon, but nothing is sure once they discharge, especially if you're left behind. 

Once A discharged, I was left behind, and E was there. E became my roommate shortly after and we soon developed a significantly flirtatious relationship. The kiss story starts one regular day. A pretty gnarly fight broke out on the bedroom hall (a very regular occurrence for the state ward). E and I being roommates- and they were roommates -decided to sit on the small bathroom floor with our knees hugged to our chests. The bathroom was located right in the doorway, so we had positioned ourselves so we could see this fight with a good view, but without being caught snooping. Don't tell me you don't stop to watch those fight tik toks. It's just human nature to be drawn to calamity.

We soon realized we wouldn’t be seen by any staff for a while, and took our opportunity to talk, and talk, and inch closer, and touch fingertips, and hold hands. Oh, and we were kissing! Softly, surely, sweetly, E kissed me! And I kissed her! It was some good kissing for a 13-year-old girl, I'll tell you. My stomach! Those itchy butterflies! Oh! the passion!

I saw E once more after she and I had both been discharged from EAMC. Actually, I saw BOTH A and E. In another psych ward, which I promptly got myself out of due to extreme abuse running rampant in the facility. I hope theyre both doing well, living full and happy lives. They deserve the world, and I hope they have come to see it.

Adolescent sexuality is a healthy and wonderful thing. They can't lock up your makeout sessions on psych ward bathroom tile. They can't lock up your scratchy butterfly flutters. They can't lock up your want for connection and well honestly sex. Adolescence is a wild, wild thing. You can never contain it, no matter how hard you try. Separate girls and boys, girls will kiss girls and vice versa. Separate the couples, they'll find another, they’ll pass notes through their friends. Teenagers are always going to be little conniving individuals. If you want trust and honesty it has to be mutual. I wouldnt know, I’m 21, and not a parent.

[jazzystudios82]

His Lovely Rose - Chapter 1: The Destroyer Awakens

Previous. . . . Next Chapter. . .

——————————————————————————

Location: Beerus' Planet. . . .

Brier walked around her lush garden, watering any of her plants that looked thirsty. Believing that she was done, Brier nearly left her garden to continue with her other tasks when she heard the sound of something whining. Curious, she turned around to see a tiny leafy green creature with black bug eyes, peeking its head behind a sparkly golden rose-like flower. “Oh? I don’t recall having something like you in my garden.” she said to the creature. “Where did you come from?” she asked. Instead of answering her verbally, it jumped up a little and began to hover in the air, allowing Brier to see that it had a pair of wings that greatly resembled that of a honey bee.

The leafy creature hovered near her silver watering can, causing Brier to realize what it wanted. It was thirsty. “I see.” Brier said as she placed the watering can on the ground. Then, Brier raised her snow-white fingertips over the opening of the watering can, creating a rose red aura that made the crystal clear water flow out of it, forming a ball of water in the air so the little creature could drink from it.

“There we go, little one,” she muttered to herself, watching the plant happily gulp down the crisp water. After a few seconds passed, the creature was able to finish all of the water Brier gave it, smiling with glee. “Do you feel better now?” Brier asked. The creature nodded its head, causing Brier to smile. “I’m glad. Now, where did you come from, little one? Unless Whis invited you in, I doubt that you're supposed to be here.” Brier said. The creature began to hum to itself, and looked around its surroundings to find something.

“?"

Before Brier could ask what the leaf creature was looking for, it walked back to her flower garden and in a few seconds, brought back a little brown stick.

“What are you. .  .?”

The creature then used the stick to draw in the dirt, creating images to communicate with Brier. Despite the rather crude drawings, Brier did her best to figure out what it was trying to tell her. From what the goddess could see, there was a portal of sorts that led to a spacious room with a summoning circle, where a girl with a short pixie-cut was waiting.

“Oh! I understand now: You’re going to become someone’s familiar, aren’t you? And you got lost during your journey to the summoning circle and ended up here instead. Isn’t that right?” Brier asked the creature. It nodded its head vigorously, happy that it was successful in getting her to understand. 

“Alright then. Based on the background of the drawing you did, I know exactly where you’re supposed to be.” Brier told the little leafy being. 

She then created a ring of magic on the ground with her pointer finger, making a little portal to where the creature needed to go. It hugged her wrist happily, and jumped into the portal to go to its intended destination. “Goodbye! And do tell the others that I said hi!” Brier said before the portal closed. 

After releasing a sigh, the goddess looked around herself to see if anything else needed to be taken care of, when she noticed a certain someone standing at the entrance of her garden. A certain white haired angel, that is. 

“Whis? Did you need something?” Brier asked politely, getting up from the ground. “Thank you for asking my lady, but I’m fine.” Whis told her. “I’ve simply come to alert you that it is time for Lord Beerus to be awakened.” “Oh my. It’s that time already?” Brier questioned. Whis nodded and waited for her to follow him. Before Brier walked to the angel, she then placed her fingers to her rose colored lips and began to whistle. “Kero, I need you!” she shouted. 

Suddenly, a big cream colored wolf ran to Brier’s side. The wolf quickly transformed into a handsome youthful man with slicked back hair that was the same cream color, sun kissed skin, and a dark suit with a ruby brooch at the base of his neck. The brooch itself was in the shape of a rose. Overall, he looked like the ideal image of a perfect butler. His ochre colored eyes looked at Brier, and he asked with a deep, cool, and gravelly voice, “What is your order, my lady?” 

“Kero, I need you to prepare Beerus’ breakfast for today. How soon can you get started?” Brier questioned. “Very well. I’ll get straight to it.” Kero replied with a small smile. He then walked out of the garden to get started on his task.

“Now then, shall we get going?” Whis asked Brier. “Yes, we should.” Brier responded. The angel smiled and led Brier to her husband’s sleeping quarters, which had them walk up a long flight of stairs. ‘It’s been a while since the last time he was awake.’ Brier thought to herself. She had unknowingly stopped in her tracks, which Whis noticed. 

“Lady Brier, are you alright?” he asked. 

“Huh? Yes, I’m fine.” Brier said. “Why do you ask?” “Well, you seem to have something on your mind.” Whis answered. “It’s nothing serious, Whis. I was just thinking about how long it’s been. That’s all.” Brier told him. “I do hope that you’re not lying to me.” Whis replied, leading her up the staircase once again. “I’m not! I promise!” Brier said, sounding rather exasperated. Why in Zeno’s name would he think that? “If you say so. Anyway, we’re here.” Whis said. 

“By the way, Whis, did you happen to see what happened earlier?” Brier asked. “You mean your interaction with the pixie sprite? Yes, I did.” Whis answered. 

“Hahaha. . .I see.” Brier mumbled. 

“There’s nothing to be worried about, my lady. It’s rather adorable to see you treat lesser creatures in such a manner.” 

“Whis. . .” 

"You know that I'm only kidding, right milady?"

"Right." Brier said as she watched Whis open the door to Beerus’ bedroom, showing large snake statues, floating orbs with bronze colored hour glasses inside, and a levitating circular golden bed that had the God of Destruction in it. The purple skinned cat god was wearing a pale blue night shirt, and was half covered by the blue-green blanket he had.

Suddenly, one of the glass orbs blew up, covering the cat god in light brown sand. However, it didn’t seem to awaken him. 

“Lord Beerus, it's time. Time to wake up.” Whis announced. Beerus’ left ear twitched, but he didn’t get up out of bed. “Please don’t fall back asleep, Beerus. You know we have important things to do today.” Brier said, her voice loud and clear. “She’s right, my lord. Also, remember that it was you yourself who set the alarm bombs this time. I’d hate to see you oversleep with those back up alarms.” Whis added. Just then, two more alarms went off, covering Beerus in even more sand.

“Fine. I’m up.” That was all he said. “The two of us just don’t want you to get all groggy like the last time you woke up.” Whis sighed. 

“But if you require some more coddling, I’ll be more than happy to show off my vocal range with a singing performance.” The angel had used his staff to summon a microphone so Beerus could hear him loud and clear, which brought an amused smile to Brier’s face.

“~La la-Wait wait, sorry! I-”

“ENOUGH!!” Beerus shouted. He begrudgingly got up, and muttered something about how his bed was cozy, and attempted to get out of bed. Instead of getting up in a normal way, Beerus fell onto a nearby platform, then another, until he started to walk normally by the time he reached the others. 

Having witnessed the entire thing, Brier did her best to not laugh at his mannerisms. But she failed and let out a little laugh anyway, the sound as soft as wind chimes. Beerus then looked at Brier and had a smile on his face. “Morning dear.” he greeted. “Good Morning Beerus.” Brier replied. 

Beerus then walked towards her and attempted to lean in for a kiss, but Brier gently placed her hand on his chest, stopping him. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I’m sorry, love. Normally I would give you a kiss, but I’m afraid that you have a bad case of morning breath.” Brier told him, covering her nose with her right hand. “That bad, huh?” was all he said.

“Extremely.” 

Beerus placed his hand in front of his mouth and let out a bit of his breath to smell. To say that it was foul was to put it mildly. “Ugh! I wouldn’t want to kiss someone with bad breath like this either.” Beerus muttered, causing Brier to let out a small laugh once more. “I’m going to brush my teeth. Gimme a minute.” Beerus said. He then walked to his personal bathroom to do what he said. 

“Honestly my lady, how in Zeno’s name are you still attracted to him after something like that?” Whis said in a joking manner. “Oh come now Whis! I’ve gotten used to those things, so they don’t bother me like they used to.” Brier answered with a smile. “I suppose.” Whis replied.

Brier and Whis stood where they were for more than a minute, causing the two to wonder what was taking Beerus so long. “What is he doing in there?” Brier wondered aloud. “More than brushing his teeth, that’s for sure.” Whis muttered.

Before Brier or Whis could go to check on him, the destroyer came back, wearing his G.O.D. uniform, and he looked squeaky clean as well. “Now can I get a kiss?” Beerus asked, his tail twitching ever so slightly. Brier playfully rolled her eyes at him and walked to her husband, standing up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on his lips. “There. Happy?” she asked him with a smile. “Very.” Beerus replied. 

After they were done, Beerus looked at Whis and asked, “What planets are we visiting today, Whis?” “Let’s see. . . the first planet we need to visit is the one with those boar-like people.” Whis said, looking into the orb on his staff. “And how long will it take for us to get there, Whis?” Beerus asked. “Hmm. . .it should take about ten minutes since it’s not that far away.” Whis answered. 

Beerus nodded and said, “Wake me when we arrive. I’m still a little tired.” Brier and Whis let out a sigh, but they both said, “Fine.” 

“But before we leave, I think that we should go to the dining room.” Brier told Beerus. “Kero is making you breakfast at the moment.” Beerus’ ears perked up upon hearing that. “Kero is making breakfast?” he asked, trying not to sound too excited. “That’s what I said, is it not?” Brier replied. “What is he making this time?” 

“None of us are sure, Lord Beerus.” Whis said. “But since he knows what your taste in food is like, it’s highly likely that Kero is making you one of your favorite meals.” Beerus’ tail began to wag a little, causing Brier and Whis to giggle. “What?” he asked. “Nothing.” They both said. Beerus knew that they weren’t being honest, but he didn’t care. Kero was downstairs making something that he knew would smell and taste scrumptious!

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have a little something to eat before our trip.”

. 

.

.

.

Location: Unnamed Planet. . . .

Ten minutes had passed, and the trio had arrived at the planet. And just as they promised Beerus, Brier and Whis both gently shook the destroyer awake. “Darling, we’ve arrived.” Brier whispered into his ear. Beerus stirred awake from his nap to see that the planet’s people were nervous upon their arrival, and they all treated them like royalty in an attempt to not anger them (especially Beerus). They even had a velvety red carpet for them to walk on!

‘They must be truly desperate if they’ve gone to such lengths. . .’ Brier thought to herself as she, Beerus, and Whis were led to the inside of the big castle that they were going to be having lunch. “P-Please take your seats while the chefs finish prepping your meals!” the leader told them as they sat down. "Alright." was all Beerus said. 

"I promise you that the food will be out in only a minute!" the boar king told them. 

Then one minute turned into two. Then three. "E-Excuse me for a moment." the king said, quickly walking away from the table and to the front of the kitchen. Brier then heard him harshly whisper, "What are you idiots doing?! Hurry up and bring it out quickly!" 

And just like that, Brier watched as several boar-men scrambled to assemble a meal before her and her husband. After a while, they finished placing the food in front of the two. "L-Lord Beerus, L-Lady Brier, please help yourselves to this royal feast." the king said nervously. "Each dish that you see before you is a tres bien masterpiece that was prepared by the most talented chefs on our planet!" "Really? These meals?" Beerus questioned, not impressed by the foods' appearance. "We'll see about that." 

"Anyway, please do tell the chefs that we thank them for the meal." Brier said to the king before she grabbed her knife and fork. Brier then cut herself little pieces of the steak in front of her. She then watched as her husband began to eat his supper. Well, more like playing with it, anyway. He even sniffed it like an animal would. 

“Please remember your manners, Lord Beerus.” Whis sighed.

Ignoring the angel, Beerus paid attention to a small glass filled with a light purple gelatinous substance that was topped with different colored berries. “And what’s this?” he asked, pointing at it. 

Brier didn’t hear what the chef said it was, since she was focused on her own food. She drank from her glass that was filled with a thick dark red liquid, and she had eaten little bits of the cooked piece of meat and salad in front of her.

‘The meat is a little salty, but it’s not bad. And the drink is decent enough.’ Brier thought to herself, then looked back at her beverage. ‘I wonder what creature they slaughtered to make this.’ Brier looked to see Beerus consuming the jelly-like substance, taking a minute to taste it before he swallowed. She then looked at the boar men, and noticed that they were watching for his reaction, extremely fearful. ‘Those poor souls. . .’ Brier thought as she looked back at her husband. 

Beerus took a minute to think over what he wanted to say. He opened his eyes and said, “It’s tastier than I expected. The use of salt is. . .divine.” 

Brier noticed the slight pause in Beerus’ sentence, knowing that there was a catch of sorts. The leader, however, released a sigh of relief. “Thank you, my lord! So you won’t-” “However, there’s a greasy mouthfeel. Odd for something that I presume is. . .dessert?” Beerus added. 

Brier finally stopped eating her meal. She placed her fork and knife down and stood from her chair to go to her husband’s side. She knew where this was going. 

“Tell you what, I’ll only take half.” Beerus said. 

“Half, my lord?” the leader said, confused. Then, Beerus used his clawed finger to tap onto the table, which sent out purple energy to one half of the planet. Said half proceeded to be obliterated by it. 

Out in space was Beerus, Whis, and Brier watching the bits and pieces of the debris drift away. “A bit harsh for food you called “tasty”, wouldn't you say, my lord?” Whis muttered. “Well, all that grease is unhealthy, it’d make me sluggish all day. Besides, I did this galaxy a favor.” Beerus said. “Anyway, what’s next Whis?” 

The angel used his staff to see the list of other planets that Beerus thought about getting rid of. “Hmm. . .it appears that we need to go to the one with the bug-like people next.” Whis said. “Alright, let’s go then.” Beerus said, and after taking hold of Brier’s hand, had his attendant transport them to their next destination. 

It took approximately 15 minutes for them to arrive, and when they did, a murky green slug man wearing a dull blue cape, the leader of the slug people, was quick to greet them with, “Greetings Lord Beerus. It’s. . .an honor to have you here!” 

“I suppose it is.” Beerus replied. “Anyway, please follow me.” the slug man said. Beerus, Whis, and Brier followed the slug to his palace. In the dining room there was a big spread that consisted of cooked fish, a salad, and dessert.

“Please. . .Lord Beerus, eat and you and your lovely wife will be satisfied. These meals were prepared by the best chefs on the planet.” the slug-like being told Beerus.  

“Let’s see now. . .” Beerus muttered, taking a glass filled with a pinkish-purple liquid substance in his right hand. “I must say, this looks a lot like that dessert from the last planet we visited.” Brier said, also looking at Beerus' glass. “Oh my, what a coincidence! And how did their meal taste, milady?” the leader asked nervously. 

“Since half of their planet is still around, I suppose my husband thought it was more than adequate.” Brier told him, causing him to sweat. “O-Oh. . .I-I see. How good for them.” “Yes, indeed.” Beerus said as he ate some of the jello-like substance from his glass. Everyone waited for Beerus’ reaction. After a minute or two, Beerus finally spoke. “This stuff is good! This ‘dressing’ or whatever you call it is delicious! This is the kind of flavor I like!” he declared with a smile. 

“Really. . .?! I’m so glad to hear that you like it. . .!” the slug man said. 

“However, I can’t believe that I have to ask you this; But did you really try to kill me with cheap poison?” Beerus questioned with a smug look, startling the slug man. 

“?!” This greatly shocked the leader and his followers.

Meanwhile, Whis and Brier were simply surprised and disappointed that they were all stupid enough to do something like this. “P-Poison?! What do you mean? Maybe it’s not to your liking? If so, why not try the vegetarian vincotto soup?” the leader suggested. 

“Vegeta. . .ble. . .vincotto soup?” Beerus said, testing the name of the soup. “Yes! Our soup is renowned and exceptional-" "Brier darling, can you check my meal for me?" Beerus interrupted, looking at his wife. "Of course." Brier said. 

The blue-gray haired goddess stood up from her seat and walked to her husband's seat. Brier then took the glass from her husband's clawed hand and ate some of the food. "It's very faint, but I definitely taste something poisonous in it." Brier revealed. "!" The leader was shocked by this, and was bold enough to ask, "I-If it was p-poisoned. . .then why did you. . .?" "We'll be fine. A weak poison like this isn't strong enough to kill a god." Brier answered in a cold tone. "Besides, I'm fortunate enough to have an immunity to most poisons regardless."

"Well, do I have some bad news for you. I’ve decided to destroy this planet.” Beerus announced. Upon hearing this, the leader became enraged. He was quick to shout, “DAMMIT! IF YOU THINK THAT WE’LL GO DOWN LIKE THIS, THEN-” Beerus ignored him and created an orb of energy that he sent into the ground of the building they were in. “Whis, take us away.” Beerus ordered. “Right away, my lord.” Whis answered

The angel transported the three of them off the planet, just in time to see the planet explode in millions of pieces. “In the end, you destroyed the planet you wanted.” Whis muttered. “Yup! I couldn’t let people like that live forever.” Beerus said. 

Brier remained silent, watching the debris of the destroyed planet get closer. “Brier, is something the matter? Don’t tell me that you feel bad for them.” Beerus asked, having noticed her deadpan expression. “I could care less about those barbarians. Especially when they’ve attempted to do something as stupid as poison you.” she answered bluntly. “She has a point, sir.” Whis added. “Those fools sealed their fates as soon as they poured that poison into your food.” 

Suddenly, Brier heard a familiar voice in her head, preventing her from hearing what Whis and Beerus were talking about at the moment. ‘Hello? My lady, can you hear me?’ Kero asked. ‘Yes, I can. Kero, is something the matter?’ Brier asked, using telepathy to communicate with her familiar. ‘Everything is fine. But it appears that your father wishes to speak with you. He’s on the other line with me right now, and he mentioned something about wishing to speak with you about something important. He said it’s urgent.’ Kero explained

‘It’s urgent? What happened? Is he sick?’  

‘He didn’t say. All he said was that he wished to speak with you right away.’ Kero told Brier. The goddess let out a sigh and said through their bond, ‘Alright. . .tell him that I’m on my way. I just need to speak with Whis and Beerus before I go.’ Brier told him. ‘Understood. I’ll see you at the palace’s entrance, milady.’ Kero said, ending the telepathic call. 

Brier looked at her husband and Whis and announced, “Whis, Beerus, I have something to tell the both of you.” The two men stopped their conversation and paid attention to Brier. “My father wishes to speak with me back home, so I’m afraid that I can’t go with you two to visit the other planets.” “Oh my. Is everything ok?” Whis asked. “I’m not sure. All Kero said was that apparently it was an urgent matter.” Brier answered. “If it’s important then go ahead. We won’t make you go with us if you have something else to do.” Beerus told her. Brier gave a slight nod of her head and said, “Thank you.” 

Brier then created a bright red orb made of magical energy in the palm of her right hand, and used it to make a circular portal that led back to her and Beerus’ planet. Before she went through it, Brier went to Beerus and gave him a kiss on the forehead, briefly leaving a magical marking of sorts that disappeared quickly. “There. A power up in case you need it.” Brier said with a small smile.

Beerus had a deep blush on his feline face, and he looked away from his wife, muttering, “T-Thank you, darling.” Whis had an amused smile at the sight in front of him. ‘Those two. . .it’s nice to see them being so affectionate with one another.’ Whis thought.  ‘Especially since Lady Brier missed Lord Beerus during his great slumber. . .’  

Brier let out a little laugh and said, “I’ll see you two boys when you're both done. Alright?” The two nodded and bid her farewell. Brier entered through the portal and was back in her home, specifically in the entrance hall. There, Kero was waiting for her. He smiled upon seeing Brier returned. “It’s nice to see you, milady. Shall we get going?” he asked.

“Yes, let's.”

——————————————————————————

Brier Profile:

Voice Claim: Carmilla Carmine from Hazbin Hotel (Daphne Rubin-Vega)

Age: The same as Whis (Over 200 Million +)

Gender: Female

Species: Titan

Powers & Abilities: Immortality; Aptitude for magic; Flight; Teleportation; Materialization; Inhuman strength; Increased hearing, vision, and smell; Accelerated healing; Telepathy; Energy sensing

Kero Profile:

Voice Claim: Knuckles the Echidna from Sonic the Hedgehog 2 (Idris Elba)

Age: The same as Whis (Over 200 Million +)

Gender: Male

Species: Wolf Daemon

Powers & Abilities: Shapeshifting; Retractable Claws (Humanoid Form); Venomous Saliva (Daemon Form); Skilled Chef; Skilled Marksmanship

[wardrobewonders]

Recreating the Styles of Hollywood Legends

Introduction

Welcome to the glamorous world of Hollywood fashion! The history of Hollywood fashion dates back to the golden era of cinema when stars had a significant impact on fashion trends. Recreating the styles of Hollywood legends is a way to pay homage to the icons who have left an everlasting impression on fashion. Why limit yourself to contemporary fashion when you can add a touch of classic Hollywood to your wardrobe? Whether it’s with Audrey Hepburn’s little black dress or Marilyn Monroe’s white halter dress, there’s no denying the iconic status of Hollywood fashion. Recreating these styles can be a fun and creative project. With some careful consideration of fabric, accessories, hair, and makeup, anyone can achieve a timeless look. You don't have to break the bank to recreate these styles - sometimes, all it takes is a well-tailored dress or bold, red lipstick. So, get ready to step into the shoes of some of Hollywood’s most iconic stars and recreate their timeless style.

Audrey Hepburn

Audrey Hepburn's Style Audrey Hepburn is an icon when it comes to timeless style. Her elegant and effortlessly chic look has been emulated by generations of women worldwide. Her signature pixie cut, winged eyeliner, and bold eyebrows are still relevant today. If you're looking to recreate her look, start with the iconic little black dress from Breakfast at Tiffany's. The dress is simple, yet stunning, with a classic silhouette that flatters any body type. Pair the dress with simple black pumps and a string of pearls, and you're ready to go. Don't forget to add Audrey's signature sunglasses for an extra touch of glamour. For makeup, keep it simple. Use a liquid eyeliner to achieve the perfect cat-eye, and apply bold red lipstick. Stick to neutral shades when it comes to eyeshadow and blush. Audrey was known for her minimalist approach to accessories, so avoid overdoing it. Remember, less is more!

Grace Kelly

Grace Kelly was a true fashion icon. Her style was timeless and sophisticated, and she always looked effortlessly elegant. Her style was all about classic silhouettes and simple, clean lines. To recreate her iconic look from Rear Window, start with a fitted dress that cinches at the waist. A-line skirts and pencil skirts work well for this look. Avoid overly fussy or trendy pieces. When it comes to hair and makeup, keep things simple and elegant. Soft waves and subtle makeup will help you achieve Grace Kelly's signature look. Opt for a natural lip color and lightly defined eyes. You can complete the look with a simple clutch and understated jewelry. By following these tips, you can recreate the classic style of one of Hollywood's most iconic fashion icons. Grace Kelly's understated elegance is timeless, and it's a look that will never go out of style.

Marilyn Monroe

Marilyn Monroe, an icon of glamour and beauty, had a style that was both sexy and sophisticated. She was known for her hourglass figure and flowing, feminine dresses. One of her most famous looks was the white halter dress from The Seven Year Itch. Recreating this look starts with finding a similar halter-style dress, with a fitted waist and full skirt. Accessorize with simple jewelry, like diamond studs and a tennis bracelet. For the perfect finishing touch, add a pair of strappy heels in a neutral color. Choosing the right undergarments is key for this look - consider a strapless bra and shaping shorts to create a smooth silhouette. Remember, confidence is the key to channeling Marilyn's style! As she once said, "Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring." So embrace your inner bombshell and rock that white dress with confidence!

Elizabeth Taylor

Elizabeth Taylor's style was known for its sophistication and elegance. She often wore dramatic, form-fitting gowns that emphasized her curves and made a lasting impression on anyone who saw her. One of Elizabeth Taylor's most iconic outfits is the red chiffon dress from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Recreating this look requires a flowing, red chiffon fabric that is form-fitting and cinches at the waist. Hair and makeup are also essential. Taylor's hairstyle was usually a sleek updo that showed off her stunning, dramatic features. For makeup, dark eyeliner and bold lipstick were common choices. To channel Elizabeth Taylor's glamorous style, it's essential to focus on every detail. Opt for statement jewelry that amps up the glam factor or choose a clutch or bag that is just as statement-making as the outfit. A pair of high heels that elongate the legs also helps to complete this iconic look. With the right combination of clothing, accessories, and makeup, you can achieve a look that is both timeless and elegant.

Marlene Dietrich

Marlene Dietrich was a fashion icon known for her androgynous style. Her menswear-inspired look from the film Morocco is still popular today. To recreate her style, choose tailored pieces such as a blazer and pants, but add feminine touches like bold lips or high heels. Don't be afraid to experiment with traditional menswear pieces like a tie or suspenders. For the full effect, style your hair in a slicked-back style and add a fedora hat. Marlene was a trailblazer who paved the way for women to dress in masculine clothing while still looking chic and sophisticated. Just remember to add your own personal touch to this classic look.

Conclusion

So there you have it, fashion inspiration from some of Hollywood's most iconic leading ladies. Recreating their styles not only pays homage to their timeless fashion but also allows us to express our own personal style. It's important to find inspiration in those who have come before us and use their sense of fashion to create our own classic looks. Remember, fashion is ever-evolving, but classic style is timeless. By adding a touch of vintage glamour to your wardrobe, you can create a look that is uniquely yours. Take risks, experiment with styles, and most importantly, have fun. At the end of the day, fashion is all about self-expression and confidence. So embrace your inner Hollywood icon, and create a look that is truly memorable.

[paradisiacalambiguity]

[internalsealpanic]

Three Times You forgot Your Glasses Plus the One Time Kon Remembered

Summary: Various things I’ve put my glasses through but with more Kon Kent involved. a/n: In celebration of me getting my eyes checked after a year, here is a fic about glasses. Thanks to @glorified-red for the ideas and @littleredwing89 for proofreading and the banner Warnings: Abuse of glasses

1: Monster Madness

You watch the blood splatter with mild disinterest, mind more concerned with the weird zig-zagging of the camera and the plethora of cheap-looking animatronics. You really should go to a theme park for Halloween.  Or you could just get the animatronics. You did promise Bart to give him a heart attack after that incident during April Fools but... it's a Friday night and both you and the week are winding down so here you are flat on your stomach squinting at your laptop with your cheeky boyfriend.

"Heads up!" The man on screen says tossing a severed head.

"Someone has finally beaten you for the worst catchphrase of the year," Kon says.

You run a cold toe over his leg. "Suck this was not that bad." You grouse, earning you a snort from Kon.

"Leave the catchphrases to the professionals."

"Right," you say, looking back at the screen."Somehow our apartment is more cluttered than the horror mansion."

"Dunno what you mean," Kon mumbles, squishing his face to his arm.

You squint, "Did you miss the sock in the dishwasher or did I hallucinate that?"

"Vivid hallucination."

You squint at him even louder and Kon just hums at you.

"Ok," he sighs, angling his body towards you. "I may or may not have been less than sober."

You hum, "I think you were high on pixie sticks."

"Hey, sugar high is a real problem, gorgeous."

"Sure, it is." You giggle running a hand through his curly hair and brushing your thumb against his cheek. He's so warm and cute and the smile on his face makes your insides all fuzzy.

"Just keep watching the movie, doll," Kon says, kissing your wrist.

The movie prattles on getting more and more ridiculous as it goes on. You and Kon weren't really expecting quality but this was a different ball game.

"This looks like a lingerie commercial," you snicker.

"Is this not why you suggested this movie?"

"It most certainly is not," you huff as a child explodes on screen. A wire-y feeling takes over your body. You feel so light and airy. Your head is drifting away.

"You're going to fall asleep with your glasses on," Kon says, poking your cheek.

You nudge your foot to his as you knock your head lightly against his shoulder. Your lids feel heavy. A yawn rolls off your lips as if the concept of tiredness and sleep did not exist until Kon had spoken it into existence.

You blink slowly mind focusing on light smudges on the lenses. You're not particularly forgetful, not really. You're just tangled with your neurons all firing in 7 different directions, 14 if you're on the cusp of sleep, and none of them ever seem to register that your eyesight isn't actually worth a damn. You tilt your head, squishing your face into Kon's hand. "Just remind me then."

"What if I forget?" Kon asks, tangling his leg with yours. His hand threads through your hair and the warm pressure of it makes your eyelids feel even heavier.

You blow out a breath. "The world will explode." You boop Kon's nose for effect.

Kon grins, delicately wrapping his hand around yours and kissing your fingers. "Guess I better not forget, huh gorgeous?"

"Mhmm."

Kon's not entirely sure when he'd fallen asleep or who'd fallen asleep first. He opens his eyes to see your face illuminated but the changing colors of the screen, a scene he can barely make out reflected on your glasses which are now smudged and crooked on your face. You are incurably adorable.

"Babe," Kon whispers softly, rubbing your back.

You moan and squeeze your eyes tighter.

Kon looks at the clock and winces. "Babe, it’s 1 AM." He kisses the crown of your head and shakes your shoulder.

"Then why are you awake?" You ask, still not opening your eyes.

Your face is squooshed into your arm while your hand is intertwined with his. Kon curses himself for not charging his phone. Maybe he can use yours but that meant getting up and letting go of your hand.

"Your glasses are still on."

"How else am I supposed to see my dreams?"

"Pfff, you’re a nerd you know that, right?" Kon kisses your nose.

Your nose scrunches. "Hnnnnnn, sounds like your type. Now go back to sleep."

Kon lets out a soundless laugh. "Lemme just..." He takes off your glasses, very careful not to jostle you too much. He folds your glasses neatly on your laptop and uses his tactile kinesis to move both.

He pulls you into his chest as he closes his eyes.

2: Kiss in the Rain

"I'm just gonna get a quick shower before we go!"

"Quick means I can sneak in a two-hour nap," Kon says, plopping on the couch.

You click your teeth and stick your tongue out at him from the door.

He burrows into the blanket you'd left there the night before. "Wake me when you’re ready." He says smugly but annoyingly endearing.

"Or I could just leave you and grab brunch with the others."

"You would never."

"Pretty confident aren't you?" You narrow your eyes at him.

"Yeah," he says smiling into the soft fabric, "cus it's my turn to pay."

You purse your lips and try your best to death glare at him.

He hums waiting for your undoubtedly witty response . "I won’t be long," You huff, throwing your shorts in his face.

Kon waves the shorts like a flag.  "I'll be waiting, Babe!"

You loudly stop into the room, your footsteps sounding wet against the hardwood floor.

Kon yawns and stretches, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "What’s wrong, doll?" He has to slap his hand on his mouth when he sees you.

You pad around the room with your obviously drenched glasses, feeling for your glasses cleaner.

"You forgot again, huh?" He snickers helpfully.

You turn to him sharply. "No, I decided to see if my conditioner would work on them."  You say elongating your syllables to convey your frustration.

"You always did say you wanted to kiss in the rain without getting wet." He laughs, sitting up and ruffling his bed head.

"Very helpful." You hiss, picking through odd bits of life on your coffee table. You really need to clean your apartment. You run a hand through your wet hair. "Have you seen my eyeglass cleaner?"

Kon rests against the couch. "You mean the one in the sink?"

You shoot up. "Fuck."

"We could."

"Oh fuck you," you throw a chip at him. "Do you know where my spare is?"

"Nnnn, in my jacket."

You pause to look at him. "Which one?"

"The leather one."

"Which one?"

Kon thinks it over. "The one with studs."

"Ah." You shuffle through the closet and find your spare covered cheese and what looks to be mold. You gag and toss it into the trash.

You sigh dramatically as you walk back into the living room, your glasses still very smudgy and very wet. Standing in front of Kon, you pout crossing your arms. There wasn’t much either of you could really do about it but you weren’t really sure how to work off your now sour mood.

Kon smiles up at you indulgently. "C'mere," he says, putting his hand on the back of your neck.

You let him pull you in as if gravity had taken hold of your body instead of Kon. Then again, was there really any difference?

Your lips meld together in a warm embrace. They push and pull at each other seeking out every curve and ridge til their shapes are imprinted on each other's skin. You gently push Kon back, not breaking the kiss, and settle yourself on his lap. He traces a hand up your spine, lips curving into a smile as every nerve in your body awakens to his touch.

You eventually break for air but not before nibbling on his bottom lip. "That's not how people kiss in the rain." You say breathlessly.

Kon tilts his head to the side, obviously equally breathless even as he cuts you a sharp grin. "How would you do it?"

"Like this." You brush your thumb against his cheek before swooping in for another kiss.

3: Steamy Kon pulls back his shades over his head like a headband as he tells you about Tim smacking into a building in an effort to avoid an alien. He tells the story with an enthusiastic swoop of his hand and a voice that rises just above the jumbled sounds of the diner.

You slouch into your moldy seat, wondering if a supervillain was somehow close by or if supervillains avoided the Midwest like the plague. Maybe you should move to the Midwest or not... They may have more diners without chocolate chip pancakes. They really should consider serving that market, you think, only half-listening to Kon's story.

"You know that anyone can hear you, right?" You say, tilting the fluffy mess of pancake batter and blueberries the size of pebbles. The underside drips a thick midnight blue and the only evidence of the pancake batter is the sweet smell of butter intertwined with the rich tangy scent of blueberries.

"Unlike you city folk, we mind our own business," Kon waves you off with a mouthful of pancakes. For once, he sounds particularly Kansan as if the whole clone thing had just been some fever dream you had after watching too many 50s sci fi movies. Or maybe Kansas has a Twilight zone effect on him that strips all the city out of him. He’d even exchanged his leather jacket for a plaid button-up.

"The English language does not have nearly enough words to fully express how much of dork you are." You say inanely picking at your pancakes.

Kon narrows his eyes at you, blue bleeding out from his pretty lips. You cover your own to hide a smile. "You're just saying that." He rolls his eyes at you.

"Trust me I don't need Lex's lab to prove that you're a dork." You cut into your pancakes ignoring how the blue will likely stain your new Superboy hoodie. "I can see it even without my-" Your glasses fog up.

"You were saying, sweetcheeks."You can tell from the silhouette beyond the haze that Kon is being a smug little shit. He leans closer, blowing on your face. "Maybe they’re steaming up because I’m such hot stuff." You can't see but you're pretty sure that he has a grin you want to slap off.

You jab your fork at the air to shoo him away from your poor glasses. "Well, I  can least leave you and your ego alone while I eat in peace." You huff. The corners of your mouth are finding it extremely hard to stay down.

"As if! You'll be staring at me with those heart eyes the whooooole time," Kon says leaning forward. The tip of his finger presses against the wide lens of your glasses.

"Did you just forget how fog works?" You ask when Kon falls back into his seat.

"A little."

You let out an incredibly undignified snort as you take your glasses off.  You trace the smudgy path his fingers left before putting your glasses back on.

Kon's lovestruck expression is framed in smudgy in a smudgy heart.

Kon tries to hide his smile by rubbing his nose."Which one of us is the dork again?"

"I do it with style." You say taking a bite of your pancakes.

+1: Roller Coaster of a Ride

Apparently, the city has tried to get the ride banned. You lookup. There doesn't seem to be any integrity problems. You loop your pinky finger with Kon's as you read the sign for the roller coaster. Kon shifts his hand slowly interlacing his fingers with yours. Vaguely, you hear Cassie over the phone. You twitch your pinky finger.

"Oh yeah, (Y/n) says hi."

You smile a little too broadly when he got the gesture. You lean your head on his shoulder and try to ignore the urge to kiss the corner of his lip.

"It goes 150 miles per hour." You whistle.

"Babe, we both know I can go faster."

Side-eyeing him you ask: "Can you last longer?"

Kon chokes and you think you hear Cassie cackle on the other end. You quietly bask in your glory while Kon keeps arguing over the phone. From the odd bits and ends of the conversation you could hear, you could tell Tim and Bart (and possibly Cissie) have joined in on ganging up on  Kon. You may or may not be a little too helpful with their quest to make Kon's life hell.

Kon is huffy until you reach the end of the line. "Oh, babe." He points to his face. Your hands shoot up to your glasses and heat rises in your ears. Gingerly, you take them off, pause, then debate whether you should put them in your pocket (which was too loose) or hold on to them (brings up the question how good your grip is).

"I'll hold 'em," Kon says, holding out his hand.

You squint up at him, his face a vague suggestion of colors and shapes."What if you break them?"

Kon's silhouette makes a gesture like he's been struck.

You volley it with an aggressively tired look and cross your arms.

Kon doesn't withdraw his hand. "I'll take care of it like I take care of you." He kisses your brow. It's really not that you don't trust him. You really wouldn't let him drop you 200 feet in the air just to catch you but you're anxious when you can't see.

With a defeated sigh, you put your glasses in his hand. You look up at him wearily to which he responds to by pressing a reassuring hand to your back. You let out a breath and hold onto his belt loop as you enter the platform.

You both stare at the broken fragments in Kon's hands. You pick up a piece of glass that used to be part of your lenses and hold it up to your face. The corner of your mouth twitches. "Well, I certainly hope you don't do that to me." Your voice is flat, not quite sure how to ebb the oncoming wave off panic. You don't want this to ruin your date with Kon.

Kon watches your expression carefully, parsing through the little twitches and changes. You weren't angry or you didn't seem to be. Frustrated, yes. Amused, definitely. But it's something else muddling everything. Kon closes his eyes. He tries to take the quietest breath he can to steady himself.  "I thought you wanted me to?" He laughs but it sounds weak.

You pout at him, squinted eyes directed at his shoulder. Your hand swats at him and you're a good 6 inches off and almost hitting your hand against a metal post if he hadn't grabbed it with his own. He runs his thumb over the back of your hand. The only advantage to you being blind right now is that you can't see the absolutely gutted expression on his face.

"You're a dumbass," You huff, closing your hand around his.

He knows. He shifts his weight on his feet. "We can go-"

You tighten your hold on the back of his jacket and swallow the cold feeling rising from your gut. "You're gonna get me the cotton candy you promised, yeah?" Your voice is a little too high, too strained, too unnatural.

Kon softens at the obvious nervousness in your tone. He wraps an arm around you, his lips brushing your forehead. "Do I really need you to be sweeter than you already are?"

"You really are laying on the charm tonight, aren’t you stud?" You say, biting your lip.

"If it means I'm not sleeping on the couch." Kon presses his forehead against yours, lips almost brushing yours.

"You aren't simply for the fact that I need help getting to the bed."

"I can do more than that," Kon winks.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and steadying your still trembling legs, you brush your lips against his neck. "I'm not gonna give you the satisfaction of cumming when I can't see you begging for it." Kon looks around thankful that super hearing is something very rare. "I--" He swallows, heat is creeping up his skin.  "--Babe, if you're seriously not ok we can go home."

You bunch up the collar of his jacket, face folding into a frown.  "You were so excited to go to the theme park and we've been planning this trip for weeks..." You don't want something stupid like your glasses to ruin your day together. "C'mon Kon just a few more rides." You lean back a little farther so Kon is forced to hold you closer. "Pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaase Kon, my eyes aren't gonna be better at home. Just a few more."

Kon really has no idea how it hasn't hit you yet that he could never say no to you. "Ok. ok. Let's get some food first though."

Both Kon's breath and heart come to a full stop.

Your teeth catch against Kon's skin before pulling away.

Apparently, the theme park somehow had no cotton candy due to some kid weaponizing the cotton candy a few years ago. You had your suspicions.

You narrow your eyes a the menu. You ... can't read a thing. "Kon,"you sigh in defeat,"can you order for the both of us?"

"Hnnnnn I should get you the grossest thing on the menu."

"Well, you aren't on the menu so I think I'm pretty safe."

"Oh, I am so on the menu. I'm right over there." He points to something on the menu.

You shake your head. "Can't see."

"Can't call bullshit then."

"I revoke your cute status."

"C'mon doll, you'll always find me cute."

"Dunno, can't see."

He sighs. He hates it when you use his own argument against him.

"Can we get 1 root beer funnel cake and a strawberry one?" Kon says, raising two fingers. He looks at you then adds: "Could you add extra confectioners sugar to the strawberry one?"

You're slightly caught off guard by that detail. You never really fussed much about your orders and you don't think you've ever really mentioned your favorite flavors. You look up at Kon to thank him and ask him how but he kisses you on the nose before you can get a word out. You squish your face into Kon's back as you take a bite out of the funnel cake. Kon tilts his head back to rest on yours. "How's the cake? Please tell me I got it right."

"No, you definitely didn't." You giggle.

"Should I have gotten you the beefcake?"

You nudge your nose against his back. "Hmmmmm, yeah. It's my favorite flavor."

"The public will be notified." He laughs. The vibrations of his laughter make his back shake in a soothing wave. You wrap an arm around Kon's waist, smiling into his back.

“Listen (y/n), I’m--” You shove the last piece of your funnel cake into his face, smearing his cheek with sugar and strawberry syrup.

“You don’t need to apologize. You didn’t mean to.” You look up at him. “Besides, you’re gonna make it up to me.”

He perks up, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously. You shrug.“Win me a prize.”

So as it turns out, Kon is terrible at carnival games, shooting ones especially.  

Clutching the oversized teddy bear he bought you from the gift shop, you laugh at him the whole way back to the car.

“I can’t believe you spent a hundred and you still couldn’t get even the jiggly snakes.” You wheeze, resting against the car.

“Gorgeous, you and I both know those things are rigged!” He protests, hand on his hips standing in front of you. You keep laughing. He puts his arms on either side of you and *tries* to look menacing. You kiss him on the nose and the mean expression on his face fades faster than Tim’s hopes of a productive team meeting.

“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s rigged but that’s not why I’m laughing.”

“Is it because I’m miserable?”

“Hmmm, no.”

“Uhuh.”

“Ok, a little,” you say, pinching your fingers together, "I’m laughing because you didn’t stop trying and that’s the dumbest and cutest thing ever.”

“I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or insulting me.” Kon pouts, leaning in to kiss the crown of your head.

You shrug. “Either way, I’m doing it lovingly.”  

[slaterherms]

             ˗ˏˋ 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

                                              𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 ! ´ˎ˗

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑!

hello !! i really enjoyed making these and sharing a little slice of my muses with you all, and i’m happy people seemed to find them useful!! so while i’m at work doing nothing.... here is more AESTHETICS BASED OFF MY MUSES. 

cw: mentions of drugs and injuries 

LINCOLN ‘LINK’ CRAWFORD ashtray with finished cigarettes and empty bottles of alcohol on the windowsill, red LED lights, a collection of CDs, piles of books all over the place, printed out posters of horror movies, a laugh in the face of authority, dark greens and black filling your wardrobe, ripped jeans, thrifting for home decor and clothes, the smell of cigarettes stuck to clothes, an old camera slinging around your neck, lies that sound genuine, found family. 

FLORENCE JACOBS over-sized clothing, constantly saying sorry while repeating the same mistakes, chipped nail polish, showing up late to everything with a large coffee, empty bottles of alcohol all over the windowsill, ripped jeans, a collection of lighters, bags under your eyes, a worn out beanie, still using an ipod for music. 

ROMAN BIRCH dark academia, papers all over their space, a pencil behind their ear, bedhead, lingering smell of coffee, research books and journals, greek tragedies, a worn-down leather briefcase, rolled up sleeves, dark color schemes. 

ASHRAF AL HAFEZ the echo of an empty theatre, a sense of the dramatics in everything, an urge/starvation for the unconventional, thoughts scattered on pieces of paper, a half empty bottle of wine, a small yet cozy apartment, cat hairs all over your sweaters, roaming empty streets late at night, singing to yourself, musicals and theatre. 

JUDE JACOBS a bomb of colours in your wardrobe, worn down hands from drumsticks, loud noise, loud laughter, a smile so wide and contagious, unruly curls / hair, the lingering smell of marijuana, chipped nail polish, messy make-up, glitter on the eyes, the sound of a roaring crowd, 

RIO SMITH colourful bandanas, the lingering smell of fruity bodyspray, glazed lip gloss, eye gems / decor, bright colours, a compassionate love for animals, an urgency to help and assist others, mis-matched nails,  flowing skirts and dresses, festivals and bright lights, music playing 24/7, thrifted furniture, a mini garden, a softness in their eyes. 

NARI PAK black clothing, big combat boots, baggy pants, early 2000′s styled pixie cuts, the sound of a bass, blistered fingers from the bass, the lingering smell of cigarettes, a resting bitch face, sapphic goth, a face full of piercings, heavy eyeliner, posters hung haphazardly, big headphones on 24/7, silver jewelry. 

A FEW BONUS AESTHETICS I JUST LOVE light academia, ribboned hair, always smelling like lavender, a sarcastic tone, sleeves under big t-shirts, fishnets, brightly coloured hair, soft-spoken tones, worn-down sneakers, stacked jewelry, bright eye-shadow, stick-n-poke tattoos, bruises from stunts, leather jackets, driving too fast on an empty street, the peak of a high.