#she's totally playing up the offended card

[swan-of-sunrise]

...Is Love, Sweet Love (Part II)

Summary: Eight months later, (Y/N) and her daughter Molly have settled in well at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, with (Y/N) teaching a Classical Literature class and six-year-old Molly taking courses while learning more about her telepathic skills. Charles, having fallen head over heels for the school's new professor, debates whether or not to act upon his feelings.

Pairing: Charles Xavier X F!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Yes, I know, it's slightly unhinged to write a Part II to a one-shot that I published over 2 years ago, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head and here's what I came up with! Again, "What The World Needs Now Is Love" by Jackie DeShannon partially inspired this fic, so you should totally give it a listen if you haven't heard it before :)

…Is Love, Sweet Love May 1980 Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester (Previous Chapter)

Despite living in his family’s mansion for the majority of his life and spending countless hours of his childhood eagerly exploring its sprawling grounds, Charles Xavier hadn’t truly grown to appreciate the tranquility that the estate provided until he’d re-started Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. The sight of young mutants happily playing on the playground and partaking in group sports without feeling the need to hide their differences away brought a smile to Charles’ face, and the cheerful laughter of his students paired with the beautiful spring sunshine inspired him to once again enjoy his lunch outside with a good book…although, it was difficult to deny that he spent far more time listening in on Professor (Y/L/N)’s nearby Classical Literature class than actually reading his novel.

“Can anyone tell me why the characters of King Lear worship the pagan gods and not any form of Christianity?” (Y/N), who was sitting cross-legged on the grass in front of her small class, arched a brow as she surveyed the silent group of teenagers before her. “C’mon, guys, you know this. We went over the background of the play during our last lecture, and I seem to remember some of you even taking notes…” After a moment, a timid hand went up from the red-headed girl in the front and (Y/N) smiled. “Yes, Jean?”

“The play is set in ancient Britain, long before the arrival of Christianity.”

“Very good, Jean!” Jean Grey’s shoulders relaxed and beside her, her friend Jubilee gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Now, why would Shakespeare choose to set this play in this specific time period? Think about the time period in which Shakespeare lived, and what the social and political climate in England was like.” A dark-haired boy towards the back of their group raised his hand. “Go ahead, Remy.”

Remy LeBeau lowered his hand and began fiddling with his deck of playing cards as he spoke in his distinct French-Creole accent. “Well, Professor, that was when there was a lil’ trouble brewin’ ‘tween the Catholics and Protestants over there, right? He prob’ly didn’t wanna ruffle any feathers by puttin’ a popular religion in his plays, so he had his characters worship the gods from ol’ Roman mythology; anybody who’d be offended would’ve been long dead, so Willy did what any guy’d do to keep his head on his shoulders.”

Charles smiled to himself as the class laughed and (Y/N)’s lips curved upwards into a reluctant grin. “A little unorthodoxly put, Remy, but you’re absolutely correct. In the play, Lear states that-” She was cut off when the familiar sound of the school bell rang out and her students started to pack their things away. “Remember, on Monday we’ll begin performing your assigned scenes so be sure to work on memorizing your lines with your groups over the weekend. Have a good rest of your day!”

While they laughed and talked amongst themselves, the students headed back towards the mansion for their next class and with a fond smile on her face, (Y/N) looked away from them and finished packing her binders and books into her messenger bag. The novel in Charles’ hand was all but forgotten in favor of admiring his colleague and friend, who’s effortless beauty almost always succeeded in making him stutter over his words and caused him to blush in a way that he hadn’t since he was a schoolboy; she was dressed casually in a striped button-down blouse tucked into a faded pair of high-waisted jeans and well-worn Birkenstocks, with her (Y/H/C) hair pulled away from her face by a blue headband and her reading glasses dangling around her neck by a colorful beaded chain. Charles took in all of her striking figure, but it was her content smile and the happy gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes that made him release a lovelorn sigh and look down at his lap.

Charles was infatuated with Professor (Y/L/N). Well, it perhaps started out as a simple infatuation, back when she’d first arrived on his doorstep pleading for him to help her daughter; her kindness and caring nature in regards to Molly’s safety and well-being was touching, considering how many parents he’d met who were overly eager to pass their mutant children off to a complete stranger just to be rid of them. After hearing their story, he knew that she couldn’t bear to be separated from her five-year-old and so, he asked that she stay and teach at the school to ensure that they would remain together. That was eight months ago and since then, the infatuation had evolved into a full-blown romantic crush; Charles was captivated by (Y/N)’s capacity for compassion, enchanted by her quick wit and natural beauty, in awe of her progressive idealism in regards to mutant rights and more than appreciative of her boundless consideration in regards to his disability.

Yes, Charles was enamored by his school’s newest professor, but he was also plagued by insecurity. The last woman he was romantically involved with was Agent Moira MacTaggert of the CIA, all the way back in 1962 when he was a dashing young man who’d just earned his doctorate and possessed an egotistical streak wider than the English Channel; nowadays, his ego was tempered and his youthful good looks were beginning to give way to wrinkles and streaks of silver. While a ten-year age gap between two consenting adults was hardly an insurmountable obstacle to a happy relationship, a part of him couldn’t help but think that (Y/N) would be happier with someone younger than him. Both Alex and Hank thought that he was overthinking the situation, and perhaps they were right but whenever he started to consider asking her out, that little voice of doubt whispered on in the back of his mind.

“Hi Charles!”

Looking up, Charles’ face reflexively broke out into a grin when he saw (Y/N) approaching the bench he’d parked his wheelchair beside. “Hello, (Y/N)! Holding your classes outside today, I see?”

“It’s such a beautiful day, so you could hardly blame me for taking full advantage of it.” The professor adjusted the strap of her messenger bag and tilted her head as a teasing smile played across her cherry-red lips. “Enjoying your lunch outside today, I see?”

“Touché, Professor,” Charles chuckled, slipping his bookmark into his novel to mark his place and tucking it into his wheelchair’s saddle pack. “Hank seems to believe that my vitamin D levels are too low, so I decided that eating outside was the quickest way to get our resident worrywart off of my back. Not only did I soak up plenty of sun, I had the added pleasure of listening in on your fantastic lesson on Shakespeare’s King Lear; no offense to the Bard, but it’s refreshing to see an Classical Literature professor teach her students about one of his historical plays instead of one of his romances.”

(Y/N) shrugged nonchalantly, but the way she began to fiddle with her pendant revealed the bashfulness she was attempting to mask. “Well, I remember what it was like being fourteen; you’re around the same age as Romeo and Juliet, yes, but you don’t know a damn thing about love and it’s not easy to understand why they do the things they do.”

“As a former fourteen-year-old, I heartily concur. At that age, I could scarcely understand myself let alone an emotion as complex as love, no matter how beautifully Shakespeare described it,” Charles replied, looking out across the manicured grounds as he recited, “‘My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep-’”

“‘-The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite,’” (Y/N) finished and when their eyes met, Charles’ heart fluttered and he could feel his face beginning to warm; his brows rose in surprise when the professor hastily turned her head to try and hide her besotted smile, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the sight. “I, um, I-I should go and find Molly…”

“She’s at the playground with Alex’s second graders. Speaking of which, I need to speak with Alex about tomorrow’s scheduled book delivery…” Charles awkwardly cleared his throat before giving (Y/N) a tentative smile. “Would you allow me to escort you there?”

(Y/N)’s own smile widened at that. “Of course!”

While Charles wheeled himself along the stone pathway and (Y/N) kept in step with him, they eagerly discussed the school’s ongoing library expansion and all the new books they’d obtained for the students; any progress made at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters filled him with a sense of accomplishment, but expanding his ancestral home’s library was one of his greatest desires and he was thrilled that the children would soon have access to more knowledge than many of the country’s best private schools and universities. (Y/N) was just as excited about the expansion as he was, and he couldn’t help but admire the enthusiasm written across her beautiful features while he listened to her talk about all the lesson plans she’d brainstormed involving their new books.

They reached the playground sooner than Charles would’ve preferred, but his disappointment was set aside by the sight and sound of his school’s youngest students happily entertaining themselves on the elaborate structure; so many of them came from broken homes and were sent away without any second thoughts by families that couldn’t care less about them and while Charles couldn’t change their heartbreaking pasts, he did all in his power to give each and every one of his students a loving home and bright, promising futures. For the first time, I find myself truly understanding the blinding rage that fills Erik in regards to mutant rights, he thought with an inward grimace before glancing over at (Y/N) and smiling as the human woman affectionately watched her mutant daughter play, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve lost my faith in humanity’s innate goodness.

“Hi Mommy!” Molly exclaimed from the top of the structure, a toothy grin stretching across her face as she gave them both an enthusiastic wave. “Hi Professor ‘Zavier!”

“Hi Molly-Bear!” (Y/N) called back while a beaming Charles returned the little girl’s wave with one of his own. He’d always maintained that a good professor shouldn’t have favorites, but no one would blame him if he came out and admitted that Molly (Y/L/N) was – hands down – his favorite student; she was as exuberant and carefree as any human six year old, but her mutant abilities as a psychometric telepath meant that she was more insightful and tended to see the world around her with sage eyes. In truth, Molly reminded him so much of himself when he was a child and knowing first-hand how challenging having telepathic abilities at that age can be, he was grateful that he could help her by teaching her how to control and accept her gifts.

While Charles scanned the playground for Alex, he caught (Y/N) looking over at him and the tender expression on her face nearly took his breath away; she quickly looked away and pretended to adjust the fasteners of her messenger bag, but not before Charles noticed the glimmer of affection in her gorgeous (Y/E/C) eyes. A familiar whistle cut through his racing thoughts and when he glanced over, he spotted Alex leaning against a light pole that bordered the playground; a knowing smirk curved across the younger man’s face, widening as he brought a hand up to his temple and wiggled his fingers to signal for Charles to read his mind.

“I told you so.”

“Alex…”

“(Y/N)’s into you, Charles, and you’re clearly into her. So, what’re you gonna do about it?”

After taking a steadying breath and running an anxious hand through his hair, Charles cleared his suddenly dry throat and hesitantly spoke. “(Y/N)?” The professor looked over at him expectantly and his finger drifted upwards to loosen his shirt’s collar while he clumsily continued. “I, ah…well, I-I was wondering if I…(Y/N), would you and Molly care to join me for dinner sometime? There’s a wonderful Italian restaurant in Salem Center and a little movie theater just down the street from it that I think you’ll enjoy…”

(Y/N) blinked, looking dumbfounded but slightly hopeful as she took a moment to find her voice. “Charles, are you asking me out on a date?”

Charles nodded and offered her the barest of smiles. “Over the past few months, I’ve grown…immensely fond of you; I wake up every morning looking forward to our usual discussions over breakfast, I find myself spending far too much time styling my hair and picking out what to wear in the hopes that you’ll take note and every time you smile at me, my heart skips a beat.” The professor shyly smiled at that and he couldn’t help but lightly chuckle, the weight in his chest already feeling lighter with each confession he uttered. “Yes, just like that.”

“And you…you wouldn’t mind Molly coming along?”

The anxiety that filled (Y/N)’s eyes as she awaited his answer nearly shattered Charles’ heart; based on what little she’d disclosed to him about her past, he knew that she’s struggled with dating as a single mother and he could only imagine how disillusioned with romance she’d become as a result. “Of course not, (Y/N),” He softly replied and in a bold move, he reached forward and took her hand in his. “You two are a team, after all; Molly is your entire world, and I want you to know that I respect that more than anything. It’s also…well, let’s just say that it’s been quite a while since I’ve gone on a date, and I’d…”

“Like to go slow?” (Y/N) gently offered and when Charles wordlessly nodded, she gave him the smallest of smiles before looking over her shoulder and calling out, “Molly? Sweetheart, can you come here for a second, please?” After coming down the slide, Molly skipped over to them and the professor knelt down so that they were eye-level, her hand still holding onto his. “Professor Xavier wanted to know if he could take us out for dinner and a movie. Does that sound all right to you, Molly-Bear?”

The little girl’s head tilted to the side as her (Y/E/C) eyes studied Charles, and he was forced to mask his amused chuckle with a cough when she brought a mitten-clad hand up to her mother’s ear. “Like on a date?” Molly loudly whispered, and (Y/N) pursed her lips to keep from chuckling as she nodded; her daughter lowered her hand to reveal her excited smile and she gave her mother an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Sounds good to me!” Molly looked back at Charles with a conspiratorial giggle. “Mommy likes you, Professor ‘Zavier.”

Charles arched a playful brow as his eyes flicked between the embarrassed elder (Y/L/N) and the beaming younger (Y/L/N). “She does, does she?”

“Mm-hmm, she likes your eyes and your smile and your hair and your-”

“Okay, young lady, that’s enough out of you,” (Y/N) hastily interrupted, tickling her daughter’s neck with both hands and smiling when she shrieked with laughter and scurried back to the playground. Shaking her head in fond exasperation, she stood and glanced back at Charles, who was trying and failing to muffle his laughter. “Well, I guess that settles it. Does six o’clock this Friday work for you?”

He emphatically nodded. “Yes, of course, it’s perfect!” He felt himself begin to blush at his obvious enthusiasm, and it was (Y/N)’s turn to chuckle as he awkwardly cleared his throat and tried again. “…I-I mean, Friday at six o’clock works for me.”

“Good. I guess that Molly and I will see you then.” The professor turned to walk away but took Charles by surprise when she turned back around and bashfully smiled at him. “I’ve…I’ve grown immensely fond of you too, Charles.”

Before he could say or do anything, she’d bent down and pressed a feather-light kiss onto his cheek, an infatuated gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes as she flashed him one last smile and left to meet her daughter on the playground. A broad grin slowly spread across Charles’ face and while he watched her walk away, he leaned an elbow onto his wheelchair’s armrest and rested the side of his head against his palm, releasing a love-struck sigh and barely taking note of the familiar figure that moved to stand beside him.

“See what happens when you actually take my advice?”

Charles straightened his posture and glanced over at Alex, who was wearing the smuggest of smiles on his faces as he stared back at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an impertinent ass, Alex Summers?”

Alex’s smirk widened. “Heard it all my life. So, when’s the big date?”

“This Friday at six o’clock. And since you and Hank have taken such a keen interest in my love life, I’ll be requiring your assistance on Friday.” The younger man quickly sobered and with a grin of his own, Charles chuckled and patted his arm. “There’s a good chap. Now, about tomorrow’s book delivery…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although it was a far cry from the hazy evenings spent at Oxford’s many lively pubs and in the company of the college’s most flirtatious female students, Charles’ date with (Y/N) and Molly was undoubtedly the most enjoyable one he’d ever been on. He’d met the mother and daughter in the mansion’s foyer with two bouquets in his hands – daisies for Molly and vibrant pink roses for (Y/N) – and he happily watched them admire their flowers while simultaneously hiding the fact that he was studying (Y/N)’s figure; the professor was wearing a knee-length yellow dress with long billowing sleeves, a bright pink sash tied around her waist and matching high heels, and her carefully styled hair was pulled back by a pink headband. She was beautiful, far too beautiful to be going out with the likes of him, but his fears of inadequacy were quickly alleviated when she looked over at him and smiled.

Hank and Alex drove the three of them to Salem Center in Charles’ maroon 1959 Jaguar Mark IX, the pair of them opting to stay in town and catch a showing of the newly-released The Empire Strikes Back while they dined at La Mensa. Sensing Molly’s apprehension with being around so many non-mutant strangers, Charles distracted her by playing ‘tic-tac-toe’ and ‘hangman’ with her on her paper place-mat and (Y/N) threw him a grateful look as she asked her daughter about her schoolwork; while they enjoyed their food, (Y/N) entertained them with stories of her students’ antics and after some goading by Molly, she even balanced a spoon on the end of her nose much to her daughter and Charles’ delight. After dinner, they made their way down the street to the small movie theater and while many of its patrons were queued up to watch the latest Star Wars film, the three of them decided on watching the re-release of Disney’s Lady and the Tramp; Molly adored the classic cartoon and while Charles was impartial to the film, he thoroughly enjoyed exchanging enamored glances with (Y/N) over the little girl’s head.

Molly fell asleep on the drive home, cuddling against her mother’s side as she lovingly brushed her fingers through her daughter’s (Y/H/C) hair. In low whispers, (Y/N) assured Charles that Molly had a wonderful time and that she hadn’t seen the little girl so happy since before she’d come into her mutation; although aware that Hank and Alex were clearly eavesdropping from their front seats, Charles quietly asked her if she’d care for a quick nightcap in his study after putting Molly to bed, and he was thrilled when she readily accepted his invitation. When they arrived back at the mansion, (Y/N) carried the still-sleeping Molly inside, but not before giving Charles one last smile as he maneuvered into his outside wheelchair.

“So…” Hank arched a curious brow as he walked beside Charles’ wheelchair and steadied it when they reached the top of the ramp, where Alex was waiting with his motorized indoor wheelchair. “How was it?”

“Charming, but I could’ve done without the rather offensive Asian and Italian stereotypes-”

“Not the movie, Charles, the date,” Alex interrupted and when Charles chuckled in amusement at his friends, he leaned a shoulder against the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. “C’mon, you finally ask out the woman you’ve been head over heels for and you’re not gonna give your two best friends the four-one-one?”

Shaking his head in faux exasperation, Charles shifted himself into his motorized wheelchair and arranged his legs as he airily answered, “(Y/N), Molly and I ate a truly magnificent meal at La Mensa that we followed up by watching a classic Disney film at the movie theater. What more is there to say?”

Alex heaved a sigh but moved to allow Charles to wheel himself into the mansion. “A little help here, Hank?”

“Oh, he’s having far too much fun messing with us to stop.” The scientist tucked his hands into his jacket pockets while a mischievous smirk played on his lips. “But speaking as the school’s resident genius, I couldn’t help but notice the good professor clearly checking (Y/N) out before we left and blushing when she smiled at him just now.”

A reluctant blush warmed Charles’ cheeks at that. “Don’t you two perverts have morning classes to prepare for?”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, lover boy,” Alex smugly countered, nudging Hank’s arm with his elbow as they walked beside Charles’ wheelchair down the vacant hall to his study. “Well, Beast, there’s no doubt about it: Charles here’s got it bad for our lovely Professor (Y/L/N).”

When they reached his study’s door, Charles nudged it open and wheeled himself inside, but not before giving both men a look of genuine sincerity. “Thank you, for your assistance tonight and for your encouragement; the pair of you can occasionally be a pain in the ass, but tonight couldn’t have happened without you.”

Hank’s smile softened. “You’re welcome, Charles. We’re just happy that we succeeded in making you do something selfish for once.”

“Yeah, you’ve helped us both out so much over the years and it was high-time we returned the favor,” Alex added as he clapped Charles on the shoulder, his earnest expression morphing into a knowing smirk while he continued. “Enjoy your nightcap with (Y/N), and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, lover boy.”

“Oh, and don’t forget protection!”

“Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Chuckling, Alex and Hank left the study and closed the door behind them; after pausing for a moment to take a calming breath, Charles wheeled himself over to the oak cabinet near his cluttered desk and unlocked it, pulling out a glass decanter of scotch and two glasses and setting them down on the coffee table. He bit his lip as his eyes surveyed the messy state of his study, cursing himself for not tidying up earlier, but a part of him knew that (Y/N) wasn’t the type to mind a little clutter; she liked to joke that the best professors had the messiest studies because they spent all their time teaching instead of worrying about how others perceive them. It was the good manners instilled in him from birth that saw him gathering stacks of loose papers, binders and leather-bound books and unceremoniously shoving them behind his desk before lifting himself out of his wheelchair to sit on the couch; with nothing else to distract himself from the anxious anticipation building up within him, Charles plucked the maple-colored queen off the chessboard and nimbly twirled it around his fingers as he waited for (Y/N).

Minutes later, there was a quiet knock on the door of his study and after scrambling to straighten up his chessboard, Charles called out, “Come in!” The door opened and (Y/N) stepped into the room, her gentle smile widening when she spotted him seated on the couch. “How’s Molly?”

“Out like a light.” (Y/N) crossed the room and sat on the couch beside him, her fingers playing with the flowing yellow material of her dress’ skirt as Charles poured their drinks. “She wanted me to tell you that she had a really fun time tonight, and she wanted me to thank you.”

“She’s been working so hard these past few months to complete her schoolwork and training, so if anyone deserves to have a little fun it’s undoubtedly her,” Charles replied, a surge of fondness for his youngest student and her kindheartedness bringing a smile to her face as he turned to (Y/N) and offered her a glass of the amber-colored liquid. “As do you, Professor.”

Accepting the glass, (Y/N) hummed thoughtfully before holding it up and angling it towards him. “In that case…to having fun.”

“To having fun,” Charles repeated, lightly clinking his glass of scotch against hers and taking a sip, his eyes appreciatively roaming along the professor’s figure while she took a sip of the strong liquor. “Do you like it? It’s top shelf scotch whiskey, all the way from Scotland.”

(Y/N) arched a playful brow as she crossed her leg over her knee and angled herself to face him. “Expensive, imported liquor? Are you trying to impress me, Professor?”

“Well, that all depends…” Following his instincts, Charles set his glass down and rested his elbow on the couch’s back cushion, his lips curving into a playful grin. “Is it working?”

Her (Y/E/C) eyes softened and after setting her own glass down, she rested one of her hands on his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Charles, I was impressed by you before the top shelf scotch, before the fancy Italian restaurant, and before I ever laid eyes on this beautiful mansion.” His brow furrowed in confusion but she merely smiled and rubbed small circles along his knuckles with her thumb. “Eight months ago, the letter that I sent you asking for help with Molly was my Hail Mary; I had nowhere to go and no way to protect my daughter from the people who hated her for who she was, so I decided to write to the one person I knew could help her. And when you sent me a letter back – that incredibly kind and empathetic letter – you gave me hope, hope that I hadn’t felt in so long. So, you see? You managed to impress me before we’d even met, Charles Xavier.”

Charles, touched by her sincerity and feeling a little emotional, reached forward with his free hand and carefully cradled her warm cheek in his palm. “Oh, my darling (Y/N)…you’re not the only one who’s had their hope restored; I gave up any hope for romance not long after I lost my legs, choosing to focus my attention on the school and my fellow mutants. Over these past several months, however, you helped me to see that there was still hope.” His thumb traced along her cheekbone as he smiled and slowly began to lean in. “And now, I would very much like to kiss you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N)’s smile widened. “I’d like that very much as well, I just…” He could feel her cheek flush beneath his touch, and a look of embarrassment flashed across her face. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this. Would it be silly to say that I’ve got butterflies in my stomach?”

“Not at all, darling. Truth be told, I’m a little nervous myself,” Charles murmured, his eyes flicking away from hers to stare at her enticing lips before glancing back up. “The last time I kissed a woman was in 1962, so you’ll have to forgive me if my technique has gotten slightly rusty over the past eighteen years.”

“Well, we won’t know unless we give it a go, will we?” (Y/N) breathed and her (Y/E/C) eyes burned with desire as they both inched closer. “Charles, dear…please kiss me.”

Wanting nothing more than to please the professor, Charles’ eyes fluttered closed as he tentatively brushed his lips against hers. (Y/N) wasted no time in returning the kiss, kissing him softly and sweetly as her hand left his to rest on the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair and eliciting a blissful groan from him; with one hand still cupping her cheek, he rested the other on her waist but soon found himself winding his arm around her in an effort to bring her closer. (Y/N)’s lips were soft and oh so addictive, slowly but firmly caressing against his as her fingers carded through his locks, and Charles surrendered himself over to the woman wrapped in his embrace.

Eventually, they were forced to separate for some much-needed air, the both of them out of breath and almost dizzy from their impromptu make-out session; Charles felt a surge of pride as he took in (Y/N)’s kiss-swollen lips, heaving chest and the dazed smile on her face, and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to lightly rub his nose against hers. When he pulled back, he huffed out a breathless chuckle at the incredulous look that she was giving him. “That’s a rusty technique?”

“Mm-hmm. Dreadful, wasn’t it?”

(Y/N) giggled at his joking question and pretended to consider it. “You know, I think I need another example before I can definitively say.” They both laughed but when Charles moved in for another kiss, a sharp twinge in his lower back caused him to recoil with a hiss of pain. “Charles, are you okay?!”

He mutely nodded, his eyes squeezed shut as he straightened his posture and leaned his back against the plush couch cushions. “I’m fine, it’s just a muscle spasm.”

“Is it…?” (Y/N) trailed off and when Charles finally opened his eyes as the pain began to fade, he could see the worry written across her face. “Is it because of your spinal cord injury?”

“That, and I’m afraid that I’m getting on in years; I’m not as young and spritely as I was in 1962.” Instead of stammering out a string of apologies and getting up to leave as Charles feared she would, the corner of (Y/N)’s lips curved upwards into a lopsided grin that left him slightly confused. “(Y/N)?”

The professor shifted closer to him. “Did you know that Molly’s father was fourteen years older than me?” Charles’ brow rose in surprise and he silently shook his head, watching as she reached over and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. “You could say that I’ve always had a thing for older men…” Before he could think of something witty to say, (Y/N) swung her leg over his to straddle his lap and rested her hands on either side of his face; Charles couldn’t help but grin and, inspired by her delectable boldness, he placed his hands on her waist to hold her securely to him, his grin widening as her breath hitched. “Go ahead and read my mind if you don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

Shaking his head, Charles rested his head on the back of the couch so that he was staring up at her, softly smiling as one of his hands traveled upwards to cradle her cheek. “I believe you, darling. Would it be too sappy to say that I don’t want this night to end?”

“Not at all, dear,” (Y/N) shook her head before closing the distance between them and captured his lips in another passionate kiss; when they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his and returned his blissful smile with one of her own. “We can make this work, can’t we? Balance the two of us with running the school and raising Molly?”

“I believe that you and I can do just about anything, so long as we’re together,” Charles replied, his thumb and forefinger moving to guide her chin forward and pouring all his emotions into another kiss; there was no place on Earth he’d rather be than in the arms of the lovely Classical Literature professor who’d captured his heart and judging by the way she kissed him back, it was clear that she was thinking something along the same lines.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I had so much fun dipping my toes back into the Fox X-Men Universe (I still have a massive thing for 80's Charles Xavier and his flowing brown hair lol) and I loved that I finally resolved Charles and (Y/N)'s mutual attraction with this cute Part II! I may or may not have a few ideas for a possible Part III, so let me know if you'd be interested in reading more! Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying!

Story Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl @holb32 @f1uveryysblog Marvel Tag List: @brooke0297​​​​ @deadlymistletoe Permanent Tag List:​ @momc95​​​​ @crowleysqueenofhell​​​ @groovy-lady​ @yasmin12312

[leaderwon]

RECIPE OF LOVE : KSN | 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐝𝐚𝐲 — 𝟓)

Synopsis : A simple cooking class turns into a hilarious adventure when Sunoo’s playful antics and your clumsy mistakes lead to total chaos in the kitchen. Despite the mess, Sunoo’s sweet gestures make it a day you will never forget.

Warnings : Playful teasing, accidental messes, light physical touch

wc : 1.6k+

masterlist

The aroma of freshly baked bread hit your senses as you stepped into the cozy cooking studio, the soft hum of classical music playing in the background. Sunoo stood beside you, already bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

“Look at this place,” he said, gesturing dramatically to the rows of polished countertops and neatly organized ingredients. “We’re basically on one of those fancy cooking shows. Gordon Ramsay, who?” You laughed, adjusting the apron the instructor had handed you. “Let’s just hope we don’t burn the place down.” “Speak for yourself,” Sunoo shot back with a grin, tying his apron in a perfectly neat bow. “I’m a natural chef. Just watch.”

The instructor began explaining the recipe (a classic pasta dish with freshly made sauce) but neither of you paid much attention. Sunoo was too busy poking fun at your overly serious expression, and you were too busy rolling your eyes at his antics.

When it was finally time to start, things went off the rails almost immediately.

“Uh, Sunoo?” you called, holding up a measuring cup filled to the brim with flour. “How much of this are we supposed to use again?” He leaned over to look, squinting at the recipe card. “It says half a cup, but honestly, who measures things? Just eyeball it.” “Are you sure?” you asked, hesitating. “Trust me,” he said, flashing a confident smile. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

vYou decided to take his advice and dumped the entire cup into the mixing bowl. A cloud of flour puffed into the air, covering both of you in a fine white powder. “Oops,” Sunoo said, blinking through the flour that now coated his lashes. “You said to eyeball it!” you protested, trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean that much,” he shot back, laughing as he grabbed a towel to wipe his face. “At least now you look like a ghost. Very spooky.” You smacked his arm lightly, but the playful smile on your face gave you away.

As the class continued, the two of you made mistake after mistake. Sunoo cracked an egg too forcefully, spilling it all over the counter, and you accidentally turned the mixer on too high, sending ingredients flying in every direction.

“Okay, this is officially a disaster,” you said, trying to scrape bits of dough off your apron. “It’s not a disaster,” Sunoo replied, holding up a slightly lopsided pile of chopped vegetables. “It’s… character. Our dish has personality.”

Despite the chaos, neither of you could stop laughing. The other students in the class sent amused glances your way, and even the instructor shook her head with a smile as she passed by your station.

When it was finally time to plate the pasta, your creation looked nothing like the sample dish. The noodles were slightly overcooked, and the sauce was too thick, but Sunoo proudly held up the plate like it was a five-star masterpiece.

“Behold,” he announced, presenting it to you with a flourish. “A culinary triumph.” You snorted. “It looks like a kindergartener made it.”

“Hey, rude,” he said, pretending to be offended. “But you know what? At least we had fun. That’s what matters, right?” You nodded, smiling at him. “Yeah, you’re right. This was way more fun than I expected.”

As the class wrapped up, you found yourselves sitting at a small table by the window, sharing bites of your imperfect creation. The evening sun cast a warm glow across the room, and for a moment, everything felt calm.

Sunoo leaned back in his chair, watching you with a soft smile. “You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I’m really glad you came with me today. I can always count on you to make things fun.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, but you tried to play it cool. “Pretty sure you’re the one who turned this into a comedy show.” “Yeah, but you were the perfect co star,” he said, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. His gaze lingered for a moment, and the playful energy from earlier softened into something warmer.

Before you could think of a response, Sunoo suddenly sat up straight. “Wait. I almost forgot!” “Forgot what?” you asked, watching as he rummaged through his bag.

With a triumphant grin, he pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box and slid it across the table to you. “Here. For being my partner in crime today.” You blinked, surprised. “What is this?” “Open it and find out,” he said, leaning forward with anticipation.

Carefully, you unwrapped the box, revealing a delicate charm bracelet with tiny cooking themed charms, a rolling pin, a whisk, and a little heart-shaped cookie cutter.

“It’s so cute,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sunoo, you didn’t have to…” “I wanted to,” he interrupted, his smile soft but genuine. “I saw it last week and thought it’d be perfect for today. Now you’ll have something to remember our disastrous but iconic cooking adventure.”

You stared at the bracelet, your heart swelling at the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. “Thank you, Sunoo. Really. This means a lot.” He waved a hand dismissively, but the slight pink on his cheeks betrayed him. “It’s nothing. Just… wear it when you miss me, okay? That way, you’ll always have me around to tease you.”

You laughed, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist. “You’re unbelievable.” “And yet, you still hang out with me,” he teased, standing up and holding out a hand to you. “Come on. Let’s go get some real food to make up for our sad excuse for pasta.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. As you walked out of the studio together, the bracelet on your wrist jingled softly with every step, a sweet reminder of a day you knew you’d never forget.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[webslingingslasher]

i’m seated for some sneak peaks of things you have in the drafts hehe

here's a blurb for munch frat!peter:

'hand this card to the last person to eat pussy.'

tarrent has a gleam in his eye as he proudly pushes it into peter's chest. 'drink up, bro.'

you're not watching, the content of your cup is more interesting. but you're listening to see exactly how peter plays this one off because he hasn't even tried- let alone offered to go down on you.

peter hands the card back. 'nah, i don't do that.' he says it like it's a joke and his friends laugh with him, like he's too humble to accept the crown title of carpet muncher.

---

here's a blurb for hockey!peter fighting for his life over a jersey

'hey, can i have a kiss?' the audacity. you cross your arms again and look to the side, 'no.' peter frowns, you lean away when you feel his lips on your cheek.

'no? not even after i just won?'

'you didn't deserve it.' you grumble it from the side of your mouth, peter catches it and feels offended. 'don't get pouty and tell me i deserved to lose.'

you turn to him, your eyes screamed fire at him. 'don't humilate me and demand a kiss then.'

---

here's a blurb for cherry!peter who's doing the best he can to make cherry's sex dream come to life

'i've been so good, haven't i been so good for you?' peter can sense a little bit of a praise kink in you, it's fitting. 'you're always good for me. you're my good girl, aren't you?'

a whimper, it's so much better when it's real. 'i'm your good girl.' a harsh grind, you clutch peter's forearm while you throw your head back. 'yeah? that feels good?'

'call me your pretty baby.' peter doesn't know where the direction is coming from but he likes it. 'does my pretty baby feel good?' an audible moan, he's fucking perfect at this.

---

here's a blurb for bf!frat!peter with a girlfriend who should always come first

peter is totally saving you for last and you're about to go nuts on him. sure, there might be a line of people and sure, you might be the one in the least danger but you're owed some sort of urgency.

'hello?' you call it out, you sound impatient. 'spider-man?' you are impatient. you call for him again, he holds up a hand and you gasp. 'oh you little- spider-man, you better come help me right now or i swear to god i'll...' you have no real threat. 'just don't tempt me!'

peter doesn't come help you, he's still helping an older woman and you're about to throw yourself into a fire for some attention. 'excuse me? i'm looking for my boyfriend, have you seen him?'

---

here's a blurb from that blurb... you know... the one where peter has hooked up with trouble's friend?

if peter was a brat, he'd say that you're not supposed to be talking to him. instead, he extends his hand out and watches heavy footing beat up the staircase. the second his door slams, his best friend is asking what the fuck happened with his eyes.

'she's mad at me.' his door swings open, you shout down to him. 'i'm not mad! we're broken up!' another slam. ethan's expecting a lot more from peter than a shrug. 'no we're not.'

his door hits the wall, another scream, 'yes we are!' a third slam, this time, he's got two friends coming out of their rooms and glancing between his bedroom door and the lower level where peter had crossed arms.

'what's going-' peter flails his arms around, trying to stop the impending question and what he knows is all you need to give him a round two, but worse because now you're no longer in public.

a sheepish grin crosses over a brother's face when his door explodes open, peter thinks there might be a hole behind his door where the handle matches up perfectly.

---

here's a blurb where ethan walks in on sexy time :(

'liar! he saw me from behind!' you know he did, it was all on show. everything's ruined. peter's trying his best to be soothing. 'hey, even if he did, he won't say anything. it's ethan, you know ethan.'

you do. that's why it's so bad. the reminder makes you cry harder, peter connects the dots. 'oh jeez, trouble. here, come give me a hug.' it's a pathetic reach, you want nothing more than to be locked away in his hold, hidden and secret from the outside world.

'he-' you suck in air, curling in even closer to peter as if you weren't on his lap already. 'he saw me having sex.' you pull peter's arms tighter around you, it almost hurts it's so tight. it's what you need.

'i know, baby. i'm so sorry.' at least he's being honest.

'how much did he see?' peter doesn't know either, he was a little busy underneath you. he just knows the second he saw his door open, his instinct was to protect you.

'very little.' you feel kisses over your head, 'please stop crying.'

---

here's a blurb where nerdy!peter has no filter when he's drunk

'hi, honey.' you hold his arm tightly, 'don't lean over.' bending at the waist you reach for the keys, peter groans and shouts an exaggerated 'oh my god!'

you fly up, the metal tucked between your fingers. 'what?' you look around, peter's busy staring down your skirt while his teeth sink into his bottom lip. 'your ass is so nice.'

you suck in a deep breath and ignore the flush of warmth covering your chest. 'thank you, petey.' you ignore the slight shake in your hand when you shove the key in.

peter's door gets stuck a lot and you have to shove your shoulder into it a little. while you're doing your best to raid the door, a hand slides up the back of your thigh and gives you a tight squeeze. you jump and yelp, your hand reaching back to throw his off.

'peter!' he giggles and turns his head like you wouldn't be able to see him anymore. 'i just wanted to touch it a little.' peter's fingertips lightly drag up your thigh, you slap it away again. he giggles harder, the sound bubbles out of him.

'i'm trying to get us inside, leave my butt alone.' you have his promise, and you nudge the door a little, a sharp smack has you wipping around to face him. peter shoots his hands up, 'last one, i promise! that was the last one!'

[philialoving]

❝𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬!❞ 𝐟𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

a/n: so maybe I shouldn’t have bought the large boba tea

“some crab sticks sound really good right now,” dazai grumbles as he holds his stomach, finally getting out of the agency to the alleyway behind.

he rests his back on the wall, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, “you can come down now.”

at the silence, dazai quirks his eyebrow with a smile.

a figure drops from above the walls and the air brushes across dazai’s face gently, “looking fresh today,” he smoothly says and you turn to face him and he smirks, “y/n.”

you huff, crossing your arms, “you’re no fun!”

a chuckle erupts out of his chest and he walks towards you, “it’s not like you actually thought you caught me off guard, did you?”

the way you roll your eyes answers him and he laughs, ruffling your hair.

“still a long way for that, my love, but I am sure you can do it,” he muses.

you glare at him and dazai presses his lips to your forehead, “oh come now; I am risking getting fired to meet you in this alleyway. quite the scandal, don’t you think?”

“you make it sound like I work for the port mafia, ‘samu plus you never actually do paperwork.”

yeah, you don’t.

you work in another organization that’s more on the vigilante side and only comes out when necessary. still, you were considered as a pillar as much as the port mafia and the detective agency.

and that’s how he met you.

on a fateful day, when all forces had to join against the guild, he saw you. you were put to do the analysis and planning along his side and ranpo’s.

he didn’t know what to expect out of you, but he sure as hell wasn’t disappointed.

you were captivating to watch in battle (when needed) and absolutely brilliant , and he just had to pop the question, “would you do me the honor of joining me in a double suicide? your beauty would be quite the sight to view as I take my last breaths!”

he didn’t expect you to laugh, moreover for it to turn into a gentle smile and for you to pat him on the head, “you’re cute.”

you turned on your heel to think the plan through even more and dazai was left with ranpo crunching on some chips in the back.

“she totally treated you like a kid.”

“can we not talk about my failures as a man?”

and so that’s how the dynamic between you went, one of a patient and kind soul dealing with a whiny child.

“y/n! y/n! do you want to go out with me sometime tonight?” he asks, eyes filled with hope.

you shake your head gently, “how about you go hang out with atsushi, sweetheart? i am sure he would like your company.”

“but—I want to hang out with you,” the frown and sadness are basically dripping from his voice.

you wave your hand softly, “I am little busy now, honey; you can go play cards with ranpo-kun?”

he looked at you blankly, “…just how old do you think I am?” desperately trying to make his voice as light hearted as possible.

“hm?” you look at him and his slight irritation completely goes away but you answer his question nonetheless, “I was told you were a lot younger than me.”

“like about…?”

“6 to 7 years apparently,” you hum and he is confused; you look so young.

he knows it’s rude, like really rude to ask a lady her age, but he is just itching to know, “I don’t mean to be rude…but—“

“I am 24.”

he looks at you puzzled, and a little offended but he hides that with a pout, “they told you I was 18?”

you nod.

“and you believed them?”

you nod, a little confused and dazai is just wondering about how the hell are you the confused one here.

“do I look that young?”

“yeah,” you reply cautiously before speaking up softly, “…have I offended you?”

he purses his lips and takes a deep breath.

“I am sorry—“

he laughs, cutting you off, “I am actually flattered but I am the same age as you!”

it’s like you did a complete 180, “you sure don’t act like it.”

“pardon?” his smiles a little hesitant now.

“you act like an enfant on steroids, no wonder I was convinced you were younger.”

“oh? so it’s my fault?”

“undeniably so,” you insist before waving him off, “go play somewhere else.”

stubbornly, he takes a seat right beside you, “nope, I actually quite like it here.”

you groan and dazai already counts it as a little victory.

you both sit in silence but then dazai pulls back abruptly gasping, “what—you—why?!”

you giggle, pulling back with a satisfied hum, “now we are equal,” you smile (more like smirk, you little minx, he thinks) twirling the pen in your fingers, “to more rounds of annoying each other!”

he looks at his hand, utterly shocked and offended.

you drew a freaking penis on his hand.

he can’t help the pout that settles on his lips and he, truthfully, has the right to be mad so he grumbles, “and you said I was immature.”

you look at him, contemplating whether to answer him or not but you settle for yes, “it was a little experiment of mine.”

“oh really? how so?” he huffs as you stand up. it’s endearing to you how irritated he is, especially that he is mostly all charming and calm.

you nod, “I wanted to see whether you’re cute or not while pouting,” you chuckle at his face, “and I was correct: you’re pretty cute,” you move away with the slight wave of your hand.

meanwhile, dazai was left gaping. whether at the fact that you called him cute or the smiling penis on his hand, he doesn’t know.

he didn’t know that the rounds will continue till how long forever lasts for the both you.

and he also didn’t know that he would end up with you a couple of weeks later and to his surprise and absolute happiness, you made the first move, but right. dazai was left with no choice but to finally follow his heart and wish that bliss will follow along.

[cblgblog]

Hey. so that AU where Lilia Calderu is trying to ignore the world and do her thing in quiet in the early 2000s when her past and future self keep showing up to yell at her until she blinks and finds herself on the streets of Sokovia staring down two small recently orphaned and now homeless children, one of whom has the most terrifying magical aura about her. Or the Maximoff twins, raised by Lilia, and oh how they'd annoy the Avengers.

Oh my God, the chaos though. So much chaos.

Orphaned children who do not know who this random crazy woman is, and why should we go with you? Lilia who’s like, because I’m sick of talking to myself about you, that’s why. But also magics up some decent, warm clothes for them, some food. And hey, you’re welcome to stay in this Sokovian orphanage that looks like the most Dickensian, stereotypically bad orphanage I’ve ever seen, and I’ve lived a really long time.

Wanda and Pietro who think for awhile that Lilia must’ve been in some kind of explosion too. At least something that caused a head injury. Because they’ll be having a perfectly reasonable conversation—by Lilia standards—and then Lilia will just blurt out these random things that make no sense. They’re honestly kinda terrified she’s an escaped mental patient, especially when she starts going on about how Wanda’s a witch with all this untapped power.

“Like on Bewitched?” Because of course that’s where Wanda takes it.

And, mistake, because then there’s this 20 minute rant about how offensive and demeaning and stereotypical that show is, that the kids are just staring at wide-eyed, hoping Lilia interrupts herself with one of her random bits of gibberish. Alas, no dice that day, so they have to suffer her entire spiel about how terrible that show is, which just leaves Wanda deeply offended because shut up, she likes that show.

Pietro just, I don’t like it either, I told her it was stupid. Which gets him a “Good boy,” and a pat on the head from Lilia, not unlike what you’d give a dog.

Twins who think she’s absolutely lost it with this witch stuff, okay, okay, clearly Lilia has some weird ass hidden talents, but Wanda sure doesn’t. Until Lilia coaches Wanda into reading her mind, just a little bit, and oh, okay well, this is new. Wanda who immediately wants to learn more of that please, but no, nope, we’re starting out small, kiddo, you don’t need to be reading your brother’s mind.

Wanda asserts that there’s no trouble there, Pietro’s head is totally empty after all, and then Lilia’s refereeing a bickering match between 10-year-olds and just, sigh.

Lilia telling people that these are her poor, oh so tragically orphaned niece and nephew, and threatening to hex Pietro when he says grandchildren might be more convincing. She also totally uses them in her act, for cuteness and sympathy, oh how about a reading so I can feed my poor little orphan niece and nephews? Did I mention they were orphans?

Pietro grumbling about the unfairness of why Wanda gets cool witch powers and he doesn’t. They’re twins after all; shouldn’t he be a wizard or something? Wanda who lords her new skills over him at first, haha, look what I can do, then realizes that 1, it actually does make him feel bad, and 2—more importantly—he’s gonna be really boring to play with and unable to keep up with her if she doesn’t throw him some sort of bone.

Lilia comes down to breakfast one morning and suddenly Pietro has speedster powers, because of course he does, sigh. Well, that was nice of you, Wanda, sharing is caring, but also never do that again. Partly because it’s incredibly reckless and dangerous, mostly because it’ll now make my life even more complicated.

Lilia meeting up with a fellow witch for something, someone who clocks what Wanda is, or has the potential to be, and just, you have the most powerful magical being in the universe, someone who might be on track to destroy the world, you have this kid hanging out with you in your dumpy little shop shuffling tarot cards?

Lilia’s offense at that, I have a scared, orphaned child with me, who yeah might destroy the world, jury’s still out on that, but who is much, much more likely to do so if she’s running around with all this power and no training. Also, my shop is not dumpy, shut the fuck up.

Kids who are utterly thrilled when Tony Stark is missing and presumed dead, and look at Lilia with complete disgust when she has one of her walkabout moments and tells them Stark isn’t actually dead, he’s gonna come back and be a superhero and they’re gonna help save his life soonish. Twins just, no, absolutely not, thanks but no thanks, mom, we refuse, take away our allowance if you must but no.

And then stuff happens and they end up in New York where all these aliens are causing trouble and they wind up stopping Tony from having to fly into space with the nuke—he still makes the sacrifice play, he still tries to do the right thing, he just gets his play interrupted by a girl in a Hot Topic getup who’s really good at stopping missiles from going off, huh, who knew, where’d she learn that? Which stops Tony from having his Thanos visions and embarking on his descent into paranoia and ‘I must save the whole world by myself even though I literally just joined a team of really powerful co-workers who’s whole thing is helping each other save the world.’ Which ultimately stops the Civil War from going like it did, which in turn means the Avengers are whole and united when Thanos comes to Earth, and are able to stop him. Which stops the Snap, which stops Endgame, which means Tony doesn’t die.

So, Lilia is once again always right, much to the annoyance of the twins who really weren’t that interested in saving Tony’s life but eh, whatever, pluses and minuses to everything.

Also, Stephen Strange showing up at Lilia’s door at some point to discuss the twins because Lilia just, yeah, yeah, Sorcerer Supreme, whatever, such an ego, no, you’re not just whisking my kid off to your little health spa in Tibet, yeah, no, that’s not happening.  If you do, you're gonna have to take him with you, they're a package deal, yes even if he doesn't have magic.

Strange meeting Pietro and just, yeah, maybe I don't actually wanna do this after all, maybe we can discuss some kind of alternate arrangement for continuing her training.

[ill-say-anything-i-hafta]

Rocky Horror Picture Show Newsies AU

Hi, I realized today that all the characters from newsies have to be in a production of the Rocky Horror Picture Show and literally came out of retirement to write this down. Here’s the deal.

This is a college production with a shadow cast: shows are the last two weekends before Christmas break. Jack and Katharine are seniors and have been involved since they were freshmen. This time, they are reprising their roles as Brad and Janet, but their friend Medda, who always played Frank-N-Furter, just graduated and won’t be in the production this year.

Sarah is Magenta. Her brother David is only a sophomore and a rocky horror virgin (and the other kind too; in fact, he has never been kissed.) He decided it would be fun to try out for the criminologist, but he got cast as Frank instead, much to everyone’s surprise. He was horrified at first and thought about refusing the role, but ended up getting really into it. In his platform heels, he is about 7 feet tall and he looks amazing in lipstick and rubber gloves!

Racetrack plays Columbia and Spot plays Eddie. (Race is a trans guy and Spot is a cis girl; it is deliberately gender-bent casting.) Morris Delancey plays Riff Raff. He and Sarah really don’t like each other, which gives all their scenes together a special frisson. He doesn’t know any of his lines (true, he doesn’t have to say them, he just mouths them along with the actors on screen, but still!) and keeps messing up his cues, which offends Sarah’s sensibilities. His brother Oscar thinks the whole thing is stupid, but has been putting in lots of hours helping Morris practice.

You might think Crutchie would be stuck being the Crim because of the wheelchair, but no! He is Rocky. He performs totally naked except for a little gold loincloth. Elmer, who is in charge of props, helped Crutchie paint his crutches gold using paint they thought was water soluble. Turns out it is permanent, oops. Finch is the one who ended up being the Crim, which really suits his personality. He was set on the idea of having a fake mustache, even though the Crim doesn’t even have a mustache in the film. Elmer was like, sure, whatever, go nuts.

Buttons is doing costumes. He loaned Spot a leather jacket with shoulder pads from his personal wardrobe, which he will definitely never see again after the show wraps.

Darcy is the director; she is a theater major and is way too serious about everything. The cast tends to just ignore her, like Charlie Brown directing the pageant in “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Seitz does tech for the show. Specs is that guy who says he has stage fight, but he sits in the front row at every rehearsal and performance and yells at all the callbacks, even the really weird ones that refer to things that none of them have ever heard of. (I might do a part two of this post which is all of Specs’ favorite callbacks, which of course is really just my favorite callbacks.)

Albert sells little prop bags of playing cards and party hats and toast at the door. They are also the one who asks attendees if they have seen Ricky Horror before. If anyone says no, Albert marks that person’s forehead with a red v of lipstick and later, they pull all the virgins up on stage during the preshow for public embarrassment. They are way too into this task. The preshow consists of Romeo and Jojo in wigs and teddies and fishnets, dancing to the original Eartha Kitt “Santa Baby,” mugging and shaking their hips and pushing each other violently off of Santa’s lap. Bill Hearst plays Santa.

Jack and Katherine have been dating for years, by the way, but Katherine has a crush on Darcy and maybe also on Oscar Delancey. Jack is ostensibly straight, but he and Crutchie made out once on the roof of the Life Sciences building after pulling an all-nighter. And Jack really, really likes David. Really likes him. Yeah.

Tommy Boy and Hannah and Henry and Mush and anyone elseI forgot are all Transylvanians. Practically the whole cast were already friends with each other except for David, like I said, and Spot, who showed up to the auditions out of nowhere and has an amazing alto and scares the shit out of everyone. She is the star forward on their school’s winning soccer team. Spot didn’t tell her teammates she was doing the show. She keeps missing practice to go to rehearsal or missing rehearsal to go to practice. Race, who always thought he was 100% gay, is fascinated by her.

Weisel is the head of the campus Buildings and Grounds department. He keeps accidentally-on-purpose forgetting to unlock the classroom where they rehearse. And Joe Pulitzer is the assistant dean who tells them they are not allowed to throw toast or other food at the screen in the auditorium because it could attract vermin.

What will happen when he tries to shut down the show? What will happen when the girls from the soccer team follow Spot to the dress rehearsal? What will happen when David is struck by debilitating stage fright, right before the curtain goes up on opening night? Who will make out at the off-campus cast party????

[aballadforbarbatos]

a gift for satan, the master tutor

btw this one is like. 80 points long so gl with that. i had fun with it though! hopefully you do too ^.^

“listen. satan. let’s go out.”

his brain totally stops at that. nobody else seems to notice- did you whisper it? he can’t quite remember! he needs to reboot his brain, hold on a second MC

“hellooo? satan? i asked if you wanted to go out with me to town? on a shopping trip?”

so not a date then. WELL NO WONDER NOBODY LOOKED OVER AT THEM BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T ASKING IN THE FIRST PLACE

there also wasn’t a single question there, so he can’t help but suspect you were trying to tease him with the possibility of reciprocated love…

you smile at him. he thinks about saying no in retaliation. but then… what if asmo goes with you instead… or mammon… can he really risk that? no.

great day in town too btw. nice and warm and peaceful. you say something about how lucifer would give you his credit card if you got 100% on all your exams, and you did! satan thinks about how lucifer is such a goddamn sap when it comes to you. grow a backbone, loser

“so where are we going?”

“clothes shopping!”

ugh. he hates clothes shopping. it’s so boring, and he has enough in his wardrobe. so do you actually, why are you choosing to go CLOTHES shopping with lucifer’s credit card?? you already have enough?!

he voices this. but nicely. you shake your head and laugh.

“no, silly! we are going clothes shopping for YOU.”

we what now

“no offence, and i mean this with my whole heart, but your clothes are so incredibly ugly. it always looks like you got dressed in the dark. this belt looks like the one i had when i was 11.”

ok, rude

“it’s a good thing you’re a demon bc your closet is a sin in itself”

:( he thinks it looks nice!

“tbh i am embarrassed to be out with you looking like that, but for today it's fine because it’s for the greater good”

apparently it does not look as nice as he originally thought. ok

well, it’s lucifer’s credit card, and he gets to spend the day with you, so it COULD be worse

majolish is up first

he does a lot of standing around while you play around with clothes

“it’s kinda hard to see how this would look on you because your jacket is so goddamn ugly. can you take off your shirt for a second”

TOTALLY misses the flirtatious tone in that sentence and is just offended instead

then it clicks what you asked him. but he still doesn’t get what you were talking about and just gets nervous

“mc we are in public?????????”

you give him a Look.

he doesn’t understand why (he will hours later) (he will burst into your room while there’s another brother in there and say “i’ll take my shirt off for you mc!” and pull it off and the brother will punch him in the stomach. i’m thinking of mammon when i write this)

you find a sales attendant

“hey so i’m gonna burn all his current clothes because they’re awful”

you gesture at his outfit

YOU’RE GOING TO BURN ALL HIS CLOTHES??

WHY IS THE ATTENDANT NODDING LIKE SHE UNDERSTANDS??

“the jacket is distracting me because it’s ugly. can you help me out here?”

“have you tried taking it off?”

“i asked but he whined”

YOU DIDN’T ASK DON’T LIE AND DON’T LIE ABOUT HIM?

the attendant purses her lips but keeps her mouth shut. probably because he’s the avatar of wrath

“it’s so terrible because when you look at his face he’s hot, but then you look at the rest of his outfit and realise you value your dignity more. imagine how much of a heartthrob he could be if he didn’t permanently look like he was getting dressed in the dark!”

mc. what the fuck? HE’S NEVER HEARD SUCH A BACKHANDED COMPLIMENT

“i see. this could cost a lot of money…”

“it’s okay. we have his dad’s credit card.”

he’s going to strangle you. he starts thinking about how to kill you. au revoir mc. it is the end of your life. you will not get a gravestone.

then he remembers how much he’ll miss you. FUCK.

satan settles for a very strong glare. scowl and everything

“um. what size is he?”

“great question. satan take off your shirt so we can find out”

he does not. he still doesn’t get it. he does know his size though so he lets the demon know and then she does her thing.

then it’s trying on clothes. DAMN he hates this. this is terrible and SO BORING. how tf does asmo do it

it takes forever too :(

the demon whispers in your ear.

“hey satan have you tried wearing pants that fit you so we don’t have to suffer through the ugly belts you choose”

at least asmo isn’t here with you???

he finishes shopping with you at SEVEN O’CLOCK. HE SPENT NINE HOURS SUFFERING THROUGH THIS

you even asked if he could wear one of his new outfits out of the store and fold up the other one, and that’s how he ended up wearing something more “stylish”

you pay for them to deliver his new clothes to the house of lamentation via truck because you decide you can’t be bothered carrying the boxes.

not that it would be possible there’s like 20 there and they’re NOT small

“i feel like we’ve hit the spending limit on lucifer’s card even though it doesn’t have a limit”

honestly he feels like that too. but he’s a lot less remorseful about it than you apparently are

you grab his hand and squeeze it and look at him with such a lovely warm smile that it makes this whole day worth it.

you really wipe away all his suffering with a smile. this is really bad for him, satan is in for a whole world of trouble with you

you squeeze his hand

augh he’s so in love with you this is terrible. but so GOOD at the same time it’s a complicated thing don’t ask him to explain it

“now we get to go home and have fun!”

have fun…?

OH RIGHT YOU’RE GOING TO BURN ALL HIS CLOTHES HE TOTALLY FORGOT

“we don’t have to go that far”

“no we do. we can get belphie and asmo in on it too!”

so that’s how he’s spending his saturday night. burning all his clothes.

asmo says this is a celebration and brings music

belphie brings gasoline

asmo says that it’s fabric so there’s no need for gasoline

belphie pours more on the clothes like he’s making a point. satan has no idea what the point is

you bring out the rest of his clothes and tell him to kiss them goodbye

“can i at least keep the jacket?”

loud sigh from you! whY??

“ok sure whatever. now lets light these things on fire!”

asmo and you are having a great time. belphie is watching them all go up in flames from his spot on the ground

lucifer comes out and yells at you both but you’re too busy dancing in front of the fire to pay attention

“dance with me?”

satan feels a smile tug at his lips as he takes your hand.

he’s in love with you.

he’s so in love with you.

his heart will beat for you forever, taken in by your evil doings and gentle ways.

and tonight he’ll dance with you until the flames subside and you tell him to stop.

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! I couldn't add these interactions in without writing an absurd amount to fit it in properly, but I still really wanted to add them, so here, have these little scenes instead. The first one takes place just after Birdie tells everyone when her birthday is and her and Joe have a little side conversation. The second is a little moment between her and George at the birthday game night he throws for her.

let me know what you think x

As always, based on the hbo show/actors portrayal, no disrespect intended.

TW: nothing

Tags: @malarkgirlypop , @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter twenty and a half

Bernadette, Toye and Guarnere were some of the only people left in the mess hall. The woman had finished her food a while ago but was waiting for her friends to catch up. Bill was the last one, he got rid of his tray and came back to the table. Birdie saw him approaching and stood but was quickly stopped, “Sit down, missy.” Toye spoke up. He had a few questions for the young lady. 

“Yeah, you got some explaining to do.” Bill added, sitting back down across from her. 

“Am I in trouble?” She looked at the faces of her friends that were currently studying her. It made her feel like a child who had been pulled into the principal's office. 

“What the hell happened between you and Liebgott?” Toye spat out. He was a tad upset she hadn’t told him, after all, weren’t they best friends?

“Oh.. uh… nothing?” Birdie tried to play it off but she knew she couldn't avoid this forever. The issue was trying to explain something she herself didn't quite understand.

“Forgive me for not believing that.” Joe rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“No really… It was-” Birdie began, but she was cut off.

“What was? What happened?” Bill inquired, he was getting sick of the pretending game, he just wanted straight answers.

“He apologized. That’s all.” 

“Bullshit.” Both men hissed out in tandem. 

“Excuse me?” Birdie was taken aback, why were they so angry? She was allowed to make friends with whomever she wanted. Did they know something she didn't? Had Liebgott spoken to them about her? Suddenly she was flustered and bashful, looking down to avoid the men staring at her. 

“If all he did was apologise, why are you blushing?” 

“I’m not!” Her hand flew up to her cheeks to check their warmth, eyes wide and mouth parted.

“Yes, you are.” Guarnere responded, “Do you like him or something?” His eyebrows were raised, he genuinely didn’t know the answer. Toye on the other hand scoffed, of course she did, he thought that much was obvious.

“What?! No,I-... t-that's crazy!” Birdie was great at bluffing in games, not so much real life. Games had rules that were easy to understand. Life was more complicated. 

“Oh my god, you do!” Bill whisper-yelled accusingly.

“Jesus, Birdie.” Toye already knew this information but he was still mildly disappointed, “Seriously? Of all they guys… Him? Really?” His tone was so judgmental and Birdie was starting to get offended. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Her voice went up an octave. 

“You could do so much better.” Bill and Joe spoke at the same time, giving her the same answer.

—-------------------

“Here. It ain’t much cause you totally sprung this on me.” George handed over a bit of folded over card, “But happy birthday, Little Bird.” The front had a doodle of a pigeon type bird wearing a birthday hat and the inside was covered in scribbles from nearly every man in Easy, all wishing her a happy day among other sentimental comments. She read a few but tears formed in her eyes pretty quickly and made them blurry so she was forced to stop.

“Next year we’ll take you drinking.” Luz joked, playfully pushing at her shoulder before noticing the trail of watery tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“Hey, please don't cry on your birthday.” The radioman stepped closer to Bernadette, taking her in his arms and pulling her close. He rubbed his hands up and down her back, soothing the birthday girl. 

“I’m sorry…. I just- I miss my folks a-and…I….” Birdie sobbed, trying her hardest to breathe at a normal tempo, “Luz you're like family to me. I love you.” 

“Well now you're gonna make me cry, you sap.” He chuckled at the emotional girl curled up in his arms, “I love you too.”

A/N: I just couldn’t stop picturing George taking the card and pen round to every guy in Easy and forcing them to write something for Birdie!

Also the next real chapter might take longer than usual, love y'all x

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter twenty one

[mayobleachigosns5eva]

Enstars awesome crazy bass

somebody in enstars songs always goes crazy on the b

bass crazy on the bass I’m glad they’re there.. whoever plays it does a really good job like on Undead songs and also Crazy:B I think i kinda forgor now…, I’m really hearing it on the Yami no Mermaid or whatever 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 LISTEN TO THAT SOONGGGGGG THE INTRO IS SO GOOD I ASCEND EVERY TIME AND REI SOUNDS SOOOOOO GOOD IVE NEVER FELT AFFECTE BY HIS VOICE BEFOR BUT HIS SINGING IS REALLY GREAT HERE….. saying this as someone who is almost a Rei anti..(sorry to nice And pleasant Rei fans)

I feel like there is lots of focus on Kaoeu too …. He won WE WON how happy was he getting to have their album theme and big exclusive song for the it be mermaid/ocean themed… how wonderful….. HappyEle was liek Cater 2 U Destiny’s Child to him last year, he got SO MANY cards!!!!! Nobody else noticed… but I noticed . *slams hand on chest like defensive if u know what I mean liek proclaiming, hand on heart*

ok now I’m going to listen to Nightless World in ful for the first time I’ve never liked it cuz the chorus falls suuuuuuuper flat to me , I will update when finished ….. anyway the event IH THE BASS OK.. anyway the event associated with this song was the first one I ever grinded and worked hard for … I was doing calculations and stuff in my agendaboom LOLLLLLLLL to figure out how much BP, diamonds, and time I would need to be able to obtain Kaoru 😭😭 it was super easy.. duh lol. He was just the 4* KAORU SOLO LINE😍🥰🥰🗣🎶 he sang so clearly *gone to heaven* ok song over now it’s better in full but not superb still

I mean it was either Nogthless Workd Kaoru or Midnight Butker HiMERU that were the first event I ever worked for. Now, well no because I haven’t been playing but even before that I was falling off pretty severely… just not feeling like playing the actual game lol.. :/ or I’d save up entry passes and forget to use them all uo UGHHHHHH or MIXING UP THE TIME AT WHICH EVEENTS END DUE TO DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME CHANGESSSSSSSSS so many cards lost … so many diamonds that could have been redeemed with event ribbbons… so many possible memorial coins ….. so much L$… *sighs and droops head….. * but anyway for a LONG TIME! I would always reach 1M points in each event just from like. Doing stuff hrm…

Okk ell anyway that’s it I wanted to draw something blub while I was thinking of how to write that I forgot and reremembered it again but it’s a surplise so I can’t say it here hehe .. 😸 also the interlude for UNDEAD trip album is so nice, called No one knows… I could totally sleep to it and I think I will tonite.. 💜 ok but first I draw Natsumw and yes oi pk BYE!

last thing I love Kaoru’s “are you ready?” In Forbidden Rain, he sounds like a girl but my sister hates that about him 😢😢😢😢 she thinks he has a weird inconsistent voice which is .. sigh.. it’s true… BUT I LIKE THAT ABIUT HIMMMMM when he sounds cool or normal or like a girl lol . She doesn’t get it she doesn’t get it she would like him more if not for his voice 😭😭😭😭😭 HATERRRR I HATE HER FOR HATING HIM no i dont but I can’t be too 😍😍🤩🤩 about him or like anything toooooo much or else she won’t like it it’s like reverse psychology to herself,

I like it: it’s probably cool and good unless it’s onvisousky something not aligning of interest with her

I hate or dislike it: if she didn’t like it before, she will also have a negative bias against it. If she like sit she will be offended and/or forcibly converted against her will (case in point: project sekai)

I like it too much: if it’s not something that we directly share, such as a favorite character (i.e. Kaoru and Kanata) or something that we both like it but she isn’t into it at the time (happens a lot with Baruto cuz I will be bugging her to watch it which makes her want tot not watch it. I tink) then she will form her own hate bias against it … sad world, sinssnt it? Where loving something too much makes those around you not like it? :( h

but anyway she doesn’t hate Kaoeu or even dislike him, I thought she was eh on him but she put him on “like” on a tier list so ., 😌😊 ! She doesn’t like Kanata tho which makes me sad also she says that I’m a lot like him so this worries me 😔 and says we’re both stupid and absent minded and clueless and stuff and liek marine life (tho I already love & loved animals my specific interest in marine life predominantly stemmed from him (& Kaoru) even tho my mom wants to believe it’s because of Jotaro … I don’t want to lie to her or let her down so whenever she asked and joked that I should study dolphins I would say yes… she doesn’t know that his research was actually on starfirsj… or maybe i mixing it up with my online friend who was working on his thesis to get a doctorate or something lol) but me and Kanata we are… MECCHA KAWAIIIIIIII ∩^ω^∩ >* ))))>< !!!!! ☆彡･.＊｡“♪♡

Also I really love Kaoru second solo song, Surf on Smile because he is soooo happy and cute I cried a lot when I first heard it and listened to it over and over… #GoneCrazy? Yes but Feather Heartache was mg most played song last year 🤫🤫🔛🔝

GOODBYE TUMBLR!!!!

[battlfofendorr]

The Best Intentions

Summary: The 11th Street Gang is on lunch break, and Vig suffers from a case of premature hotsaucelation.  PG for hints at crude humor?

IDK man still trying to figure this weird little alien brain out.  Some of it is playing for laughs, but there’s consistency underneath it, okay??

#

It’s not that Vigilante wants to miss the cues that make him feel like he’s speaking a foreign language  - or, rather, everyone else around him is. It’s that his brain defaults to literalism, and there’s nothing short of a full-frontal lobotomy that can change it.

Even then, he’s had enough blows to the head and assorted stab wounds that if a little scrambling about inside his skull was going to change something, it would have done so a long time ago.

No, the things that make him different are inherent – innate.  His mind spins off on currents and tides unfathomable to most people. Even himself, sometimes. Sad little boats in a duck pond instead of the open sea.

The words get ahead of him, or chase down a pattern structure that he doesn’t really understand, and then he’s left holding a bag of metaphorical cats – each one squirmy and adorable and in need of…

No, that saying doesn’t make much sense, does it? Why would anyone want a bag full of cats?

He’s not dwelling, as the 11th street gang banter around the lunch table, celebrating a recent win. He’s just wishing – a little – that he was in on the jokes.

It doesn’t help that people have a way of saying so many things that don’t really add up. That absurdism reigns supreme in English, a hodgepodge of things taken at face-value and metaphors that make it impossible to understand or follow along.

He knows aphorism, and alliteration, and metaphor. He has read lists of those commonly used impractical phrases, memorized their general meanings.  But it’s not something he recognizes – not something he follows. Not something he translates automatically.

It’s like asking how someone is doing, when you don’t really want to know. It’s because it’s what people do.

And so many of his attempts to blend in to it – to mimic, to copy, to just be a person – go awry.

That’s why he’s holding a bottle of hot sauce, staring down Economos, stiff, unsure what the joke is – unsure if he should be laughing or offended. Unsure if should be a gut-buster, or a polite chuckle, or a roll of his eyes like Harcourt always does, like she’s too cool to laugh, but still in on the joke.

He’s absolutely positive that if he gets it wrong, everyone will notice.  And it’s a rigged game, because it’s pure chance, and he’s missing half the cards that would tell him what to do.

And they get so impatient – so annoyed – when he gets it wrong.  Especially when he’s the one attempting a joke. They demand, Why is that funny? Ask him if he’s a total moron.  Insist he’s a buffoon.

Or worse, they get mad, but in a sneaky, quiet way. A way that builds, undetectable until it’s nothing short of rage.

Maybe he’s not firing on all cylinders anymore.   Maybe he doesn’t understand their attachment to strangers, their aversion to permanent solutions. Maybe he doesn’t understand their morality, which is built in pure grayscale, when his is so literal, so black-and-white.   Maybe it’s just that he’s cracked, but that’s not exactly new news. 

And he wants to get it. He wants to fit in. He wouldn’t admit it – couldn’t even explain the why – but he needs to fit in, as much as he needs a BFF like Peacemaker.

He wants to laugh. But he’s not really sure about the joke.

He’s late to laughing, because he’s weighing his options. And then his laugh goes a little long, or a little stiff.  He’s not killing it, as Adabayo would say. It’s not really a laugh – it’s a disguise. A way to fit in.  To use the same humor they all wield so deftly with one another.

And he holds the hot sauce, trying to keep the question inside, trying not to need to know the thing his brain insists is of vital importance, because it’s not just the jokes, or the expressions. It’s all the nonverbal stuff, too. So when they turn on to the next thought, Vigilante remains frozen. Like a foreign element, his body gives tells, tips people off that he’s not full up on the culture – not really communicating on the same level.

He really doesn’t mean to ask. He doesn’t. But it’s how he’s wired.

“Is it because it’s red?”

The groans are immediate.

“it’s not because it’s fucking red,” Peacemaker snaps, and the motion is so abrupt Vigilante’s hands slip along the neck of the hot sauce bottle, popping the lid right off, sending it spurting out across the table.  It splatters into Adabayo’s burger, and up over the crinkle-cut fries, painting them up like a murder victim.

“Damnit, Vigilante!” Economos takes the hot sauce back, never mind that Vig hadn’t meant to use it, hadn’t actually decided if he was going to try to, even. Never mind that he’d been surprised by Peacemaker’s sudden annoyance.

“My French fries!” But Harcourt’s eyes crinkle, and even Vigilante can tell she’s not annoyed. His bothering Economos is somehow a humorous thing they all agree on, because Adabayo starts to laugh, too, and even Peacemaker gets in on it. And Vig knows – because he’s spent a lot of time studying it – that these are their real laughs, their real smiles.  Not the pretend kind, or the annoyed kind, but the kind that they reserve for those quiet moments when they’re not a collection of weirdos, or a bunch of people speaking different languages. Those moments where they’re the 11th Street Kids, and somehow, for a fraction of a second, even with only half a deck to work with, Vig has played exactly the right card.

It's magic, but so fleeting – like cotton candy falling into a river, it just melts into nothing.

“Best part of being a lesbian is never having to worry about a premature hot-sauce-ulation,” Peacemaker says, leaning into the good mood, tossing a smile at Adebayo, resident lesbian and the group’s least volatile emotional mediator.

“That sounds like a personal problem, Chris.” But she laughs, wiping at those brown eyes of hers, and even Economos gets in on the giggling.

It’s rare, those moments where he thinks he understands them. Where he thinks they’re as much his friends as Peacemaker’s.

Where he thinks, maybe, he wants more than one friend.

It’s rare, and maybe, just maybe, it’s a good thing. A sign that he’s if not evolving then at least getting better at pretending to speak the language he hasn’t quiet figured out. 

[lunaloomer]

Kiss the Sun (chapter one)

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Danny’s Cousin!OC(Grace) Warnings: Underaged drinking (let me know if I missed anything)

(Italicized text indicates a flashback)

Summary: Grace and Josie's plane ride is uneventful as Josie naps but Grace's thoughts remain fixated on Sam, reflecting on their lives back in Frankenmuth.

The plane ride was dull, to say the least. Grace and Josie had barely spoken as Josie opted for a nap that lasted the entire plane ride while Grace stuck to the movie she’d rented.

She’d barely paid attention to the movie as the sound of it lulled through her headphones. All she thought of was Sam, Sam and his stupid self.

“You can’t do that! It’s illegal!”

“Who says?! Huh?!”

“According to the rules listed,” Jake pulled out the piece of paper, dramatically pointing to the rules, “You can not stack +2s on top of each other!”

“Bullshit!” Sam yelled as he stood up and slammed his cards on the table. “We’ve played like this since we were kids! You only say no because you’re winning unless I make you draw more!”

“I’ve always played like this!” Jake now stood as if the two would challenge each other to a duel at any moment.

Josh simply laughed as he passed his brothers, who were undoubtedly drunk as the rest of the party raged around them.

What started as a bonfire at the old Heeley Farm thrown by one of their friends had become a party in the barn as the fire had died out. Josh had grabbed another beer for himself and Jake but decided against it when he saw that Jake was clearly too drunk for another. He’d lost track of Danny about an hour ago but assumed Grace was worrying about him.

Looking back at the remnants of the large bonfire that was now more the size of a campfire, Josh saw two figures, one laying on the log bench and the other sitting with their head in their hands. Josh sighed as he made his way over to the smoldering fire, two beers in hand. 

He saw Danny passed out on the log bench and Grace, who looked up from her hands and stared into the flames of the fire as she seemed to wonder if it could show her the future or possibly solve all her problems with a simple question. Josh plopped himself ungracefully next to her but she paid him little attention. He passed her the extra beer before taking a swig of his own. “What’s on your beautifully intricate mind, Gracie?” She mumbled, bringing the bottle of beer to her lips.

“Nothing, really. It’s stupid.” She mumbled, bringing the bottle of beer to her lips.

“Well Daniel’s out like a light, you’re secrets are safe with me.” Josh said, wrapping his arm around Grace’s shoulders.

“Yeah right, anything I tell you goes straight to Jake. You might be a lock box but Jake is a blabbermouth.” She laughed, leaning her head onto Josh’s shoulder.

“Hey! I don’t tell Jake everything!” He feigned offense as he took another glug of beer before silence fell between them. “How about this, because I can tell whatever it is is eating you alive, you tell me your secret and in exchange, I’ll tell you a secret.”

Grace gasped, “The great Josh Kiszka has secrets! I thought you didn’t have anything hidden!”

“Okay, okay, but I am not a completely open book as many would believe.” Josh took another sip, “So… go on. A secret for a secret.”

Grace looked behind them, making sure no one was around, as well as a very long glare at Danny to make sure he was, in fact, sleeping. “Fine, it’s Sam.”

Josh instantly tensed up, “What did he do?”

“Nothing, exactly.” She started, “It’s just that for like years, I’ve had this stupid crush on him and he has yet to notice. I guess I just… I don’t know, it’s stupid. It wouldn’t work, it can’t work. It’d put the band in jeopardy. If we broke up and it was nasty, Danny would be torn the band would be over, their friendship would be over.”

There was a beat of silence as they both sat there, staring at the flames. “Damn, that is a lot, but I totally called that.”

Josh started laughing, Grace instantly felt confused and offended, “Called it?!”

“Well, yeah!” He said, still laughing, “Jake and I called that you two liked each other years ago.”

“Well just because you “called it” with Jake doesn’t mean you can go and tell him!” Grace said, shrugging off his arm.

“Hey! I promised, didn’t I?” He held his hands up in surrender as Grace scoffed before moving back next to him.

After Grace took a few more chugs of her beer she looked up at Josh, “Well, Mr. Wonderful? What’s your darkest secret?”

“You know I am quite wonderful.” He lolled his head to the side. “But a promise is a promise, I like guys.”

Grace was mid-sip when she heard the words and she choked, not expecting them. “Josh! What the hell?!”

“What? You said “deepest secret!” What did you expect?!”

“Not that!”

“You can’t tell anybody!” Josh seemed immediately defensive.

“What? Of course, I won’t tell anybody!” Grace said quickly. “So… what does this mean? Are you like…”

“I don’t know! There’s too many logistics that go into all that. I like A guy. That’s the only label I’ll put on it.”

“Fair enough.”

There was another beat of silence, “When I say you can’t tell anyone I mean you can’t tell anyone.” Josh emphasized the last word.

“Well, you’ve told your family right?” Grace asked cautiously. Josh kept silent. “You’ve told Jake, at least, right? You tell Jake everything.”

“Listen it’s a very recent development and with the town we live in-”

“You told me before you told Jake?!” Grace seemed shocked beyond belief, although the alcohol was not helping her to keep calm.

“Shhhhh!” He let out quickly while putting his hand over her mouth. “You’re literally the only one that knows.”

“You have to tell Jake at least!” Grace whisper yelled, “I can keep a secret but it’s gonna eat you alive to not tell him.” They both knew she was right and Josh nodded.

“I’ll tell him, I’m just… nervous.” He mumbled, looking down at his hands.

“Josh. He’s your brother, he’s literally your other half, he’s going to be nothing but supportive.”

“I know, I swear, I’ll tell him tomorrow when we’re both sober.” He said straightly, a smirk growing on his face, “But you have to tell Sam about your crush.”

“No! You know Jake will support and love you no matter what! Your whole family will! Sam? I’m not ready for that rejection!” She laughed as they both stood, silently considering their options on how to get Danny home in his comatose state.

She smiled at the memory of Josh as the movie played and she couldn’t help but think about Sam and how much she dreaded getting off the plane.

But that moment had come, the plane had landed, they’d walked to baggage claim and collected their bags, and they’d exited the airport to see Danny waiting for them with a car. Josie excitedly ran up, jumping to hug her brother as he opened his arms, her suitcase long forgotten.

Grace laughed and shook her head as she approached. Danny laughed as he and Josie squeezed each other tightly, “Oh my god! I missed you!” Josie said excitedly before Danny put her back on the ground.

Danny looked at Grace, “Well you don’t have to look like you don’t want to see me.” He jested as Grace smiled and moved forward, getting wrapped in a hug by her tall cousin.

“It was a long flight.” Grace reasoned as she pulled back.

“Ah, that jet lag will kill you.” He joked as he moved to help the girls with their bags, throwing them in the back of the car.

The car ride to the boys' house wasn’t long but it felt like an eternity as Grace dreaded seeing Sam once again.

[cleverhottubmiracle]

Laura Lifshitz has found that all it takes to get into the right swimsuit is time, patience, humility, self-tanner, her daughter’s approval and a total alignment of the stars. See if this month’s “Life with the Girls” sounds like an all-too-familiar process. There are few decisions more anxiety-inducing in life than buying a bathing suit. Deciding whether to swipe left or right, signing a divorce agreement or choosing the right time for a colonoscopy might be roughly equivalent to the level of thought that goes into whether I bring a given tankini home with me. And if you’ve never had the pleasure of doing any of the above activities like I have, well bless your heart. Bikinis, bottoms, one-pieces, cup support, cover-ups…the options are endless. I so envy a man’s toughest decisions: blue bathing trunks or red? Clean pair or out of the hamper? Of course, with all the excitement that goes with swimsuit shopping—summer, you came back!—I’m also furrowing my brow way too much and earning serious Botox units on the road to choosing the right suits. By the time I finally plunk down my credit card, here are the deciding factors that have already come into play: 1. My child Much to my chagrin, my daughter is often a key stakeholder in my swimsuit shopping.  She’s only eight, but the feedback started last year. What she lacks in tact, she makes up for in candor, which comes in spades; she has zero qualms about crushing her mom’s Spandex illusions. “You’re not going to get that one, are you?” she asked me recently, eyeing me up and down as if I was wearing litter I picked up off the street. (This reaction was actually better than what she served me with when I tried mixing-and-matching a bikini: a grimace that looked an awful lot like my former mother-in-law’s default expression.) Apparently, I embarrass. That’s okay, I remind myself. Her teenage years, and my wardrobe vetoes, are coming. 2. My cycle Sorry, progeny, but on second thought, my menstrual cycle seriously has more pull on the bathing suit trigger than almost anything. Am I bloated? Yeah, I’m gonna have to pass on that low-cut bikini bottom in favor of the high-rise. Are my breasts nearing Coast Guard-approved flotation device status? Then I’d better look for a 5-hook-and-eye underwire supreme. 3. My vacation destination Okay, come to think of it, it’s the destination that decides everything! Do I really want major boobage while hanging out at the town pool? It’s hard enough to find the courage to wear a bikini when your cup size sounds like an algebraic equation (U.S. DDD-cup = E.U. F-cup = U.K. E-cup = meltdown), let alone while worrying about other moms—or, heaven forfend, dads—looking at you. But if I’m going to the beach alone or with friends, well, then it’s balls to the wall. Or boobs to the shore. All I really need is an adults-only tropical resort…single, straight male readers of this ladies’ lingerie blog, are you picking up what I’m putting down? 4. The company I keep It’s not just about the age or life stage of the humans with me but often, the level of judgment those humans exhibit. So before I say yes to a suit, I try to take into consideration the comrades who may be along for the ride. Showing up to the beach with my sarcastic and somewhat emo eight-year-old requires a different strategy than say, a really hot man. Or a family member. If children are present, I’d rather not have someone’s tweenage boy judging my boobs, be it out of trauma or fascination. If I’m with my somewhat conservative girlfriend, I will put on a moderately cute tankini so as not to offend. If my New Age-y girlfriend is with me, I’ll take risks, depending on whether my aura is feeling hot or not. 5. My blood sugar level Going to a store and trying on in a dressing room is enough to give me hives or pull my hair out in chunks, whichever is faster and less attractive. Personally, if I shop online with the moral support of a really empathetic, dedicated Bra Fit Expert, I’m know I’m bound to come away with a decent purchase. But if I’m left to my own devices, wandering rack after rack of suits hung without rhyme or reason, willpower fading, I’m typically back in the car faster than you can say, “Grande vanilla non-fat chai latte, please.” 6. My shopping destination Once I finally realized I had way more options online, my swimsuit game changed. It was like that giddy happiness I got when my divorce was finalized, but better. The first time I found Bare Necessities, I could’ve cried. Options, options everywhere! Sizes, styles and silhouettes for summers until I retire. All it requires is a bit of self-control. Okay, a lot of self-control. 7. My skin tone Since my only complexion settings are barely alive or burned to a crisp, I know I need to lean heavily on the power of both a good pattern and diligent reapplication of bronzer. If I had the forethought and the time to use self-tanner, I might take a shot on a teeny bikini. But if I’m my normal shade of “two weeks into a morgue visit,” I’ll play it safe and pick out a jewel-tone tankini. 8. My bikini line Let’s be honest, my haircut downstairs also determines how I’m gonna turn up at the beach or pool. A clean look is always best, but sometimes time constraints (mom life, amirite?) or razor burn get in the way. And that, my friends, is when I reach for a pair of boyshorts. Now you know. 9. The price tag When it comes to buying swimwear, my dollars inform my choices as much as my derriere does. How many times have I cringed at the cost of a suit I just had to have? But still I would argue every time that a good bathing suit is worth the spend. My strategy is to pretty much stalk a suit online and obsesses over it, remembering all the details and visiting it regularly until I’m absolutely sure I’m in love with it and feel prepared to commit. (Side note, maybe I should try this approach with dating?) Usually, I nab the suit at the right time, but there’s a chance you take. I have returned to the link to find that my size is sold out in the top or bottom, dashing my dream look. The pain is unending, I tell you. Spare yourself if you can. 10. The stars Sometimes, my astrological chart is out of whack, and my plans for what to pack are dashed against the proverbial rocks. Other times, my celestial house is in order and I score big: That maillot and bikini top are on sale, in my color, in my size. They look damn good on, and it’s all been worth it. Source link

[norajworld]

Laura Lifshitz has found that all it takes to get into the right swimsuit is time, patience, humility, self-tanner, her daughter’s approval and a total alignment of the stars. See if this month’s “Life with the Girls” sounds like an all-too-familiar process. There are few decisions more anxiety-inducing in life than buying a bathing suit. Deciding whether to swipe left or right, signing a divorce agreement or choosing the right time for a colonoscopy might be roughly equivalent to the level of thought that goes into whether I bring a given tankini home with me. And if you’ve never had the pleasure of doing any of the above activities like I have, well bless your heart. Bikinis, bottoms, one-pieces, cup support, cover-ups…the options are endless. I so envy a man’s toughest decisions: blue bathing trunks or red? Clean pair or out of the hamper? Of course, with all the excitement that goes with swimsuit shopping—summer, you came back!—I’m also furrowing my brow way too much and earning serious Botox units on the road to choosing the right suits. By the time I finally plunk down my credit card, here are the deciding factors that have already come into play: 1. My child Much to my chagrin, my daughter is often a key stakeholder in my swimsuit shopping.  She’s only eight, but the feedback started last year. What she lacks in tact, she makes up for in candor, which comes in spades; she has zero qualms about crushing her mom��s Spandex illusions. “You’re not going to get that one, are you?” she asked me recently, eyeing me up and down as if I was wearing litter I picked up off the street. (This reaction was actually better than what she served me with when I tried mixing-and-matching a bikini: a grimace that looked an awful lot like my former mother-in-law’s default expression.) Apparently, I embarrass. That’s okay, I remind myself. Her teenage years, and my wardrobe vetoes, are coming. 2. My cycle Sorry, progeny, but on second thought, my menstrual cycle seriously has more pull on the bathing suit trigger than almost anything. Am I bloated? Yeah, I’m gonna have to pass on that low-cut bikini bottom in favor of the high-rise. Are my breasts nearing Coast Guard-approved flotation device status? Then I’d better look for a 5-hook-and-eye underwire supreme. 3. My vacation destination Okay, come to think of it, it’s the destination that decides everything! Do I really want major boobage while hanging out at the town pool? It’s hard enough to find the courage to wear a bikini when your cup size sounds like an algebraic equation (U.S. DDD-cup = E.U. F-cup = U.K. E-cup = meltdown), let alone while worrying about other moms—or, heaven forfend, dads—looking at you. But if I’m going to the beach alone or with friends, well, then it’s balls to the wall. Or boobs to the shore. All I really need is an adults-only tropical resort…single, straight male readers of this ladies’ lingerie blog, are you picking up what I’m putting down? 4. The company I keep It’s not just about the age or life stage of the humans with me but often, the level of judgment those humans exhibit. So before I say yes to a suit, I try to take into consideration the comrades who may be along for the ride. Showing up to the beach with my sarcastic and somewhat emo eight-year-old requires a different strategy than say, a really hot man. Or a family member. If children are present, I’d rather not have someone’s tweenage boy judging my boobs, be it out of trauma or fascination. If I’m with my somewhat conservative girlfriend, I will put on a moderately cute tankini so as not to offend. If my New Age-y girlfriend is with me, I’ll take risks, depending on whether my aura is feeling hot or not. 5. My blood sugar level Going to a store and trying on in a dressing room is enough to give me hives or pull my hair out in chunks, whichever is faster and less attractive. Personally, if I shop online with the moral support of a really empathetic, dedicated Bra Fit Expert, I’m know I’m bound to come away with a decent purchase. But if I’m left to my own devices, wandering rack after rack of suits hung without rhyme or reason, willpower fading, I’m typically back in the car faster than you can say, “Grande vanilla non-fat chai latte, please.” 6. My shopping destination Once I finally realized I had way more options online, my swimsuit game changed. It was like that giddy happiness I got when my divorce was finalized, but better. The first time I found Bare Necessities, I could’ve cried. Options, options everywhere! Sizes, styles and silhouettes for summers until I retire. All it requires is a bit of self-control. Okay, a lot of self-control. 7. My skin tone Since my only complexion settings are barely alive or burned to a crisp, I know I need to lean heavily on the power of both a good pattern and diligent reapplication of bronzer. If I had the forethought and the time to use self-tanner, I might take a shot on a teeny bikini. But if I’m my normal shade of “two weeks into a morgue visit,” I’ll play it safe and pick out a jewel-tone tankini. 8. My bikini line Let’s be honest, my haircut downstairs also determines how I’m gonna turn up at the beach or pool. A clean look is always best, but sometimes time constraints (mom life, amirite?) or razor burn get in the way. And that, my friends, is when I reach for a pair of boyshorts. Now you know. 9. The price tag When it comes to buying swimwear, my dollars inform my choices as much as my derriere does. How many times have I cringed at the cost of a suit I just had to have? But still I would argue every time that a good bathing suit is worth the spend. My strategy is to pretty much stalk a suit online and obsesses over it, remembering all the details and visiting it regularly until I’m absolutely sure I’m in love with it and feel prepared to commit. (Side note, maybe I should try this approach with dating?) Usually, I nab the suit at the right time, but there’s a chance you take. I have returned to the link to find that my size is sold out in the top or bottom, dashing my dream look. The pain is unending, I tell you. Spare yourself if you can. 10. The stars Sometimes, my astrological chart is out of whack, and my plans for what to pack are dashed against the proverbial rocks. Other times, my celestial house is in order and I score big: That maillot and bikini top are on sale, in my color, in my size. They look damn good on, and it’s all been worth it. Source link

[ellajme0]

Laura Lifshitz has found that all it takes to get into the right swimsuit is time, patience, humility, self-tanner, her daughter’s approval and a total alignment of the stars. See if this month’s “Life with the Girls” sounds like an all-too-familiar process. There are few decisions more anxiety-inducing in life than buying a bathing suit. Deciding whether to swipe left or right, signing a divorce agreement or choosing the right time for a colonoscopy might be roughly equivalent to the level of thought that goes into whether I bring a given tankini home with me. And if you’ve never had the pleasure of doing any of the above activities like I have, well bless your heart. Bikinis, bottoms, one-pieces, cup support, cover-ups…the options are endless. I so envy a man’s toughest decisions: blue bathing trunks or red? Clean pair or out of the hamper? Of course, with all the excitement that goes with swimsuit shopping—summer, you came back!—I’m also furrowing my brow way too much and earning serious Botox units on the road to choosing the right suits. By the time I finally plunk down my credit card, here are the deciding factors that have already come into play: 1. My child Much to my chagrin, my daughter is often a key stakeholder in my swimsuit shopping.  She’s only eight, but the feedback started last year. What she lacks in tact, she makes up for in candor, which comes in spades; she has zero qualms about crushing her mom’s Spandex illusions. “You’re not going to get that one, are you?” she asked me recently, eyeing me up and down as if I was wearing litter I picked up off the street. (This reaction was actually better than what she served me with when I tried mixing-and-matching a bikini: a grimace that looked an awful lot like my former mother-in-law’s default expression.) Apparently, I embarrass. That’s okay, I remind myself. Her teenage years, and my wardrobe vetoes, are coming. 2. My cycle Sorry, progeny, but on second thought, my menstrual cycle seriously has more pull on the bathing suit trigger than almost anything. Am I bloated? Yeah, I’m gonna have to pass on that low-cut bikini bottom in favor of the high-rise. Are my breasts nearing Coast Guard-approved flotation device status? Then I’d better look for a 5-hook-and-eye underwire supreme. 3. My vacation destination Okay, come to think of it, it’s the destination that decides everything! Do I really want major boobage while hanging out at the town pool? It’s hard enough to find the courage to wear a bikini when your cup size sounds like an algebraic equation (U.S. DDD-cup = E.U. F-cup = U.K. E-cup = meltdown), let alone while worrying about other moms—or, heaven forfend, dads—looking at you. But if I’m going to the beach alone or with friends, well, then it’s balls to the wall. Or boobs to the shore. All I really need is an adults-only tropical resort…single, straight male readers of this ladies’ lingerie blog, are you picking up what I’m putting down? 4. The company I keep It’s not just about the age or life stage of the humans with me but often, the level of judgment those humans exhibit. So before I say yes to a suit, I try to take into consideration the comrades who may be along for the ride. Showing up to the beach with my sarcastic and somewhat emo eight-year-old requires a different strategy than say, a really hot man. Or a family member. If children are present, I’d rather not have someone’s tweenage boy judging my boobs, be it out of trauma or fascination. If I’m with my somewhat conservative girlfriend, I will put on a moderately cute tankini so as not to offend. If my New Age-y girlfriend is with me, I’ll take risks, depending on whether my aura is feeling hot or not. 5. My blood sugar level Going to a store and trying on in a dressing room is enough to give me hives or pull my hair out in chunks, whichever is faster and less attractive. Personally, if I shop online with the moral support of a really empathetic, dedicated Bra Fit Expert, I’m know I’m bound to come away with a decent purchase. But if I’m left to my own devices, wandering rack after rack of suits hung without rhyme or reason, willpower fading, I’m typically back in the car faster than you can say, “Grande vanilla non-fat chai latte, please.” 6. My shopping destination Once I finally realized I had way more options online, my swimsuit game changed. It was like that giddy happiness I got when my divorce was finalized, but better. The first time I found Bare Necessities, I could’ve cried. Options, options everywhere! Sizes, styles and silhouettes for summers until I retire. All it requires is a bit of self-control. Okay, a lot of self-control. 7. My skin tone Since my only complexion settings are barely alive or burned to a crisp, I know I need to lean heavily on the power of both a good pattern and diligent reapplication of bronzer. If I had the forethought and the time to use self-tanner, I might take a shot on a teeny bikini. But if I’m my normal shade of “two weeks into a morgue visit,” I’ll play it safe and pick out a jewel-tone tankini. 8. My bikini line Let’s be honest, my haircut downstairs also determines how I’m gonna turn up at the beach or pool. A clean look is always best, but sometimes time constraints (mom life, amirite?) or razor burn get in the way. And that, my friends, is when I reach for a pair of boyshorts. Now you know. 9. The price tag When it comes to buying swimwear, my dollars inform my choices as much as my derriere does. How many times have I cringed at the cost of a suit I just had to have? But still I would argue every time that a good bathing suit is worth the spend. My strategy is to pretty much stalk a suit online and obsesses over it, remembering all the details and visiting it regularly until I’m absolutely sure I’m in love with it and feel prepared to commit. (Side note, maybe I should try this approach with dating?) Usually, I nab the suit at the right time, but there’s a chance you take. I have returned to the link to find that my size is sold out in the top or bottom, dashing my dream look. The pain is unending, I tell you. Spare yourself if you can. 10. The stars Sometimes, my astrological chart is out of whack, and my plans for what to pack are dashed against the proverbial rocks. Other times, my celestial house is in order and I score big: That maillot and bikini top are on sale, in my color, in my size. They look damn good on, and it’s all been worth it. Source link

[chilimili212]

Laura Lifshitz has found that all it takes to get into the right swimsuit is time, patience, humility, self-tanner, her daughter’s approval and a total alignment of the stars. See if this month’s “Life with the Girls” sounds like an all-too-familiar process. There are few decisions more anxiety-inducing in life than buying a bathing suit. Deciding whether to swipe left or right, signing a divorce agreement or choosing the right time for a colonoscopy might be roughly equivalent to the level of thought that goes into whether I bring a given tankini home with me. And if you’ve never had the pleasure of doing any of the above activities like I have, well bless your heart. Bikinis, bottoms, one-pieces, cup support, cover-ups…the options are endless. I so envy a man’s toughest decisions: blue bathing trunks or red? Clean pair or out of the hamper? Of course, with all the excitement that goes with swimsuit shopping—summer, you came back!—I’m also furrowing my brow way too much and earning serious Botox units on the road to choosing the right suits. By the time I finally plunk down my credit card, here are the deciding factors that have already come into play: 1. My child Much to my chagrin, my daughter is often a key stakeholder in my swimsuit shopping.  She’s only eight, but the feedback started last year. What she lacks in tact, she makes up for in candor, which comes in spades; she has zero qualms about crushing her mom’s Spandex illusions. “You’re not going to get that one, are you?” she asked me recently, eyeing me up and down as if I was wearing litter I picked up off the street. (This reaction was actually better than what she served me with when I tried mixing-and-matching a bikini: a grimace that looked an awful lot like my former mother-in-law’s default expression.) Apparently, I embarrass. That’s okay, I remind myself. Her teenage years, and my wardrobe vetoes, are coming. 2. My cycle Sorry, progeny, but on second thought, my menstrual cycle seriously has more pull on the bathing suit trigger than almost anything. Am I bloated? Yeah, I’m gonna have to pass on that low-cut bikini bottom in favor of the high-rise. Are my breasts nearing Coast Guard-approved flotation device status? Then I’d better look for a 5-hook-and-eye underwire supreme. 3. My vacation destination Okay, come to think of it, it’s the destination that decides everything! Do I really want major boobage while hanging out at the town pool? It’s hard enough to find the courage to wear a bikini when your cup size sounds like an algebraic equation (U.S. DDD-cup = E.U. F-cup = U.K. E-cup = meltdown), let alone while worrying about other moms—or, heaven forfend, dads—looking at you. But if I’m going to the beach alone or with friends, well, then it’s balls to the wall. Or boobs to the shore. All I really need is an adults-only tropical resort…single, straight male readers of this ladies’ lingerie blog, are you picking up what I’m putting down? 4. The company I keep It’s not just about the age or life stage of the humans with me but often, the level of judgment those humans exhibit. So before I say yes to a suit, I try to take into consideration the comrades who may be along for the ride. Showing up to the beach with my sarcastic and somewhat emo eight-year-old requires a different strategy than say, a really hot man. Or a family member. If children are present, I’d rather not have someone’s tweenage boy judging my boobs, be it out of trauma or fascination. If I’m with my somewhat conservative girlfriend, I will put on a moderately cute tankini so as not to offend. If my New Age-y girlfriend is with me, I’ll take risks, depending on whether my aura is feeling hot or not. 5. My blood sugar level Going to a store and trying on in a dressing room is enough to give me hives or pull my hair out in chunks, whichever is faster and less attractive. Personally, if I shop online with the moral support of a really empathetic, dedicated Bra Fit Expert, I’m know I’m bound to come away with a decent purchase. But if I’m left to my own devices, wandering rack after rack of suits hung without rhyme or reason, willpower fading, I’m typically back in the car faster than you can say, “Grande vanilla non-fat chai latte, please.” 6. My shopping destination Once I finally realized I had way more options online, my swimsuit game changed. It was like that giddy happiness I got when my divorce was finalized, but better. The first time I found Bare Necessities, I could’ve cried. Options, options everywhere! Sizes, styles and silhouettes for summers until I retire. All it requires is a bit of self-control. Okay, a lot of self-control. 7. My skin tone Since my only complexion settings are barely alive or burned to a crisp, I know I need to lean heavily on the power of both a good pattern and diligent reapplication of bronzer. If I had the forethought and the time to use self-tanner, I might take a shot on a teeny bikini. But if I’m my normal shade of “two weeks into a morgue visit,” I’ll play it safe and pick out a jewel-tone tankini. 8. My bikini line Let’s be honest, my haircut downstairs also determines how I’m gonna turn up at the beach or pool. A clean look is always best, but sometimes time constraints (mom life, amirite?) or razor burn get in the way. And that, my friends, is when I reach for a pair of boyshorts. Now you know. 9. The price tag When it comes to buying swimwear, my dollars inform my choices as much as my derriere does. How many times have I cringed at the cost of a suit I just had to have? But still I would argue every time that a good bathing suit is worth the spend. My strategy is to pretty much stalk a suit online and obsesses over it, remembering all the details and visiting it regularly until I’m absolutely sure I’m in love with it and feel prepared to commit. (Side note, maybe I should try this approach with dating?) Usually, I nab the suit at the right time, but there’s a chance you take. I have returned to the link to find that my size is sold out in the top or bottom, dashing my dream look. The pain is unending, I tell you. Spare yourself if you can. 10. The stars Sometimes, my astrological chart is out of whack, and my plans for what to pack are dashed against the proverbial rocks. Other times, my celestial house is in order and I score big: That maillot and bikini top are on sale, in my color, in my size. They look damn good on, and it’s all been worth it. Source link

[oliviajoyice21]

Laura Lifshitz has found that all it takes to get into the right swimsuit is time, patience, humility, self-tanner, her daughter’s approval and a total alignment of the stars. See if this month’s “Life with the Girls” sounds like an all-too-familiar process. There are few decisions more anxiety-inducing in life than buying a bathing suit. Deciding whether to swipe left or right, signing a divorce agreement or choosing the right time for a colonoscopy might be roughly equivalent to the level of thought that goes into whether I bring a given tankini home with me. And if you’ve never had the pleasure of doing any of the above activities like I have, well bless your heart. Bikinis, bottoms, one-pieces, cup support, cover-ups…the options are endless. I so envy a man’s toughest decisions: blue bathing trunks or red? Clean pair or out of the hamper? Of course, with all the excitement that goes with swimsuit shopping—summer, you came back!—I’m also furrowing my brow way too much and earning serious Botox units on the road to choosing the right suits. By the time I finally plunk down my credit card, here are the deciding factors that have already come into play: 1. My child Much to my chagrin, my daughter is often a key stakeholder in my swimsuit shopping.  She’s only eight, but the feedback started last year. What she lacks in tact, she makes up for in candor, which comes in spades; she has zero qualms about crushing her mom’s Spandex illusions. “You’re not going to get that one, are you?” she asked me recently, eyeing me up and down as if I was wearing litter I picked up off the street. (This reaction was actually better than what she served me with when I tried mixing-and-matching a bikini: a grimace that looked an awful lot like my former mother-in-law’s default expression.) Apparently, I embarrass. That’s okay, I remind myself. Her teenage years, and my wardrobe vetoes, are coming. 2. My cycle Sorry, progeny, but on second thought, my menstrual cycle seriously has more pull on the bathing suit trigger than almost anything. Am I bloated? Yeah, I’m gonna have to pass on that low-cut bikini bottom in favor of the high-rise. Are my breasts nearing Coast Guard-approved flotation device status? Then I’d better look for a 5-hook-and-eye underwire supreme. 3. My vacation destination Okay, come to think of it, it’s the destination that decides everything! Do I really want major boobage while hanging out at the town pool? It’s hard enough to find the courage to wear a bikini when your cup size sounds like an algebraic equation (U.S. DDD-cup = E.U. F-cup = U.K. E-cup = meltdown), let alone while worrying about other moms—or, heaven forfend, dads—looking at you. But if I’m going to the beach alone or with friends, well, then it’s balls to the wall. Or boobs to the shore. All I really need is an adults-only tropical resort…single, straight male readers of this ladies’ lingerie blog, are you picking up what I’m putting down? 4. The company I keep It’s not just about the age or life stage of the humans with me but often, the level of judgment those humans exhibit. So before I say yes to a suit, I try to take into consideration the comrades who may be along for the ride. Showing up to the beach with my sarcastic and somewhat emo eight-year-old requires a different strategy than say, a really hot man. Or a family member. If children are present, I’d rather not have someone’s tweenage boy judging my boobs, be it out of trauma or fascination. If I’m with my somewhat conservative girlfriend, I will put on a moderately cute tankini so as not to offend. If my New Age-y girlfriend is with me, I’ll take risks, depending on whether my aura is feeling hot or not. 5. My blood sugar level Going to a store and trying on in a dressing room is enough to give me hives or pull my hair out in chunks, whichever is faster and less attractive. Personally, if I shop online with the moral support of a really empathetic, dedicated Bra Fit Expert, I’m know I’m bound to come away with a decent purchase. But if I’m left to my own devices, wandering rack after rack of suits hung without rhyme or reason, willpower fading, I’m typically back in the car faster than you can say, “Grande vanilla non-fat chai latte, please.” 6. My shopping destination Once I finally realized I had way more options online, my swimsuit game changed. It was like that giddy happiness I got when my divorce was finalized, but better. The first time I found Bare Necessities, I could’ve cried. Options, options everywhere! Sizes, styles and silhouettes for summers until I retire. All it requires is a bit of self-control. Okay, a lot of self-control. 7. My skin tone Since my only complexion settings are barely alive or burned to a crisp, I know I need to lean heavily on the power of both a good pattern and diligent reapplication of bronzer. If I had the forethought and the time to use self-tanner, I might take a shot on a teeny bikini. But if I’m my normal shade of “two weeks into a morgue visit,” I’ll play it safe and pick out a jewel-tone tankini. 8. My bikini line Let’s be honest, my haircut downstairs also determines how I’m gonna turn up at the beach or pool. A clean look is always best, but sometimes time constraints (mom life, amirite?) or razor burn get in the way. And that, my friends, is when I reach for a pair of boyshorts. Now you know. 9. The price tag When it comes to buying swimwear, my dollars inform my choices as much as my derriere does. How many times have I cringed at the cost of a suit I just had to have? But still I would argue every time that a good bathing suit is worth the spend. My strategy is to pretty much stalk a suit online and obsesses over it, remembering all the details and visiting it regularly until I’m absolutely sure I’m in love with it and feel prepared to commit. (Side note, maybe I should try this approach with dating?) Usually, I nab the suit at the right time, but there’s a chance you take. I have returned to the link to find that my size is sold out in the top or bottom, dashing my dream look. The pain is unending, I tell you. Spare yourself if you can. 10. The stars Sometimes, my astrological chart is out of whack, and my plans for what to pack are dashed against the proverbial rocks. Other times, my celestial house is in order and I score big: That maillot and bikini top are on sale, in my color, in my size. They look damn good on, and it’s all been worth it. Source link