#the ed bashing thing is like. its always been a preference its just something i have to dodge a lot harder these days

[arsenicflame]

the things abt fanfic tropes is like, ultimately, if its izzyfic (and not mean to ed these days) i am reading it. i will read anything. the day i started reading ofmd fic is 447 pages back in my ao3 history and i would say fic involving izzy to some degree is 75% of that, at a conservative estimate. im so fucking easy

[hawkland]

Dear Smut4Smut creator

Letter for the 2021 Smut 4 Smut exchange

My AO3 profile: sidewinder

Thank you for writing or creating art for me! I know I’ll be thrilled with whatever you come up with for any of my requests. (And if I babble on or have more prompts for one ship than another, don’t take that as any kind of preference. Some I just am more specific in the kinds of smutty scenarios I’m requesting/wanting at this time, but I love them all the same.)

Please consider the requested tags all the “prompt” you need if so inspired, if none of my suggested scenarios and ideas inspire you. Also, of course, feel free to combine them or use only one as you see fit! 

General Likes

Non-penetrative sex (especially in first-time scenarios). I love extended kissing scenes, frottage, mutual hand jobs, characters so turned on and overwhelmed that they come from barely being touched/before they can get all their clothes off, etc.

Romantic smut more than really kinky smut (though a bit of light bondage/restraint can be fun!)

That said, I have a definite weakness for wing!kink and tentacles... where appropriate :) 

Generally stoic/repressed/strong characters breaking down and needing comfort/hugs/acceptance of their vulnerabilities

Inverted relationship power dynamics - in the sense of a seemingly older and/or more powerful character actually being less experienced in sex/romantic relationships, or having more doubts & insecurities, and needing the younger/less powerful character to take the lead or reassure them.

In art - I really love all styles of fan art and just seeing how different artists interpret my favorite characters. Seriously, and that’s not just a cop-out because I’m crappy at coming up with art-specific prompts.

General Do No Wants

A/B/O dynamics, mating heats

animal abuse/death

anything related to pregnancy/childbirth

formalized BDSM relationships

non-canon gender identities and/or sexual orientations except gay/bi/pan for requested ships/characters 

scat/watersports

unrequested alternative-universe scenarios such as high school/genderswap/coffee shop/etc (however, canon-divergent AUs completely fine!)

Supernatural-Castiel/Dean Winchester

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants: Bad ending/unhappy-ever-after, Sam-bashing, any suggestions of Wincest

I confess I am a very new Destiel-shipper/SPN fan, having only gotten into the show late last year (post-finale.) So while I know there are mountains of stories already written about this ship, sometimes it’s nigh impossible to dig through it all to find stories that scratch the specific fic cravings I have. Hence all the prompts/ideas for them here, some of which I’m sure have been done to death already...but please humor me :)

Long Prolonged Make-Outs

Kissing All Over

Frottage

First Time Sex is Non-Penetrative 

First Time with Partner of the Same Gender

Experience - Experienced/Inexperienced

Experience - Experienced Partner Lets Inexperienced One Explore Them

Playful Sex

Morning After (Incredible Sex the night before)

I love everything about newly-human!Cas in season 9 (and Cas’s hedonistic tendencies in general). I have to imagine that, as a human, he just feels things with an intensity that angels just don’t feel, as if with human lifetimes so condensed, their senses are intensified to make up for it in a way that would be overwhelming for a hugely powerful/nearly immortal creature like an angel.

So give me any story about Cas’ exploring and fully embracing the sensual pleasures of sex (with Dean). I love Season 9 canon-divergence fics where Dean lets him stay in the bunker. Perhaps after his first taste of sex with April, Cas wants to add to his experiences by having sex with a male-bodied human/someone he deeply cares about (ie, DEAN). Dean may still be struggling with his own internalized homo/bi-phobia but it’s hard for him to resist Cas with his insatiable curiosity about how the human body works, having no filters/no taboos and just wanting to taste/touch/experience until he/they both are completely overwhelmed.

Wings as Erogenous Zones

Wing Kink

I love wings and true-form Cas as well. In fact I’m totally okay with canon-compliant, post-finale fic in Heaven if it means Dean can finally see/experience Cas’s true form (or at least glimpses/parts of it) without dying (because, you know, already dead and all that.) Otherwise, I’m always up for AUs where Dean can sense/feel/see Cas’s wings (if Cas wants him to) and they are an incredible erogenous zone for the angel. Maybe even his most powerful one.

Touching All Over

Touch-starved character overwhelmed from seemingly innocent touches

Touch-starved

Awkward First Times

Trauma Recovery

thank god you're/we're alive sex

Tender Sex with Lots of Eye Contact & Barely Repressed Feelings

Tender Sex

Shame in Sexual Desires

Room-Wrecking Sex

Reunion Sex

Characters mutually pining finally get together and have amazing sex

Desperate Sex

Sex gets paused to deal with PTSD then maybe returned to 

I’ll take all the Cas-is-back, ignore-the-finale fics that are possible. Give me touch-starved Cas after his rescue from The Empty. (Dean can be fully into immediately satisfying his needs or, for angst, still struggling with/unsure of his feelings/sexuality.) It’s tender and healing, or maybe it’s explosive with all those years of pent-up desire and needs. You tell me, I love it all!

Sex While Washing Off The Blood of Their Enemies

Sex While Covered In The Blood of Their Enemies

sex under the stars

Outdoor Sex

Car Sex - on the hood of a car

Car Sex - in the back seat

Hotel Sex

tender making out in a car

sex after a long car ride

For these tags, I’m thinking canon-divergent future-fic where Dean is getting older (maybe Cas is too, if he’s lost his grace), yet they still go out on hunts together on occasion to relive the “glory days”. (Sam’s happily settled down and out of the hunting life with Eileen). They enjoy post-hunt sex in the outdoors or in/on the car, or seedy motel, reveling in the adrenaline of the kill, reaffirming their need and love for each other. Yum.

Supernatural - Endverse Castiel/Dean Winchester/Endverse Dean Winchester 

Desperate Sex

Threesome - M/M/M

Threesome - Character/Crush/Another Version of Crush

Turned On By Violence

One last fuck before you die

Drugs - Drug Use

Time Travel - Sleeping with older/younger version of someone you know in your own timeline

Time Travel - Sleeping with older/younger self

Pairing-Specific DNWs: None here. Go as dark as you want, since it’s Endverse.

Um, yeah. Pretty much what the tags suggest. Dean knows its freaky as hell but maybe he catches his future self and Cas having sex and they invite him in. Maybe he sees it as a chance to be with Cas (even this very different Cas) like he can’t in his own time. Castiel is totally messed up over seeing the man he had fallen in love with (and fallen from grace for) as he had been, back then, and can’t contain himself now that he’s gone so deep into carnal/hedonistic pleasures.

The Orville - Gordon Malloy/Ed Mercer

thank god you're/we're alive sex

"We Lived" Kiss Reveals Feelings

Stranded - On Another Planet/World With No Way Home

Huddling For Warmth Leads To Sex

on the run together

Desperate Sex

One last fuck before you die

Fandom-specific Do Not Want: No Kelly-bashing.

I’d love something set in the alternative universe/timeline of “The Road Not Taken”, where the Kaylons have won, leaving Gordon and Ed on the run together.  Just, any kind of desperate situation where they know they could die at any moment, so they might as well seek whatever comfort, love and tenderness they can find being with each other.

Laughter During Sex

Awkward First Times

Friends to Lovers

First Time Sex is Non-Penetrative

Frottage

Something Made Them Do It

Drugs - Experimental Substance Has Weird Sexual Side Effects

Casual Sex while Secretly Pining

Laughter During Sex

Something fun and silly (and sexy), please, using any of these tags! The show just screams out for tropey “something made them do it” scenarios, be it due to aliens, alien food or drink, whatever. Otherwise I’d love a story where they realize they do have more serious feelings for each other than their (up til then) casual relationship has allowed.

The Good Place - Michael/Eleanor Shellstrop

Tentacles - Tentacle Sex

Tentacles

Xeno - Nonhuman Partner is Ashamed of Their Body

Experience - Experienced/Inexperienced

Awkward First Times 

Laughter During Sex

romantic sex

Tentacles - Gentle and Tender Tentacle Sex with Lots of Caresses and Cuddles

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants: No Chidi-bashing (but also, no Chidi/Eleanor endgame references/suggestions).

The ship/canon where I will eternally want tentacle smut! Michael seems so ashamed of his fire-squid demon form. I want him to find out that Eleanor actually finds it kind of a turn-on and would love to find a way she could...experience it. Since we know Michael can create simulations/realities (like he does in “The Trolley Problem”), maybe he can create one where Eleanor can see/experience a version of himself that won’t, you know, destroy the entire neighborhood or burn her to a crisp?

Otherwise I’m good with any kind of first-time scenario in one of Michael’s “reboots” (or later on when they’ve figured things out and are in Michael’s Neighborhood Improvement Experiment). Awkward Michael figuring out his human body’s reactions to Eleanor, them having fun and romantic sex, would definitely make my heart happy.

[empressxmachina]

by Imperial-Radiance (that’s me)

1|1: Faux Pas, part 1, is also on Wattpad.

"All the shit we do, and this doesn't get any easier."

"It's only because no one does it like we do or... or, ugh, at all, really."

The Center of Colors, the most marveled museum of art in all of Oswana if not the entire world, was a fortress in its own right, and all attempts by a not-so-young maho madam to push open the one door inside it that led to its underground car park were to no avail. The age of the door was a blink in comparison to the building that housed it. Looking past that, it still was not used as proportionally often as originally designed due to 'more preferred' transit options for safety reasons. But, with the particular event taking place there – the biannual meeting of the Continental Couturiers' Council – and a certain, small minority quickly rising up its rankings, putting some oil on the door hinges would have been the easiest courtesy.

Yet, here this lady was, having to force all her might just from an unlocked but still stuck door, adding to the lengthy list of surprises of the night. But she wasn't alone in the struggle.

"Uh, Mel?" a concerned Lyanna expressed, quickly simmering down her tense self after seeing how roughly her best friend was fumbling with the push bar. "You good?"

"Come on! Really!?" Melanie continued to grunt, not allowing herself to give in so quickly, even if it possibly ruined her blazer in the process – not the best look at a fashion event. "What��is this!?"

"Damn. If Miss 'Moore Gains, Moore Power' can't open the thing, it really must be tight," Lyanna claimed in jest. She, despite being in similar, unfortunately-formal-for-the-task fashion, joined Melanie's efforts at her side, groaning as she repeatedly rammed her upper arm into the surface like a linebacker. "Maybe, urgh... Lanky Ly can be... a little help."

Melanie was all for the assistance, especially given all the reasons she had to not expect it. But, getting it with a shaded humblebrag, even if jokingly, was not going to happen. A critical look was sent Lyanna's way in protest, and sassy yet complimentary projections soon were, too.

"'Lanky', my ass. How many ball sports... did you say you... played in school again? How many of them... weren't co-ed... before you joined? Which one of us... qualified for... for the... Superhero Circuit... over thirty... on accident!?"

It only took the first rebuttal for Lyanna to regret making her lighthearted comment at all. But, like the mature woman she was, she took it in stride with an apology.

"Okay, okay. I get it!" she stretched through more grouses of strain. "I'm sorry. You happy?" Melanie paused her own pushes for a second to shine a grin at her buddy that epitomized 'I told you so'. Her receiving a set of rolling eyes and a scoff back followed right after, paired with Lyanna taking her exertion efforts to the next level. "But," she resumed, feeling her shoulders start to slide out their sockets, "my athleticism... means nothing if... if it can't help us... get through... the fucking... DOOR!"

Giving in to all of the pressure, the bar lock finally began to budge. However, no one, especially not the designers of the door, ever figured for that much force, let alone by two, tired maho ladies, to be spread across the bar like that. They had much more strength than they realized, or the door was weaker than expected, and before they knew what they were doing, the door flew open out of their grasp, echoing with Lyanna's voice into the mostly empty garage as it slammed into the wall.

Inertia sent Lyanna and Melanie forward, unable to keep balance on their skinny, high heels. Melanie, closer to the hinges, managed to catch herself on a nearby parking barrier, but Lyanna found her stopping place not on the ground or on a structure but instead in the arms of an awaiting security guard.

"Got ya, ma'am," the uniform-donning young man assured with a slight strain in his voice upon catching her. "Are... Are you alright?"

Lyanna sneered at his brief struggle, knowing fully well that she wasn't that heavy until she realized it was not due to her at all, at least not completely. In the distance, the door to the office where all of the watching camera footage was housed was wide open with most screens showing the three of them right then. If he had been watching the ladies' struggles until not long ago and decided to help for himself, then he would've had to run to reach them in time. Looking at his tired but quickly recovering state, he probably did that, just slightly too late and switching to a catcher's role in the heat of the moment.

Getting over the drama of it all, Lyanna gave her savior some solace as she rose and composed herself. "Yes, thank you. I... I'm fine."

"Not as much as you, cutie pie," Melanie winked at the guard with her down-home charm, to which he returned a bashful gasp. "What's a handsome soul like yourself doing out on the town late on a weekend alone, guarding C-Cubed at CC, no less?"

"I, uh," the young lad had trouble finding the right words.

On one hand, getting a compliment was always nice, especially if both lighthearted and likely to result in an extra tip. On the other hand, if he egged it on too much, then it'd just be asking for a bunch of double-sided trouble for way too many reasons to count. Aware that he couldn't leave her hanging, he replied with something reasonable in between.

"I-I'm just working to pay for school, ma'am, getting what I can, whenever I can." He smoothed the wrinkles in his suit, hoping to worsen his seemingly bad first impression. "I'm not even a guard. I'm more like a concierge, though I can drive people around, too, so I don't even know if that's even the right term." He quickly recognized he was right on the cusp of rambling about his nondescript job position and soon reverted to a more robotic, reserved offer. "A-Anyway, shall I call you two a car?"

"You can do better than that," Lyanna surprisingly interjected, stretching her back with a backward, propped bend. "I'll call your bluff. Drive us home, then. The two of us aren't too much for you in this big city, are we?"

If Melanie's comment sent blood to the guy's face, then Lyanna's did the opposite, blanching it bright from assertive surprise. Though, knowing who they were and what they were known for, such responses were expected in the back of his mind. Nonetheless, he caught Lyanna's declaration of the challenge and accepted it.

"Let me, uh, just grab a key from the station," he stated, pointing back toward the office, "and we'll be on our way. Choose any one of the vehicles by the wall you like, and I'll meet you there."

Like a hummingbird, he zoomed away to grab the nectar of his choosing, leaving the two ladies to converse and corner a car... all the while cutting each other down.

"You were not just charming that child, were you?" Lyanna pressed, strutting over to her friend. "He's young enough to be either of our children, and I know you're not that crazy."

"Of course not, you dunce," Melanie defended, with an eye roll, offended being typecast from a simple false flirtation. "Like I'd court a kid to have a good time." She managed to get a chuckle out of her best friend as she wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to the back of one of the vans. "I'm trying to make that young man into a mannequin. You don't think he'd be a good look for the new line?"

"It's less that and more 'You couldn't have asked more normally?'"

"What's more fitting than looking for fashion models at a meeting for fashion designers?"

"I don't know, giving out a business card and telling him to call you at a normal hour? Damn it!" For a second, Melanie thought that Lyanna was actually mad at her. But the pause just turned out to be a dramatic one, replaced by more giggles. "Damn you, innovative bitch."

Melanie soon joined into the laughing fit. "You know it. See? I'm always making money moves, even if people don't agree with my vision."

Her wording was too specific for it to not be related to and reignite the tensions acclimated over the duration of the meeting she had to hide behind glossy lips and gritting teeth. "We're back to talking about what we were before we found ourselves fighting the architecture, huh?"

"We do too much for too little reward, apparently. Is that what you said?"

"Not... exactly," Lyanna hissed, clicking every T with purpose, "but you're not wrong, either." Leaning back against the trunk, thankful for a siren not going off in the process, she looked up at the ceiling and processed her thoughts. Her memories of the evening.

Drinks. Hors d'oeuvres. Designs for two seasons from now. It wasn't much different than usual. Lyanna's peers had finally gotten used to how she ran her business after so many years of it 'not evolving' except in styles. But it was just tolerance rather than full-on acceptance, and the constant stares and murmurs that they seemed to throw in overtime toward her tonight garnered an equal reaction back: allowed but never wanted.

The worst part of it, aside from the blatant prejudice behind Lyanna's doings, was that they never considered why she does it. Seeing things from her and maybe Melanie's views would be more help than harm. Though, given how they got where they were, they'd forever be oblivious unless she made a scene.

While the two prim pals measured the parking deck to easily house multiple homes, it was barely worthy of an under-bed shoe organizer to the khadra: the larger, other halves opposite their maho selves with whom they shared the world. Well, their nation, at least. One couldn't be sure about the rest of the planet nowadays. Even so, everything Lyanna lived and worked for, no matter how high she rose, would forever be under their noses, perhaps even underfoot.

Simply thinking back to the dastardly door, once again, only made her more upset, remembering how it was basically a metal slab wedged within floor molding shadowed by a nearby stand. The Council could've paid someone to at least act like a security for smaller folk, but the fact that the Center kept their half of the deal was a little reassuring.

Probably one-twelfth of what her full pleasure banks could hold: the standard fraction.

"Sure, we get flooded in respect for our abilities," Lyanna commented, still gazing toward the above ground, "but it's just a cop-out. The collabs we do are never enough; they want more out of us. It's like they assume we have to give them everything not because they deserve it or because it's right but because they're fucking—"

"Ah, here we go," the young guard cut in, to Melanie's favor. Having known her bestie for two decades, she knew he had shown up right on time and prevented an imminent Lyanna explosion. Jiggling his keychain with a glowing smile as he unlocked the van's doors, sidewinding the looks of respective relief and heat diffusion on the ladies' faces, he was completely none the wiser. "We're ready for action. If you'd allow me..."

Continuing his act like a gentleman, he opened the doors for the two women, first Lyanna on the passenger's side of the backseat and then Melanie seated right behind him. Considering they thought they were simply in for a glorified taxi cab ride, they had quite the shock seeing how decked up the innards of the vehicle were. It wasn't a party bus or anything resembling a limo rented for a promenade, but the selection of fun-sized snacks, drinks, and reading material, on top of how comfy the seats and lighting were, was a sight to behold.

The ladies were greatly impressed all around, quickly sharing a look of wonder with each other, but the oblivious driver wouldn't be able to see that, focused only on the job at hand. Plus, the sight of Melanie on her phone and Lyanna already sipping on a tiny water bottle as she looked out her window gave no hint to it, whatsoever. He was happy to see them fully adjusted, totally bounced back from their tumbles and fumbles, and it irked him that he might break that calmness for the last necessities of his job.

"I do apologize for this, but I almost forgot," he said, looking in the rear-view mirror at them as he started the engine. "The Center of Colors has this policy where the drivers have to get crossed confirmations for—" His declaration faltered at the ladies' look of confusion at his jargon, thus needing clarification in common, much more comfortable language. "Basically, they want two forms of authorization for each passenger. Usually, a quick clip where you say your name or something like that should be fine. I know who you are, and I'm sure most others do, too, but it's the tradition. If you wouldn't mind...." He pressed a button on his controls and started recording, signaled by a light on his rear-view mirror and a mechanical bloopy noise. "...giving a quick roll call."

The two thirty-somethings looked at each other, both not saying a word and both testing each other to see who would crack first. After what felt like forever, emphasized by the driver's nervous coughing and wheel tapping to crack the silence, and in a noble act of succession, the first to introduce themselves was,

"Melanie Moore."

Melanie Moore. Chief marketing officer. Queen of advertising. Flirtatious firecracker. Part-time yogi. Slayer of Oswanian style boundaries with her pop-up collections like her golden-hued 'Code Mellow'. C-Cubed's 'Best New Designer' a few years ago because of them. She was happy to have made a name for herself, specifically under her own name, but she knew and never denied that she'd never be where she was if it weren't for,

"Lyanna Paulson." Lyanna fucking Paulson.

Naturally a brunette. Currently a blonde. Visible exercise and sports fanatic. Drink connoisseur. A flash celebrity made in the blink of an eye all based on luck. The epitome of nouveau riche. The youngest member to have been inducted into C-Cubed (and receive its BND award like Melanie) back when she was twenty-four. The Designer of the Year not long after. Melanie's best friend. Also, Melanie's boss, technically, but she rarely states that aloud. She was a lot of things and known for many more. But she was a household name for two.

Her fashion and design company 'Moonsong', along with its occasional luxury dabbles via 'Lunar Serenade', was going fifteen years strong with top sales and quality. Yet, in all of those fifteen years, with the exception of collaborations with industry peers and the even more occasional one-offs, every product was strictly for maho, leading to an aura of presumed racism constantly washing over her.

The two buddies bickered back and forth on the openness of their projects to those that towered over them, each having solid reasons for their views. But, with Lyanna having more say and severity, it always went her way. The threats and attempts of harm that were sent her way in the beginning when people realized her khadra-closed doors weren't just a phase, along with a few every now and then, weren't fun to experience. But even her miffed adversaries and confused familiars had to give her props for standing her ground and defending the safety of her staff, and each trouble always seemed to dissipate as quickly as it came.

That, and all of her giving back to just as many khadran causes as native maho ones helped, but people just seemed to always gloss over that.

Lyanna, even with her brief smile into the camera and mic, was still fuming from the event, and thinking of all her conflicts leading up to it wasn't making it better. Luckily for her, Driver Boy seemed to catch that, even with his back turned. Pushing her was the last thing he wanted to do. He just hoped his body could follow his heart and mind.

"I, uh..." he struggled to speak at first, seeing the coldness in Lyanna's eyes as she gazed into the camera. But that soon passed over, and his goal to make sure the drive did the same launched in full force. "I know you two must be looking for privacy going through the garage," he observed. "It's good that I know some scenic routes around the city. So, please make yourselves comfortable, and enjoy the ride."

Melanie had already found her way back to phone diving toward whatever as the van left the safety of the parking deck and, for the pair of couturiers, waved goodbye to C-Cubed for six months. The carpooling posse simultaneously passed under the art museum's overly cheerful exit sign, getting an eye roll of her own out of Lyanna.

'Thank you for visiting the Center of Colors!' it expectantly exclaimed. That farewell stayed still on the sign, but its lower half in all its mechanical glory had to show off, switching between presumably planned puns every few seconds. The trio managed to go under just as one went off – 'We hope to color you impressed once again really soon!' – and another took its place – 'May we brighten your day with flying colors upon your return!'

The wish for any sort of spectrum wasn't necessary as the aura around was still lively and beaming, perhaps being that last thing Lyanna's somewhat buzzed, water-guzzling person needed in her face.

"Hello, Xesant," she sarcastically greeted the outside world. "Glad to see you're still lively on a Sunday night." From its art-bordering white LEDs to the rainbow of marquees and HIDs along the streets, it was back to the big city they knew so well yet still a long way from home.

Xesant. A city nearly ten million strong by itself, and it looked like all of those citizens had filled the sidewalks like a sardine tin. A gem of Oswana, the city was, despite not being its capital. Half a tourist trap and half a modern marvel... and everything no one would've thought Lyanna would've submerged herself in for two decades. Luckily, she had Melanie by her side through it all, but she only eased the tension, not rid her of it.

She'd never be rid of it as long as she lived there.

Oswana was right at, if not itself being, the intersection of the planet's two historically opposite halves together: the more land- and khadra-filled northern Drakh and the sparser southern Hoemue with the maho. Time followed its course, and the communities came together, finally coalescing at the major metropolis literally on the equator between them: Lyanna's anxiety-driving abode.

Out of all the places in the world, Oswana, especially Xesant, had managed to optimize integration to a T, and it still amazed Lyanna after twenty years seeing it all work in action. It just made no sense in her head.

Watching vehicles and souls that were the size of houses pass by so strongly yet swiftly and never be in the way. Alternating stoplights and substitute paths for both sizes for undisrupted travel. Mismatched yet complementary pairs of windows, doors, and on every building for everyone to have a place to take in their surroundings. Blended groups – a surprisingly large minority – somehow walking in pace with each other, neither too fast nor too slow.

That one khadran girl crossing directly in front of the van – shoes taller and possibly heavier than the vehicle itself – with a maho in hand, losing her balance, and managing to fall with a resonating thud toward the Moonsong troupe with both her companion safely cupped to the chest and all her long and loose limbs snaking between all the tiny cars, including their van, on their side of the road.

All of this at once, emphasized by a cacophony of horn blaring and muffled, concerned voices. Yet, as Lyanna drank her way through more than a handful of bottles in seconds at the sights, the driver didn't even flinch, and Melanie may not have even noticed. Her lockage in her phone was made even more apparent by her following statement, cracking the lull of silence within their four, glass-peeking walls.

"Oh, look," she announced, sliding her phone over to Lyanna's vista. "In case you cared..."

With her nonchalant tone and apparent lack of awareness for her surroundings, even as the driver drove around the still collapsed cohorts, one could've assumed she found an article pertaining to the current slip and trip debacle outside that looked a lot like fake news if it weren't actually true. However, her carelessness was genuinely due to the routine with C-Cubed finally updating their social media and website with details from the meeting's latter half. What particularly caught Melanie's and now Lyanna's eyes was the results of the unimportant-aside-from-a-trophy, aptly named superlative voting, 'In Case You Cared'.

Lyanna usually didn't care enough to view them as soon as they were posted, regardless of having voted herself, mainly waiting until the next morning to see what any newcomers had to offer. However, with Melanie thrusting them in her face, she knew it had to be something interesting. Lo and behold,

"Congrats, Ms. 'Styled and Profiled,'" Melanie praised her bestie, who looked more or less unenthused except for an eyebrow raise. The 'Styled and Profiled' Award. Something between Best Dressed and Most Pulled Together, in the corporate sense. At least, that's what they said it meant. "The glassware company for the awards should just sponsor you at this point. Damn. What is this, your third time getting this? Fourth?"

"Seventh," Lyanna lifelessly corrected, pushing the phone away, "not that it matters." Considering how many times Lyanna earned it, with her reputation, it was probably neither in reality. "Your look is way better than mine. This was probably a brownnosing move, trying to be hyperaware of the culture or whatever."

Melanie chuckled at first at her snide remarks, until she reviewed exactly what Lyanna had said. With every word, she found more and more wrong with her perspective. Was she self-deprecating? Did she genuinely think she was right? What the fuck did she mean by them being 'hyper-aware' of her when no one other than them two knew why someone would even have to be? Melanie retracted her phone and sat in her seat, waiting for any clarifications, but none came, leaving her to ponder for herself with a stony stare. Unfortunately, as much as she tried to do otherwise, only unsavory ideas came to mind. For Lyanna's sake, Melanie hoped, if they turned out to be true, they weren't due to—

"Excuse me, Ms. Paulson, if I may..." Before Melanie had a chance to rebuke, question, or instantly judge her friend's suspicious commentary, the driver felt the need to interject. Luckily for all involved, it had no faults and raised the subconscious heating mood. "...I think you look great."

Lyanna's brows raised at the compliment, and Melanie joined her in shock, though she was more impressed as his bravery in speaking out of turn. He didn't realize that meaning upon looking back at them, seeing their expressions. He figured they were from him only recognizing one of them as opposed to both, and thus he made an addendum.

"N-Not that you don't, too, Ms. Moore," he nervously saved his hide, spouting a just-as-shy smile. "I just—Uh... you both probably earned it, okay?"

Lyanna's face stayed blank, but the driver immediately blushed at the sound of a tip being sent to his phone. Looking behind him to Lyanna's left, Melanie wore a grin of her own as her phone confirmed a scanned QR code and a quick transfer of payment.

"You're already paying him when he hasn't even signed on, yet?" Lyanna inquired, shooting the driver a smug look before turning toward the window... and cringing again at the mongrelized mania of it all. "But, hey, at least you have a good eye on you, wanting to represent the company with people that actually wear our stuff."

The redness on said subject's face instantly flushed back to his natural pallor. From a distance, there was nothing that discerned his uniform from that of any other worker at the Center of Colors. In fact, his pants and polo combo were exactly the same as any other's. But each soul was allowed a few extra freedoms employees had via accessories, body modifying, etc., and he did take part in that. As subtle as he tried to be in doing so, there were sprinkles of a certain brand down his person.

There was no way for them to go unnoticed by their head designers...especially with their owner catching them in his arms as a first impression.

"Uh, yeah," Melanie replied matter-of-factly. "He obviously knows how to read a room, er, van... and speaking of..." Going restless, once again, Melanie relocated to her seat's edge, setting a hand on the driver's chair back. "Hey, uh, I don't think you actually introduced yourself. What did your code say? Bryan? Bradley?"

"Br-Brenden, actually," the driver corrected, at least relinquishing anonymity. "I can't believe you noticed my gear."

He ran a hand across the small charm at the helix piercing on his left ear that matched a ring on his opposite hand, both pieces from a years-old collection. He would've twirled his feet and ankles around, too, showing off their extremely new shoes, both in age and ownership, but driving kept them still. The job correspondingly reminded him of a concern that was sure to get him penalized if he didn't address it soon.

"I also can't believe I haven't asked where I'm supposed to take you two," he chuckled, attempting to hide the ringing of his inner panic alarm. "Where did you have in mind? The Moonsong office?"

The ladies looked at each other briefly – Melanie slumping back again to face Lyanna head-on – to make a choice. The mistress of marketing implied, "I wouldn't mind heading there. It's not like we can do a late- or half-day tomorrow if we run super late doing random bullshit." A smirk briefly popped on Lyanna's mug. "Though," Melanie then countered, thus dropping said smile, "there were some, uh, biz things... I wanted to talk to you about."

"And, it's nothing you can't screen me at home?" Lyanna fought. By her tone alone, Melanie knew her idea had pancaked. "Mel, I love you, but I want to go home, sleep, and forget today."

The night had gone somewhat uncomfortably for them both, despite Lyanna's award, so she couldn't be blamed for not wanting to deal with anything anymore. But, Melanie shuddered, knowing how much more difficult things were going to become from it. She didn't want to make it worse, so she kept it to herself.

"A-Alright," she conceded. "I still want to head there. Your place in deeper inward, anyway, so I can get Brenden here to circle around and stop on by for a bit before going back to CC." A mutter of acceptance poked out of Lyanna before Melanie, at last, gave Brenden a destination. "Just head on over to T-Sa if you can, please. At least close enough to where Ly won't fall on her face if she'll need to walk."

The implication of inebriation was concerning, and the increased reference to some Moonsong deal was hyped as hell, but of all things to catch Brenden's attention, Lyanna's home was the showstopper. A fitting one but a surprise, nonetheless.

"You live at Sat Ave!?" he gasped, beaming through the rear-view mirror at her.

T-Sa. Sat Ave. Ten Saturn Avenue. One of the ritziest and private locales in all of Oswana, in spite of it being one of the most noticeable silhouettes in the lower Xesant skyline. Lower mutually in latitude and the height of its inhabitants. Only maho allowed. It was a sight to behold, but to Lyanna, it was the one place she could call her own. A fortress to be reckoned with. Literally.

"If you say anything," Lyanna hissed, jerking her eyes to Brendan's with a glower that could crack glass, "I will end you."

"Uh... I... N-Noted." Like the lapdog he was and now felt like, too, he complied, focusing back on the roads, pinning down the complex in his mental GPS, and heading on his way.

Melanie groaned at Lyanna's aggression, but rather than calling it out, she simply rolled her eyes and let it be. After all, from what it looked like, she had a long night ahead of her, and all of her energy should be saved for then. Well, most of it. The quietness that had encroached in the van quickly grew uncomfortable, leading to soft small talk between the driver and the fully-present passenger.

Lyanna let her eyes close, taking away the towering shadows and reverberations of titanic travel on all sides. The escapism, though brief, was blissful, opening opportunities to ponder plans for the upcoming week and beyond.

As they distanced themselves from downtown, the ratio of khadra decreased to nothing. The signs and sights of the borough where she burrowed on the daily shined to greet its golden girl. Through her slumber, it was easy to see her body adjust to its most familiar surroundings. Perfect tranquility... but it, unfortunately, had to end.

Brenden pulled into the drop-off lane of Ten Saturn Avenue, where a doorperson approached the van to help her out before halting and waiting outside her door, made aware of her still napping self. Melanie, risking a slapping fit her way, bit the bullet and rocked Lyanna back to the real world. Her waking softness resembled that of a baby; however, her too-old-for-this-shit sentimentalities soon broke through, along with the groan-inducing headaches that should've been here a long time ago.

"Welcome back, L.P.," Melanie greeted, thanking the gods for a passive awakening. "It's your stop."

A sequence of incoherent mumbles entered the airspace as the drowsy damsel attempted opening her door. The doorperson, seeing those multiple failures, eventually aided her exit, grabbing a hand then bracing around her back. Melanie, meanwhile, made out everything she was trying to say – a skill she had perfected after twenty years of tipsiness – amalgamating it all into a simple assurance,

"Nah, don't worry. You don't have to do anything. I've got this." Lyanna, even in her word salad of a mind, didn't feel too sure of that. But a quick kiss of valediction on the cheek sent her way made all those worries vanish and replaced them with giggling. "Now, get up there before you pass out."

More laughs ensued, but Lyanna eagerly obeyed, blowing a kiss back as her doorperson led her away. "Don't stay up too late, Mel!" she directed. "You, too, Brenden! None of us need eye bags."

Brenden, almost too in awe of the glamorous complex to catch her speaking, was surprised to be included in the farewell, even more so with a happy tone. Nonetheless, he appreciated it whole-heartedly, joining Melanie in waving her goodnight as she disappeared from view.

He took some time to calm from his high-fashion high before setting his course to Moonsong. However, before he drove off, Melanie locked him in place, reaching from the back to the steering wheel. He started to panic again, not even considering the presumably sweeter of the dynamic duo as a threat. The look on her face clearly showed a hidden craftiness that curdled his blood. Little did he know that none of it had to do with him.

No, actually, it slightly did. That cash drop Melanie made to him allowed for some new insight to reach her. He was more than qualified for plans she had had in the works for what felt like forever. His future modeling was only the tip of the iceberg, and she proved it by asking the last question along that path he ever expected to hear,

"Hey, Brenden, you had an order for alterations recently... but it wasn't for you, was it?"