#when your buddy is putting lipstick on you and you think wow he's REALLY focusing on my mouth that's totally normal right

[jankwritten]

love needs sacrifice (but it's sure worth the prize)

so we accidentally hijacked a post yesterday about Jason putting makeup on Nico and then @phthalomars drew this art and I couldn't resist the urge to write about it. I'll post the fic both below the cut and over on AO3 so you can read it wherever you'd like (if you'd like hehe).

It's about 1.8k, rated general, ship is Jasico but they're not actually together yet. Nothing triggering (though if you ask me to I will put a warning!) aside from a very brief mention to accidental injury while shaving. Hope you enjoy!

“And you’re sure it’s not going to stain?” 

Nico has to physically fight down an eyeroll at Jason’s insistence. You’d think he’d never seen lipstick before, gods, the nerves on this boy. “Even if it does, it’ll be fine. Just don’t get it on yourself, if you’re that worried about it.” 

“I-I just, you know, I don’t want you to be stuck with it. If- If I screw it up.” 

“You won’t screw it up.” It’s a simple fact. Jason has a steady hand, made so by the years of swordcraft - warcraft, really - that he’s endured. Nico would trust Jason to hold a blade over his throat and leave him without a knick, if he’s being honest. 

He shifts a bit, remembering the last time he accidentally cut himself when he shaved what little beard he ever manages to grow. Maybe he should do that, actually, ask Jason to help him not make a bloody mess out of his face every week. But- that is a question for later, since something so impermanent as lipstick already has Jason chewing on his mouth like Nico’s asked him to drink poison again. There’s a lot of trust between them, but it’s not trust Jason has in himself, yet. 

“If you’re really sure,” Jason finally sighs, and presses his hand against Nico’s cheek. He fixes his glasses with the back of his other hand, the wand of the lipstick held pen-like between his fingers. It’s endearing. Nico’s sure he’ll adjust to a more comfortable grip once he gets started. 

He lets his mouth fall slightly open, like Will always tells him to whenever he’s tapped to help with this. Nico tries not to tense up, keeping his face relaxed even as Jason’s chilly fingers glide over a sensitive part just under his jaw, tilting his head up. It’s easier than it would’ve been two years ago. He’s trusted Jason with much more than his face before. 

There was a quest, not too many months ago, wherein Jason dangled him over a cliff’s edge, to trick their enemy into believing he’d turned his back on Nico, that he’d let him fall to his death in order to save his own skin. Nico remembers hovering just out of sight, Jason’s currents keeping him tucked neatly against the stone mountain face, clutching himself in tight, desperately not thinking about how unpleasant it would be to die if Jason’s concentration slipped. He remembers holding his own heart, desperately, when it tried to climb out of his throat, listening to Jason monologue about never being good enough, about never being accepted, until the moment was right that he yanked Nico back up and ambushed their enemy. 

They had a lot to talk about on their trek back to camp after that one. 

Their spoils of war had been a beautiful bronze shield, which Jason had originally held up between them like the physical barrier might keep Nico from asking him if he’d really believed any of that stuff he said, their first night after the fight. Jason was the one who told Nico that as long as he loved himself, it didn’t matter if the people at camp thought he was good enough or accepted him, after all. The monologue had felt real. Jason was also the one who taught him that talking about his feelings was important. 

That was what cracked him open, actually - Nico relaying everything Jason had painstakingly taught him since he was fourteen years old, until the hypocrisy of it had Jason laying the shield flat before the fire and hugging himself, instead. 

It was a good conversation, even if Nico felt like it came a year or two too late. He’s just happy that it happened at all. 

The first brush of cool liquid on his lips startles him back out of the warm fuzzy memory, his shoulders tensing up uncomfortably fast. 

It’s always odd when he doesn’t expect it, when the makeup applicator isn’t guided by his own clumsy hand - it’s always like a knee-jerk reaction to twitch away from the initial slimy feeling. Jason’s palm keeps him steady, though, tightening like he can feel Nico’s attempted recoil. 

“Sorry,” Jason murmurs, though it’s obvious his concentration is turned to max - he sounds distant, low and soft like it’s more of an afterthought to apologize than his first instinct. Nico doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to move his mouth now that Jason’s in the zone. 

The rest of the makeup Jason’s helped him with has today been flawless: his eyeliner is perfect and precise, equal on both sides in a way that Will didn’t even get on his first try, his eyebrows masterfully arched in the way that he’s loved every since Drew put it on him at the campfire however many years ago, his face covered in blush so heavy it almost looks like sunburn (a style that he actually really loves, even though it drags attention to his cheeks and his nose. It makes him feel cute, and that’s the whole point). Jason even drew a dainty little heart, right on the tip of his nose, with a liquid highlighter in shimmery white-blue, two confident, swift strokes that they laughed about not even ten minutes ago.  

He’s honestly not sure why the lips are what got into Jason’s head. He’s trying not to think about why, actually. Actively pushing it out of his mind. 

Jason swipes the wand across the left half of Nico’s lower lip. His hair tickles against Nico’s browbone. 

Nico hadn’t even noticed Jason getting that close, though now that he has it’s- hard to tune out Jason’s mouth is set into a firm line, his eyes battlefield-intense on his handiwork like if he even so much as blinks, he’ll ruin it. His glasses are slipping back down his nose. It doesn’t seem like he notices. 

Nico tries to distract himself from staring, trying to zone out on the fine hairs of Jason’s eyebrows (Piper plucks them for him) or the pores on his forehead, but his gaze inevitably sinks to Jason’s eyes, again and again. It’s hard not to be drawn into the cliche electricity of them, what can he say. They glow, not unlike Percy’s when he’s standing on the beach, like there’s some kind of backlit nature to them, like there’s something not quite human trying to beat against the supposed window to his soul.

 Blue feels too simplistic of a color for it, when Jason’s all intense like this - cerulean, maybe. Aegean. Spruce. Maybe it’s all three at once, even, shifting in the same way the clouds do, the way the sky does when it fades from evening to the golden time, blue time, to dusk. 

Jason’s eyes flicker, darting as they chart the path of Nico’s lips. 

He tries not to shift, but he’s overly warm all of a sudden, wearing a borrowed Camp Jupiter hoodie and jeans and socks with Jason’s warm palm against his pulse. They’re so close Nico half worries Jason can smell his breath or something. He definitely can. He can’t really close his mouth, though, or else he’ll ruin Jason’s work and concentration, and that feels like too much of a betrayal even though his tongue is suddenly dry and he can’t quite swallow. 

The delicate swab of the lipstick brushes over the final quadrant of his mouth, painstakingly dipping against the inner corner of his lip, gently touching up the peaks that form his Cupid’s bow, going over details and crevices with that same fucking perfectionists touch that Jason goes over his temple dioramas, or a plan of action to propose to the senate of New Rome. Jason tilts Nico’s head back down, his palm shifting ever so slightly, eyes narrowing. 

Nico holds his breath as Jason leans in closer. His eyes widen. What is he doing? 

“There,” Jason whispers after he brushes one of his fingernails, adorned with powder blue polish, against what must’ve been the tiniest flaw on Nico’s bottom lip. He doesn’t move backward. “I think you’re good.” 

Nico still can’t quite catch his breath, even as he closes his lips and presses them together, adjusting to the newly tacky feeling that will dry down in a minute. He watches Jason watch him. He watches Jason blink. He watches Jason meet his eyes. 

That damn cliche gets him again; he feels like he’s being electrocuted, like his body is stuck frozen holding on to something that’s killing him, unable to let go because every muscle is locked up tense with a thousand volts coursing everywhere all at once. Jason doesn’t fix his glasses even as they fall right onto the tip of his nose, barely holding on. His mouth falls slightly open, this time. 

Nico loves him so much it’s frying him alive. 

“Thank you,” he makes himself say in a voice ten times steadier than he feels. Jason tilts backward all of a sudden and fixes his glasses and puts the lipstick away, freeing Nico from the livewire. He averts his eyes over to the only window in the cabin, on the wall opposite the door, staring out at the garden he keeps for Persephone out back because it’s so much easier to look at right now. He gulps a couple of times, trying to wash moisture back into his tongue. Gods. “Where’d the mirror go?” He needs to look at himself instead of Jason, needs to reverse the intensity of whatever he’s just admitted to himself. Of course he loves Jason, Jason is his best friend, he loves him in the same way he loves Annabeth, the same way he loves Reyna, or Leo. Of course he feels it all in the exact same, pit-deep, knee-jerk, spine-snapping way. Duh. It’s all the same. It has to be. 

Jason hands him the skull-shaped handheld mirror Piper got him for his seventeenth birthday. Nico stares into it without really seeing himself, only his bright cherry flush underneath the inauthentic pink Jason painstakingly color matched to look soft on his skin, the too-wide set of his eyes. The width of his pupils. 

“It looks great, Jason,” he compliments without once glancing down at his own lips. He lowers the mirror and understands why Jason kept the shield between them on that quest. He pulls his knees all the way up to his chest and hugs them, ignoring the way the hole in the knee of his jeans pulls painfully on his skin. He can only meet Jason’s eyes for half-second increments. He can still see his own face reflected there. 

Jason exhales like he meant to laugh but forgot the muscles for it. His shoulders sink. “You’re welcome, Nico,” he says. His voice is soft, not at all the one he uses when they’re around other people, the one that leads armies and wins wars. This one is a follower. “I’m always happy to help.” 

A sick little ache in his chest convinces Nico that that tone sounds like I love you too. 

But he’s got his own shield between them still. 

For now, it’s just the makeup. 

[snickletastic]

Interrupted {Jason Todd x Reader}

warnings~ cursing, mostly fluffy i think

request~  Jason reluctantly goes with his wife to her high school reunion, They see her old friends and have the unfortunate chance of running into her cheating ex and the mean girl he cheated on her with. They try to start shit with the reader who just takes it in stride before thanking them. But she's not living in the past anymore and introduces them to Jason much to the bully couple's jealousy.

a/n~ i ended up having a whole lot of fun with this one, but of course encountered some awkward moments during it. i think it goes pretty smoothly, but there are some bumpy parts that im sure youll notice. i hope you guys like it :)

___________________

“I just know that this is gonna be great,” you murmured while leaning over the counter to get near to the mirror so you could get a closer look at your lipstick application. 

Jason let out a quiet groan as he buttoned his shirt, “I’m going for the food. You know that, right?”

“Yeah baby, I know,” You shut the tube of lipstick and turned to your husband, who was rolling up the sleeves of his button up. “You should wear these shirts more often, you look adorable.”

“Adorable? I was hoping for something along the lines of sexy,” Jason mocked, “maybe dashing? Absolutely fetching?”

You ignored his complaining and fixed his tie for him. “I need you to be serious tonight...or at least a little serious,” you focused on pulling the tie through the hoop, “I really want this to go well.”

“Can you believe it’s been ten years since you graduated? Feelin’ old yet?” Jason teased while watching you fasten his tie.

“Don’t you start,” you lightheartedly threatened him, “You’re a year older, anyways.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“You’re a moron,” you rolled your eyes.

“I know you ar-”

“Quit that, you man-child!”

“Fine,” Jason stepped back and admired you, “You’re looking sexy tonight.”

You blushed, “Than-”

“For an oldie,” Jason teased again, “Sorry. Okay. I promise. I’m done now.”

“Can we go now, or are there any other jokes you wanna make?”

Jason considered quips for a moment, looking thoughtful. “No, I’m pretty sure I’m done.” You sighed in relief and began walking out the door. “Don’t forget your walker, babe,” Jason called out while watching you leave.

_____________________

The banquet hall of the upscale Gotham hotel was filled with hundreds of familiar faces. You graduated from Gotham City High School, so your class had about 1,000 students or so due to how overpopulated the city is. Why? You could never figure it out. Why is Gotham so populated when there is a new psychopathic murderer every other week? A man dressed in a batsuit defending the city? A running theme of poison being dropped from blimps flying over? Who knows. Maybe it’s the charm.

Jason never had the chance to graduate, because, well, he died. You were worried that he’d be uncomfortable at the reunion, him being reminded of things he missed out on. But you were also hopeful that this would give him the chance to experience things he never got to. Now here you stood, watching your husband down 3 crab cakes all at once.  There was nothing you could do other than stand there and stare in disbelief; not at his immaturity, but at the size his throat must be to be able to eat so much at once. “Huh,” you wondered aloud.

Leaving your husband at the buffet, you wandered off to the center of socialization in the room hoping to find some old friends. You met with some old buddies, sharing information about your lives nowadays. The most interesting part of the reunion thus far was the people who seemed to be background characters in highschool; npc’s. It was amazing to see people you disregarded along the way without trying to; whether it was the girl who sat behind you in biology or the guy you’d make awkward eye contact with in the halls every now and then, you’d forgotten that they were living people, too. Now the boy who swallowed an eraser back in sophomore year was a doctor. The girl who got bullied for being a nerd was a renowned writer. Straying away towards the walls, watching people interact, you stood with a glass of soda in deep thoughts. 

Until you got interrupted.

“Y/n? Is that really you?” an obnoxiously high voice approached you. Turning, you saw the most dreadful glimpse of the night; your ex-boyfriend, Blake, and on his right arm, the girl he cheated on you with in senior year, Kennedy. You could already feel yourself turning nauseous from the sight.

“Wow! It is her!” Blake jeered.

“Hey,” you tried to say pleasantly, but it came out as more of a cry for help.

“I saw you standing over here all alone, staring at everyone having all this fun- I figured you needed some company!” Kennedy taunted in her grating voice.

“Actually, I-”

“No need to explain yourself, snookie bear,” Blake smirked. You could feel your back tense at the pet name he used to call you even though you told him how much you hated it. “We just wanted to tell you that Kennedy and I,” Blake squeezed his partners waist, “Are getting married next weekend in Bel-Air!” Kennedy squealed and held out her hand, displaying her big diamond ring.

“Um, congratulations guys. That’s great. I didn’t expect either of you to last this long. As a matter of fact, I thought I heard that the two of you broke up a few years ago,” You smiled at them, mockingly. There were rumours that he had cheated on her with her sister. 

“We moved past that,” Kennedy’s smile faded, “Now we are happy together. That’s all that matters.”

“Hey, three’s company,” You shrugged and took a sip of your soda, “I have to g-” You were interrupted by an arm slipping around your waist, and the sudden appearance of a body emerging next to you. Jason. You looked back to the distasteful couple in front of you, and there was nothing you wished for more in that moment than a camera. Jason towered over Blake, and even Kennedy, who was in heels. He casted a shadow over their boastful attitudes, too.

“Hi,” Jason waved at them.

“Who’s this?” Blake’s demeanor changed immediately.

“This is my husband, Jason. Jason, this is Blake and Kennedy,” you introduced everybody to each other. Jason must have remembered their names from your stories, because his face dropped the moment you said them.

Blake sheepishly held out his hand towards Jason, who seemed to contemplate accepting it or not. He did though, and he certainly asserted his dominance by clutching Blake’s hand so hard that you could hear something crack. He finally let go, and Blake softly whimpered and held his hand, clearly in pain. 

His fiance ignored him, though. “Why, I didn’t realize you were married,” Kennedy held out her right hand, putting her left one, with the ring, behind her back. Jason graciously accepted the handshake, “Nice to meet you. I like your eyes, the blue really stands out.” Kennedy blushed at the compliment and flashed a smile. “The shade of them doesn’t help you look any less dead inside, though,” Jason quipped and let go of her hand.

“My husband and I have to go now,” you broke the awkward silence, “It’s been so great seeing the two of you again. I hope you find happiness with your new wife- and her sister.”

You held onto Jason’s arm and walked away. “Do you wanna dance?” Jason asked, trying to ease your apprehension.

“Not really, I just wanna go home now,” You shrugged.

“Fair enough,” Jason said before stopping at the buffet table again, stuffing some hors d’oeuvres into his pants pockets. 

“You can’t possibly be serious,” you shook your head and smiled at his foolishness.

“One thing I learned on the streets is that you always take free food no matter what. I’m not passing up these fancy ass snacks.”

_________

Later on, you sat on the couch with Jason while watching television. He pulled shrimp out of his pocket and munched on it unwittingly. Earlier he offered you a fancy cheese from his left pocket, but you declined. 

Now you were just bummed out that the reunion ended up being a letdown, and Jason took notice. He just wasn’t sure how to go about making you feel better other than offering you pocket cheese. 

You laid and admired his features as he ate another shrimp, and then watched as his eyes flickered. You knew that face. He had an idea. He grabbed the remote and turned the T.V. to one of those strange music channels that played romantic piano. Then, he got up and held his hand out to you, “May I have this dance?” he bowed to you.

“Huh?”

“Just go with it,” he exhaled.

“Okay,” you took his hand and he pulled you up.

He awkwardly rested one hand on the small of your back and held the other one out dramatically, like a ballroom dancer. “Trust me, I’m a professional,” he beamed.

The two of you did a dreadful ballroom dance in the middle of the living room, in your pajamas. It was so much better than the reunion had been. All that was there were things of the past, but all that matters now is fooling around with the guy you love to the sound of uncopyrighted music on the T.V.

masterlist

[bittysvalentines]

from @parrishsrubberplant to @rhysiana Happy belated Valentine's Day!

The man’s plain white t-shirt does wonderful things for his chest. And arms. And abs.

“Wow,” Brittany whispers to Jen.

Brittany says ‘wow’ about a customer eleven times a day. Jen is a good friend who looks every time.

“Wow,” Jen dutifully agrees. She can’t argue with Brittany about men. She’s a lesbian so Brittany automatically disregards her opinion. But her vision is fine, and this dude is jacked. He’s at least six feet tall, with a swoop of perfectly styled brown hair and sky-blue eyes.

She expects him to walk on by, to menswear or shoes or whatever. Then Jen will listen to twenty minutes of Brittany sighing over him.

Instead, Tall and Handsome stops. He hesitates and then heads over to the makeup counter.

Brittany blushes under her makeup and shoots Jen a look that is equal parts panic and glee. Jen rolls her eyes.

“Hi,” Jen says. “Can we help you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “I’m looking for eyeliner?”

He doesn’t look like the type of guy who would wear guyliner. Eyeliner, Jen corrects herself. If he wanted guyliner, he would have asked for guyliner. Don’t make assumptions about people.

“Any particular brand?” Jen can hear Brittany having a heart attack behind her.

“Um.” He reaches into the back pocket of his tight jeans, and hands her a tube. “Something like this?”

The black tube has worn silver lettering. Jen turns the tube in her hands, looking at the faded hieroglyphs that might have once been a ‘W’ and an ‘S’.

“It’s discontinued,” he says. “I was hoping you might have some left.”

Brittany finally recovers. “Um, that’s the WorldStar Mega Vanta, right?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. She’s never wrong about brands. It’s like her secret super power.

“I can check in the back, but I don’t think we have any.” Brittany looks at Jen. “Or, Jen can.” She smiles at him.

Tall and Handsome tips his head down, and angles his chin, his blue eyes disappointed. He angles his body towards her, cutting Brittany out of the conversation. If she were straight, she’d swoon.

“Do you know of anything like it?” He says.

Brittany folds her arms and leaves to check the back, her shoulders held in a stiff line.

Jen frowns. “I really don’t. That was the brand that was like, a liquid marker but it applied like a pencil, right? It sucks they stopped making it.”

He nods. “I’ve got one more tube left. I’m hoping maybe I can try some stuff and find something like it.”

“Excuse me?”

Jen freezes. Goth Girl steps out from behind Tall and Handsome.

Where is Brittany when Jen needs her?

Goth Girl is adorable, and she comes to the makeup counter every week. Jen’s tiny gay heart cannot handle the glory that is Goth Girl. She’s short, with curly black hair and perfect makeup. The wings of her eyeliner end in points sharp enough to stab. Today, she’s wearing a lacy black shirt and combat boots. Jen cannot.

Tall and Handsome--Jen almost thinks she recognizes him--shifts to include Goth Girl in their conversation.

“You were talking about WorldStar Mega, right?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says.

“I have a friend who makes stuff,” Goth Girl says. “They have an Etsy store. If you wanted, I could give you their store name. It isn’t a perfect match, but their black eyeliner is a lot like the Vanta if you just make a thick enough line.”

He already has his phone out. “Could you? That would be amazing.”

Goth Girl tells him the name, and Jen writes it down for herself on the back of a discarded receipt. She likes the WorldStar eyeliners too. Tall and Handsome has good taste.

“Thank you,” he says, and holds his hand out to Goth Girl. “I’m Gabriel.”

Goth Girl takes his hand. “Julissa.”

She looks like she has a firm handshake.

He turns, smiling, to Jen. “Gabriel.”

She gestures to her nametag and waves awkwardly. “I’m Jen.”  Lovesick Jen, trying desperately not to stare at Julissa.

Julissa walks away to look at the display of lotions on sale.

Gabriel smiles at Jen. He’s missing a front tooth. “Do you work on commision?” he says. “I’d feel bad if I don’t at least buy something from you.”

“That’s...really sweet of you,” Jen says. She’s never had a customer ask that before. “We don’t.”

“Well, you’ve been really nice and helpful,” he says. “I should buy something.”

“Well, do you have a girlfriend?” Jen asks. She thinks of Brittany, who hasn’t come back yet. She may have just decided to take her break early. Or she’s still dying of embarrassment. Jen knows Goth Girl’s name now; she can do Brittany a solid.

He shakes his head. “My tea--my friends’ partners are really into these travel eyeshadow pallets?”

She takes him to a display of dull gold-colored eyeshadow cases. “These?”

He checks the name. “Yeah.” He peers at the descriptions. “Martine has...light brown skin, so this one would probably look best with her. And Yudita is very pale, so I think this one, and…”

He picks out eye shadow for at least six different women. Jen tries not to let her eyes bug out. This brand of eyeshadow is not cheap. She carries the pile to the register.

“Your buddies aren’t going to care that you bought their partners stuff?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. And--hey, I just thought of this. Can you ring them up separate? That way I can include the receipts so they can return them if they want to.”

What, Jen thinks. I’ve fallen through a portal to another dimension and not realized it. Or another planet. Who is this man?

She rings him up six times. Tall and Handsome smiles one last time at her and leaves. Jen wishes she did work on commission. She would have just made a killing.

And now Julissa is standing at the register.

“Hey,” Jen says. Her voice creaks.

Julissa smiles. She looks down at the counter, then back up at Jen. She looks shy. Her eyes dart to the back door where Brittany disappeared, over to a display of lip glosses, and back to Jen.

“Just this,” Julissa says. It’s a tube of berry purple lipstick, made by one of the brands that lasts forever and stays on through any kind of mischief.

After Julissa signs her receipt she hesitates. “Can I give you my number?”

Jen goes red. “Yeah.”

The corner of Julissa’s mouth curls up in a wicked grin. She pushes the receipt back towards Jen. Below her signature is ten digits. Jen catches herself smiling back.

*           *           *

Ari does not understand.

They fell asleep yesterday after spending hours packing orders, receipts, business cards, and sparkly star stickers into envelopes. They were really looking forward to taking day off. Maybe going for a walk in the park, feeling the sunlight on their skin. Something like that.

Instead, their inbox appears to have exploded.

They stare at the computer screen in disbelief. They have forty-five new orders.

“I need coffee,” Ari tells their cat. Marmot blinks slowly. Ari blinks slowly back.

They fill the electric kettle, spoon coffee grounds into the French press, and stare blankly at their phone. They have a lot of text messages.

Ari sends a quick text to Julissa. I think I might not be able to meet up today. Sorry. They pour the hot water into the French press and set the timer for three minutes. Then they turn to their messages.

They open the thread from Julissa and scroll back. I’m so sorry, Julissa wrote. I think this is my fault. I told someone about your eyeliner and… There’s a link to an instagram page. Ari opens the link.

It’s the Insta of someone named Gabriel “Snowy” Snöröken, who is dark-haired and Nordic and beautiful--and an NHL goalie for the Providence Falconers.

Okay, Ari thinks, but what does this have to do with me?

Ari finds the answer as he scrolls through ‘Snowy’s’ posts. One post is a selfie. Snowy focuses on the upper part of his face, head tipped forward. His eyes appear closed. He sports thick lines of black eyeliner.

Goalie superstitions! The caption reads. I freaked out when WorldStar stopped making Mega Vanta. But I think I found something better. Shutout last night. Thanks, @AriSparkles!

He includes a link to Ari’s Etsy store.

Oh.

Ari barely hears the timer going off. They pour coffee, add creamer, take sip. It’s just on the right side of too bitter. Marmot brushes against their ankles, making them jump. Ari bends down and scratches Marmot behind the ear. The cat purrs.

“What am I going to do?” Ari asks Marmot. They don’t expect the cat to answer.

What Ari wants to do is yell at Snowy to take the post down. Ari does not need this stress in their life. Not when they’re navigating  suppliers, making sure all the ingredients are certified cruelty-free, and packaging and mailing everything themselves.

Marmot is absolutely wonderful, the best cat in the word, but Marmot doesn’t have opposable thumbs.

Ari drinks more coffee and checks their inbox again. They’ve gotten three more orders.

Without thinking much about it, they post a quick update on Insta. Thanks ‘Snowy’ for the shout-out! Glad you like our eyeliner. Friends, it’s just me here and with the recent spate of orders things may be a little slower than normal. Thanks for your patience and your business!

Ari’s hands are shaking as they put down the phone. They text Julissa: Help.

Even with Julissa pinch-hitting, it takes Ari almost all day to make it through the recent orders. And that’s just printing labels, sorting products, and counting out the sparkly stickers.

“Hey,” Julissa says.

It takes Ari too long to look up.

“Yeah?”

“Have you thought of just asking Snowy to take down the link?”

Ari grabs Marmot and pulls the cat onto their lap. “No.”

“Why not?” Julissa grabs the two empty mugs and heads for the kitchen. She comes back with a mug full of cold water for Ari.

“I couldn’t,” Ari says. “He’d think I’m an ungrateful brat.”

“Well, then,” Julissa says, and pulls out her phone.

“What are you doing--no, don’t!” Ari lunges. Julissa leans back, pulling the phone out of their reach. “C’mon, Juli, please--” Ari gets their hands on Julissa’s phone and pulls it away from her.

Ari looks at the phone and laughs. “Oooh, Mall Girl. You’ve been texting Mall Girl?”

Julissa hits them. “Why are you like this?”

“You love me,” Ari says. “But seriously, Mall Girl? If you have her number, don’t you know her name?”

“Jen,” Julissa mutters. Ari’s distracted by laughing again, and Julissa takes advantage of their distraction to pull the phone out of their hands. “I’m doing it,” she says.

 “No,” Ari whines.

 “Bro,” Julissa says. “ It has been one day. You are super stressed, and you are only going to get more stressed, and then the semester is going to start. I would rather you feel temporarily embarrassed than be in trouble a month out.”

Ari covers their face with their hands.

“I’ll send it from my Insta,” Julissa says. “Since I actually met him.”

Ari groans incoherently.

“Done,” Julissa says a minute later.

“It went through?”

“No, it sent as a request.”

“Bro,” Ari groans. “He probably gets like, hundreds of requests a day. I have looked at his Insta. He’s a professional athlete with the body of a god.”

“So we’ll make scrambled eggs, and watch terrible TV, and wait,” Julissa says.

“And you’ll tell me what’s going on with Jen,” Ari says. “I mean, Mall Girl.”

Julissa smacks them.

*           *           *

Julissa left an hour ago. Ari checks their phone one last time before bed.

They have a DM from Snowy. Hello! Julissa says I stressed you out. Sorry!

Ari resists the urge to roll over and scream into their cat. No worries, Ari writes back. No worries, ha, Ari is literally full of worries.

Can I make it up to you? Are you a hockey fan?

Ari looks around for Marmot. The cat perches on the arm of the sofa, front paws tucked under her. “What do you think?” Ari asks their cat. Marmot blinks.

Yes, Ari writes back.

I really like your store, Snowy says. How did you start doing that?

It’s kind of a long story. Ari thinks about suggesting it’s a story better told in person, but they aren’t a puck bunny.

Ari puts the phone down and scritches the top of Marmot’s head. When they pick the phone back up there’s one more message: I’d love to hear it, if you’re free some time.