#a literal jaw dropper on my day

[daintyzerose]

looked at my notes and saw a blog ive been lurking has REBLOGGED MY POST T-T

[the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep]

Alchemy 410, Chapter 3: Solute Meets Solvent

Summary: Illyth Arabana and Gale Dekarios can’t be in the same room without wanting to throttle each other. Can they survive being lab partners in their fourth year alchemy class?

RATING: M

PAIRING: Gale/OC

TAGS: Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Pre-Canon, Gale Dekarios in University; Lab Partners; Eventual Smut; Slow Burn; Height Differences

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

A/N: I love these kids so much. It’s literally the two “well AKSHULLY” people trying to out-“well AKSHULLY” each other. They’re warming up to each other a little more now.

“An experiment must be repeated thrice,” Gale said confidently. “For certainty.”

Illyth shot him a look but said nothing. They were in the same research methodologies lecture last term and experimental data collection was one of Illyth’s better skills.

They were alone in Gale’s dorm room, a space that was cleaner than the average twenty-one-year-old man’s living quarters, but disarrayed. Scrolls, books, and half-melted candles littered the room. His bed was more or less made, but covered in documents on translating abyssal and elvish languages. Illyth imagined that Gale’s living space was a physical correlate to the richness of his inner life.

Illyth held up a piece of parchment upon which she’d made a meticulous data collection sheet. There were three sections for each experimental trial along with dedicated space to detail the concentrations of solute and solvent.

Gale nodded approvingly at Illyth’s work, appreciating the straightness of her lines, the small but neat script in which she wrote. He then turned his attention to the mortars and pestles dedicated to each constituent ingredient. It would be easy enough for them to each conjure a mage hand to grind the ingredients for two of the mortars and pestles, but one would still need to be ground by hand.

In near-perfect unison, both Gale and Illyth summoned mage hands, both of which immediately began to work at two of the three mortars. Illyth couldn’t help but chuckle at how they’d managed to simultaneously summon mage hands, as if on cue.

Illyth took the remaining mortar and pestle containing the eyestalk and began to twist the pestle into it. “What’s our solvent, anyway?” she asked, not looking up from her work.

Gale hummed thoughtfully. “Given the nature of the solutes, I would assume we’re using weavemoss concentrate, which we will need to dilute with water.”

Illyth nodded. That was hardly a conclusion she could come to on her own. “Alchemy isn’t my strength,” she admitted sheepishly, loathe though she was to volunteer that to Gale.

“Not everyone is meant to be good at everything. Unless they’re me, of course, but I’m something of an anomaly.”

Good at everything, of course, Illyth thought bitterly. Must be so nice.

Gale shrugged and reached for the bottle of weavemoss concentrate he’d taken from the alchemy lab earlier that day. He summoned a small dropper bottle of water. With a painstaking degree of precision, Gale carefully meted out single drops of water into the flask to create a perfectly diluted solvent.

Illyth grunted softly as she continued to grind the eyestalk. It needed to be a grainy powder before it could be used as a solute. Her biceps flexed as she twisted the pestle into the mortar, crushing the dried beholder appendage.

Gale watched Illyth from the corner of his eye. His attention was primarily fixed on the solute he created, but every time she uttered a tiny grunt of effort, his deep brown eyes flicked up toward her. Her lips were pursed, jaw clenched, brows knitted. Her thick white hair was tied behind her in a low bun that was already threatening to give way, even though Illyth only pulled her hair back a matter of moments ago. There was a strange beauty in her intensity, one he hadn’t noticed before.

“You’re staring,” Illyth remarked evenly without looking up at Gale. “Need something?”

Gale recoiled and shook his head. “N-no, of course not. I was only ensuring that you were grinding the eyestalk to an adequate consistency. If the consistency is not exactly as it should be, then it shall not dissolve.”

“Hm,” Illyth grunted as she continued to strike the pestle against the mortar. Her grip on the stone pestle faltered as her hands began to fatigue.

“Here.” Gale reached for the mortar. “Allow me to demonstrate a more efficient method.”

Illyth thought to protest for a moment, but relented and handed Gale the heavy stone bowl.

“It is far more efficient to twist the pestle thrice in one direction and then thrice in the other,” he explained, moving closer to Illyth to allow her a better view.

The drow woman hummed in acknowledgment. His method was far more efficient than hers and, in all likelihood, would allow for a better end product.

“You’re from the Underdark,” Gale began, looking up at Illyth as he twisted the pestle. “Why are you at Blackstaff when you could be attending Sorcere? Of course, there is precious little doubt that Blackstaff is the superior institution, but why would you come all the way up here?”

Illyth considered her words before she spoke. The answer was complicated to say the least. “My family left Menzoberranzan when I was a child. I was born there, but I am not considered a proper citizen of the Underdark.” Not anymore, that is.

“My parents and sister are in Skullport now,” she continued. “Blackstaff was closer, I suppose.”

That was far from the whole story and Illyth could tell that Gale was perceiving that on some level. Illyth sighed inwardly when Gale didn’t press the topic further.

Nobody simply leaves Menzoberranzan to live in Skullport, Gale thought. Skullport was on the border of the Undermountain beneath Waterdeep and the outskirts of the Underdark. It was known as the Port of Shadows, a settlement of pirate lords, criminals, and desolate shanties. If ever there was a diametric foil to Waterdeep, it was Skullport. There was no reason that Gale could conjure as to why anyone, especially a family of drow with two daughters, would live in such a place of their own accord.

Yet, if there was one thing that Gale Dekarios knew about Illyth Arabana, she was a proud woman who carried herself with an unparalleled intensity. Perhaps, that intensity was a shield of sorts; something that protected her.

“And you grew up here,” Illyth said.

Gale nodded proudly. “Indeed, I did. I could scarcely be more proud of that if I tried.”

Illyth snorted softly. “Was it always your dream to be here, at Blackstaff?”

“Always. From the moment magic became my lifeblood at a tender age, this was where I was meant to be. I received early admission on scholarship, naturally.”

Illyth thought better of making a snide remark. “Your parents must be proud, then.”

A chill rippled through Gale’s body, one so profound that Illyth could sense it.

Gale cleared his throat. “Oh, yes. Certainly. Mother was pleased as punch. That’s for sure.”

This time, it was Illyth’s turn to recognize that something else was bubbling below the surface of Gale’s story. His dad isn’t around, she deduced. It’s a tender spot of his.

“I think she may also have been relieved that she didn’t have to keep up with fireproofing the house,” Gale joked. “An errant firebolt or an accidentally summoned lava mephit will wreak more havoc than could be imagined.”

“Sounds like it’s you that wreaks havoc,” Illyth smirked. She’d turned her attention to the laboratory instrumentation, carefully arranging glassware to establish a titration set-up. Since they would need to write a tutorial on how to create the draught of truth, they would need exact measurements of exactly how much of each ingredient to combine with the others in order to neutralize the solution for humanoid consumption.

“Shut up,” Gale chuckled, though he wouldn’t deny that Illyth’s wit amused him, even when it was directed at him.

“You’ll have to pay me to keep my mouth shut,” Illyth returned. “And that’ll cost you a pretty copper or two. Per hour.”

“Gods, you drive a hard bargain,” Gale groaned.

“But could you manage to survive without my witticisms? My keen observational humor?”

“Your snide remarks and verbal jabs?” Gale added. “Those I could perhaps do without.”

Illyth smirked. “You enjoy it. I know you do.”

Gale rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath. “As I recall, you haven’t taken upper level classes in the School of Divination to detect my thoughts on the matter. Even if you did, I could forge a mental bulwark against such an invasion.”

“I would assume you probably slept through those classes anyway,” Illyth retorted. “I don’t need divination spells to know that.”

“A wizard needs his rest!”

“A wizard also needs to stop snoring in class.”

Gale pursed his lips, but failed to stifle a laugh. “Alright, alright. That was… Gods, that was well-played.”

In the time they spent bantering back and forth, their mage hands had long since finished their work and disappeared back into the Weave.

“And that should do it,” Gale murmured as he finished grinding the eyestalk. He sighed contentedly and set the mortar alongside the others.

He scanned Illyth’s titration set-up, muttering under his breath as he made some tweaks to the arrangement of glassware.

“Excellent,” he remarked, satisfied with his fine-tuning.

Illyth allowed a soft smile to play on her lips. “Yeah, looks good.”

If Gale would have glanced over at her, he would’ve noticed that Illyth wasn’t referring to the instrumentation.

[justaduckarts]

Latest chapter theories (Because I'm impatient and this chapter has my mind shaking) So??? Sun??? Bad??? Well that seems to be obviously what that last JAW DROPPER of a cliffhanger line seemed to be implying, but that scene with a younger Sun and that mysterious book? Seriously has me thinking that Sun is either brainwashed/under the control whoever was in the book, or being seriously manipulated. Also, like 90% sure the book is William (I say 90 because last chapter I was debating if Sun and Eclipse's father was still alive). And should the book be good ol' Willy, I'm willing the friend who 'betrayed' him was Henry. Also the little world building info at the beginning?? I thought that was what I was going to do a quick theory over, but now I have SO MUCH MORE AGGHHH (Positive!!). So lesser gods are born of flesh but of higher power than humans and potentially of higher power than Higher gods, and higher gods have star fragments... Wouldn't Star Holder be somewhere in-between? They were born of flesh yet hold a power no other mortal has, even a power no god seems to have considering the gods all want their hands on them; Eclipse needed them to heal Julian, and Sun and Moon just... are doing their thing. So technically speaking she's a lesser god, but then she has the star fragment! So maybe an inbetween? I mean it may have been mentioned and I just missed it, but Pluto, Sun, Moon and Eclipse all had parents. They were all created somehow, so were their star fragments passed down onto them like how Star Holder's was passed from Pluto to them?? (Thinking back on it I remember Pluto talking about her mentor and the whole star thing so-) Star Holder is a greater god not clickbait??? Either way I am SCREAMING this chapter was so good!! Sorry for the lil rant your fic just has me in a chokehold vghjk (OH OTHER IDEA!! I forgot to include this in my whole section about Sun, but maybe he actually wants to control Eclipse to protect him?? Idk, Sun just seemed like he really used to care about his brother when he was younger, and it seems a bit weird that he hates him now. Maybe he is actually against the entity from the book, and the book is trying to get a hold of Eclipse?? Maybe Sun was the one who killed Luna, trying to frame Eclipse to lock him away and thereby protecting him from the evil entity... Or maybe he is Bad and framed Eclipse because he wants him gone who knows BECAUSE I SURE DON'T) Loved the update!!! Your stories always have me theorizing and second guessing myself, and I love it!! Days Of Laughs always had me doing that, but I was a little nervous spouting off in the comments, but you deserve to know how much you make me think!! Always checking the character notes at the end of each chapter!! ANWAYS RANT ACTUALLY OVER NOW HAVE A GREAT DAY!!!

Hello!

Waaaah sorry it took so long to get to this ask iofhrwo;fqwnf

Sun bad? What WAS going on with that book? :0 Who would be trapped in a book like that? What's with the rabbit symbolism? :)

As for the star fragments and the greater gods- It's been mentioned but not quite explained that a greater god will pass their star fragment onto their heir. This is how greater gods are made, their predecessor quite literally removes their own star fragment! The process is very slow and as the child grows and matures, they will absorb their parent's magic until eventually the previous greater god passes and the new one assumes their role. Greater gods can have plain old flesh and blood children and these kids usually become lesser gods (a lot of lesser gods are distant relatives of greater gods, like Elusia and Nova). But the star fragment is a big deal.

Also, I want to put this idea into the universe. The greater gods are carrying star fragments. The Star Holder is carrying a whole star. Not a piece. Think about that. :)

As for why Sun wants to control Eclipse? Well, we'll get there <3

Thank you so much! This ask was so fun to read and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA love all the theories, I love all the speculations ghuireleqh <3 <3 <3 I'm so so glad you're enjoying the story!

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Stealing the Billionaire by S.M. West

6ix Loves #4

 Splendidly satisfying happy-making way to spend the day ~ LOVED it!

 What I liked:

* Eden: intelligent, independent, strong, resourceful, good friend, creative, open, communicates her feelings, rather taken with Walker

* Walker: brilliant, wealthy, divorced, father, strong, good friend, protective, has trust issues, grows through the story, rather taken with Eden

* Alex: Walker’s son and a delightful addition to the story

* The meet cute was terrific and played well into the title of the book

* That Eden wasn’t a pushover or willing to take less than she deserved both in her professional and personal life

* The supporting characters: Tom, August, Suki, Lou and some that perhaps were in the previous books of the series

* That this was a standalone story and well worth reading – didn’t feel lost but wouldn’t mind reading the previous books in the future

* The plot, pacing, setting, and writing

* That I was invested in the story, felt I knew the characters, and was rooting for a happy outcome while also wanting the baddies to be exposed and dealt with

* All of it really except…

 What I didn’t like: * Who and what I was meant not to like

* Thinking about how much damage thieves do to those they steal from

 Did I like this book? Yes

Would I read more in this series/ by this author? Definitely

 Thank you to the author for the ARC – This is my honest review.

 5 Stars

      BLURB

 Broody billionaire Walker Drummond is way out of my league, but that’s easily forgotten when I literally fall at his feet—on my behind, my dress hiked to my hips—staring up at his irritatingly handsome face. I’m a reluctant thief, and he should be off-limits, but underneath his hard exterior lies an adoring father and caring man. And the real jaw-dropper? He’s interested in me. None of this should matter since he has no use for relationships. And despite the magnetism of his unwavering confidence and arresting blue eyes, I don’t do flings. We’re at a stalemate. Which is for the best. Until surprisingly, he abandons his hard line on casual for me. Blame it on lust or maybe it’s something more when I cast caution aside to be with him. Still, I don’t belong in his world. Nor do I know how to play the game. The thing with games? Only one person wins. While Walker keeps his heart safely guarded, convinced I’ll steal it, I’m the one who stands to lose it all.

[anothermansjeans]

hey hey bubby!!! congrats on 400, you're such an amazing writer and i am honestly in awe of it — cANNOT BELIEVE i almost missed your celebration! can i pls have🎵 ❤ 💌 🎥 + gone girl :)

omg thank you!!! <3333

🎵: i’ll make a personalized playlist just for you!

okay, i will admit that i stalked your blog to get a vibe from you sjdjdn and i came up with “oh no i think i might fall”! it’s a playlist with some of my all time favorite songs having to do with falling in love <3

❤️: i’ll share one of my favorite quotes!

“I may be a senior, but so what? I’m still hot.” — Betty White (i literally love her omg and i want that energy when i’m old 😭)

💌: a handwritten letter from me to you!

omg india, hi!!! firstly, thank you so much.you’re literally the sweetest ❤️ secondly, i feel like we never interact and i’m going to change that now because you seem like such a sweet and genuine person with a kind soul! i’m also taking this time to warn you that i will be spamming you by binge reading your entire masterlist (seriously, all of your work seems extremely interesting and i cant wait!)

i hope you have an amazing day/night ❤️

— anne-marie

🎥: send the emoji + a movie and i’ll rate it/give a review!

spoilers for gone girl below the cut :) (i’m sorry i wrote a whole essay omg)

Oh man, okay so I had to watch it for the first time (because i suck and haven’t seen a lot of movies), and let me just say I am… speechless?

I’m going to start with the casting because it felt perfect? Normally when I watch movies I can picture different actors portraying the roles, but it was literally spot on with the movie. I also think the acting and script overall was really well done! The screenwriters did really well and there weren’t any moments in the script where I felt like it was awkward or where a line was unwarranted? Which is pretty rare because there are always moments in TV or Movies where they just… miss the mark.

I am also extremely happy to say that there were many jaw dropping moments. At first I was a little shocked by the monologue at the beginning saying how he would like to “bash his wife’s head” or something along those lines, and then I was like “...oh she’s dead… so it is him”, but then I got to the point where he just seemed too innocent and I was 100% convinced Nick was innocent-- and then the first jaw dropper happened… the affair.

I was like, very shocked by that for some reason. I think because of the build up of the perfect relationship they had at the beginning, it just didn’t seem like he’d do that, and then everything turned around for me again by that point because if he did cheat, then would he kill her? And I was fully convinced he did it up until they showed she was alive!

Like… SHE WAS ALIVE???? Dskjfsdkjfs I swear that was my second jaw dropper and I was on Amy’s side there for a bit because yeah, fuck liars and cheaters, but I quickly had yet another jaw dropping moment when they uncovered her true self. I swear you’re going to see me say “jaw dropping” so many times because again my mouth was WIDE OPEN when she killed Desi because wow… like I knew she was most likely framing him but it all happened so quickly and just… damn sjdhdskjfhds

I would also like to say that the directing choice from the first shot of Amy to the last is also amazing-- I love when the end is actually the beginning in movies (idk if that made sense lmao).

I honestly loved the movie! Thrillers and Mysteries are my favorite genres so I think that definitely helped with me actually enjoying it, and I did watch A Simple Favor earlier last year for the first time, and I loved that movie so I think this should’ve been a given that I would love this!

Also-- Margo is literally the best. I love her omg

So overall I would give this a 9/10! I have a short attention span so it was the 2 hour and 30 minutes that brought it down a bit!

400 celebration

[jmeddows2]

Purple Thunder (Roger Taylor Series) - Part 3

(present/old) Roger Taylor x  Reader

Notes: Sorry for grammar mistakes/ weird sentence structures. English is not my first language but anyways, I gave it a go. Enjoy and feel free to submit requests, feedback etc. So there’s loads of dialogue.. sorry for that??

Words: 1822

Part 1 Part 2

Part 3:

“Wtf, dad? “ Lola‘s voice filled Roger‘s apartment in Kensington, as he was sat on his huge black leather couch, watching her pace around. “What‘s wrong, honey?“ “Don‘t 'honey' me Paps. What‘s going on between you and Y/N? I’ve seen pictures!" “Nothing‘s going on. She came down to Surrey to talk music and I gave her a ride home. You’re overreacting, honey!" "I know when you‘re lying, Paps! I can see the way you’re looking at her, you used to look at mum just the same way! Dad, you’re never this affectionate, not even in public. Hell, you don‘t even properly hold Sarina‘s hand. And now this? That‘s disgusting! She could be my sister! She could be your daughter! You‘re 50 years older than her, goddamn!!!“

 Lola was now shouting at her dad, letting anger take over. Roger just sat there in silence. Listening carefully to his daughter, knowing that everything is true. Every single word. But why did he feel guilty about it? Nothing‘s happened anyway. That‘s what helped Lola calm down. Nothing‘s happened anyway. That‘s what Roger told himself when he was tossing and turning in his bed late at night, thinking about one thing only. 

 But something’s happened, deep inside of him.

But it was wrong. So wrong. His heart began to speed up just thinking about the previous day. Reminiscing. Reminiscing how your face lit up when you discovered his drum skins in the studio, or when you had heard his new song. Your sparkling eyes, getting wider and wider during the tour through his house.

You, sitting by the lake with a stern look on your face, scribbling down some lyrics. When your eyes met his, he felt it. There was an exciting feeling, deep inside of him. But he tried to shrug it off - without success.

  One look on the clock. 2 am. He couldn‘t get himself to sleep, so he decided to go for a walk. Down by the Thames on a bench was his secret hideaway spot. Roger first discovered it after he got into a heated argument with Tim Staffel, his former Smile band mate.

He found himself in that peaceful spot quite often, even when Queen started to take off, to just get some air. Arguments happened to literally be on the daily Queen agenda during those times. It‘d been a while since he had actually been here, but nothing had changed.

The night was quiet and peaceful as the moon lit up the river Thames. Slight sounds of traffic could be heard from the city. As he got closer to his secret spot, he noticed that the bench was already occupied. Roger was not sure if he should approach the bench anyway, despite not knowing if this person was a serial killer or something like that. (LOL, jk guys be careful though!)

As he got closer and closer this person looked even more familiar to him.

 “Y/N? What are you doing here?” You flinched when you saw a man approach you, until you recognized his figure. 

 “Roger?? Ahh, just couldn’t sleep. I could ask you the exact same thing” you answered as he plunged himself next to you on the bench. You sat there in silence for a few minutes, until he decided to speak up again, looking directly into yours eyes:

“Will you now tell me what’s really going on?” he put his arm around your shoulder, wiping away a few of your tears. He felt it again this incredible warmth and completeness.

 Yes. You’ve been crying. After a heated argument with Josh, you stormed out of your flat. In situations like these, your past self would have already been drugged down, drunk and fooling around with a hot stranger. But not this time.

 “Everything’s alright Roger, seriously” wiping away a few new tears. “Look, I get it if you don’t want to talk. Especially to me, but if I can help you out… You know I’m here for you, love. C’mere, at least take my coat you’re freezing”, with that he handed you his coat and even through protest, he insisted on you to take it. Being all snuggled up into his coat made you feel safe in this cold night. Surrounded by Roger’s warmth. The coat smelled just like him, heavenly.

“Now you‘re freezing, I feel so guilty“ you snuggled closer into his side. ”Love, don‘t worry I‘m more than alright like this“ wrapping his arms tighter around you. His cheeky smile made you laugh.

“You know, I used to come down here every so often when I was younger. Guess my secret spot is not much of a secret anymore.” he laughed. “You remind me a lot of my younger self. Carefree, not really giving hoot about what others think.” He was probably implying your various drug encounters and one night stands. He must have done his homework on you then, reading the daily papers. Roger was also not so innocent in the past, living life the fullest. You’d done your homework on him, considering these terms as well.

 “Those were some crazy times. I’m sure you’d have enjoyed it, it was unbelievable, really. You’d not believe my stories if I told them to you, love. You would have been a perfect fit.” “You think so?” The 70’s had always been your favorite time period, whether it was in relation to music or the lifestyle.  

“100% sure, love. I would have gone crazy to have such a beautiful girl like you on my arm and we would have done some bonkers shit.” The thought of being with Roger in the 70′s made your heart flutter. “YOU think that I‘m beautiful?“ “Obviously, love. But you most certainly don‘t need me to tell you that.“ his smile fell.

Oh right. Josh. Your boyfriend.

  "How about some tea, love? “ You could never get tired of him calling you pet names, even though it made you blush every single time. Agreeing to tea, he led you to his Kensington flat which was again very breathtaking.

Luxurious interior. Marble. Leather. You always dreamed of such a home. Not saying that your flat was packed with a bunch of old stuff. It‘s just different. Well, maybe because he had so much more money and actually could afford a place like this. Who would‘ve thought that winning a Grammy wouldn’t guarantee you unlimited money and stardom?

 Sitting on the counter, you watched Roger pour the tea from the kettle into 2 cups. “Sugar? Cream? “ “1 cube of sugar and a splash of cream, please“ “Another thing we have in common then“ he smiled at you with shining blue eyes. “And the other things in common would be? “ you asked curiously. “I don‘t know, love“ he answered “being absolutely smashing musicians, amazingly talented and wandering around Hyde Park at 2.30 in the morning, maybe?“ You now both burst into laughter when suddenly everything turned quiet again, sipping on tea. 

  “I rushed off. Didn‘t feel like arguing. Got me into some serious shit in the past“ “Huh?" “You asked me what‘s really going on earlier. Josh and me....had an argument. I had to blow off some steam and didn‘t really want to stay with him tonight" “Is it because of the paparazzi pictures? Everyone seems to freak out about them and I don’t even know why. You have a boyfriend, I have a wife. Nothing happened anyway.” Wife. It stung a little. But he was telling the truth.

“Anyway, what‘d you want to do, love? Stay on the bench in the freezing cold in your little outfit?“ Looking down on yourself you were still dressed in ripped jeans and a white bralette. “Yeah. Partly because of the pictures. No, I could get a hotel room. I should go now actually. Don’t want to bother you more than I already have and I’m also verrrryyy tired. Thanks for the tea and company, Roger. You definitely made my night“

As you made your way back to the front Roger hesitated but was quick to speak up again: “Why don’t you just stay here?”

Everything was quiet again. You didn’t know what to say.

“There’s no way I’m going to let you go out there alone at this time in the freezing cold. You could uhh, sleep in one if the guest rooms if you want? So.. uhh.. you don’t have to look around for a hotel…”

“Roger, I don’t want to bother you-“ “Stay.”

 You agreed to stay in his flat. Before settling into the room, he handed you a shirt of his to sleep in and wished you good night by hugging you and giving you a peck on the cheek. 

His shirt was baggy around you and reached your mid thighs. It smelled like him. Suddenly, inspiration struck you again as you reached for the notebook, that you always kept in your bag.

It was your lyric notebook, as you flipped through the pages, you finally landed on the lyrics you had written down at Roger’s home by the lake in Surrey. -Surrey-

Sitting on the sea Soaking up the sun

 A jaw dropper Looks good when he walks Is the subject of their talk He would be hard to chase But good to catch

 …. was already written on the page…. and you decided to add some more…

  With eyes that make you melt He lends his coat for shelter Plus he's there for you When he shouldn't be

 …. before you fell sleep clutching your notebook in your right hand…

  A loud bang woke you up. 5 am.  “Where is she, where did you keep her? I know she must be here somewhere” A unknown female voice filled the flat, full of anger and betrayal.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sarina.” “Y/N of course! I should’ve known you can’t keep in your pants, Roger. Especially when some young slag opens her legs wide for you to shag. That’s so typical of you.”

You listened closely; tears started to form in your eyes. A slag. That’s what the papers said. But you had changed. Did you change? You tried so hard to be a better person, to improve. To prove them wrong. You didn’t even do anything wrong. Or did you? After quick consideration, you decided to change into your own clothing again, to sneak out of the window. Thank god there was a fire escape.

 The walk home seemed to take ages. It was still early, so no one recognized you walking the streets looking like a mess.

  At the same time, Roger could convince his wife, that no one was in the flat with him, still she decided to spend the rest of the night elsewhere. As Roger wanted to check in with you, the room was empty. He totally understood your actions, it saved him a lot of trouble, but still hoped you would have stayed.

As he was about to leave the room, he spotted something in the middle of the bed. It was a little notebook. Your notebook.

taglist:

[thedeaditeslayer]

Bruce Campbell exclusive on reboot of Ripley’s Believe It or Not! for Travel Channel.

Fan favorite actor Bruce Campbell is executive producer and host of the reboot of Travel Channel’s new series Ripley’s Believe It or Not!

Filmed inside Ripley’s warehouse, each segment is a thorough concise look at unique individuals who blow people’s minds with their gifts. It runs the gamut from physical exceptionalism to flat-out death-defying deeds. Steering this eye-candy-licious ship is Campbell.

Over the film and television career of actor Bruce Campbell, we have loved his take on horror roles (Ash Williams in The Evil Dead franchise), perfectly honed dramatic characters (President Ronald Reagan on Fargo), and most recently as the critically acclaimed developer Gary Green in a three-episode arc on AMC’s Lodge 49.

Of course, Burn Notice fans loved him as Sam Axe, and legions of Starz’ Ash vs. Evil Dead fans are bereft over Ash’s recent cancellation and demise there.

This latest venture for Campbell sees him entering the production side of TV as well, and his instincts are dead-on accurate for what reality TV watchers want, well crafted true stories with no wasted frames, lots of heart, and plenty of jaw-dropping reveals.

We screened the premiere episode and were completely riveted to the tales.

Ohio native Rick Smith flicks playing cards at lethal speeds while dreadlocked Dai Andrews can swallow curved swords and live to talk about it. Tyler Scheuer takes it on the chin — literally — as he balances heavy odd objects.

Toronto native “Twisty” Troy James is a handsome contortionist who has worked in many TV shows (FX The Strain, CW’s The Flash) and movie roles, with his mentor Roberto Campanella referring to him as a “natural talent” and a “walking talking natural effect.”

The 10-episode, hour-long series is inspired by Robert Ripley’s love of the extraordinary in humanity, and Campbell is a good steward of this. We spoke to Campbell by phone yesterday for a fascinating interview:

Monsters & Critics: I’m incredibly jealous of you.

Bruce Campbell: Why is that?

M&C: Well, the Ripley’s Warehouse. You got to work in it… and poke around.

Bruce Campbell: Oh yes… I’ll never tell. I’ll never tell the secrets that I saw.

M&C: But what was the standout item that was a jaw-dropper for you?

Bruce Campbell: Well they always rotate displays. They had a [President Donald] Trump in the foyer. They had a life-size Trump. So I got a thumbs-up picture with that. So I’ve had a picture taken with a president.

They also had a life-size replica of the tallest guy ever. And when they do that, that’s different than a photograph. And they have all these great craftsmen that work in the warehouse doing prosthetics and doing these life-size replicas of things. And when you see that life-size of the tallest man ever, you go, “How does anyone get that big?” It really puts it in perspective.

So stuff like that was cool. I’m a sucker for enormous, oversized objects.

M&C: I think I saw that in the background on the premiere episode…

Bruce Campbell: Oh yeah, it’s hard to hide that guy.

M&C:  I love that you’re serving as host, but you’re also wearing the executive producer hat. I’m sure someone like yourself, with a bazillion fans from every level, gets pitched a million things. Who contacted you? I know that you were aware of Ripley’s and you liked it as a kid…

Bruce Campbell: Oh, of course. Things come across your desk. They tracked down my agent, and then he throws it at you and you either ignore it or say yes, or no, or maybe.

And Ripley’s, soon as they said that, I’m like, “Okay, I’ve heard of that.” And, “Who’s it for?” “Travel Channel.” “Okay, I’ve heard of that.” So they were two for two, and that’s helpful.

I knew Ripley’s and I was fascinated by a lot of that stuff anyway. I felt it’s a pretty good fit for the Evil Dead crowd because we’re basically talking about people who live on the edge … these people who push it.

So it’s pretty good. It felt right. And the Travel Channel … it’s not your father’s Travel Channel anymore. So it’s a good fit for Travel Channel because they’re doing all these crazy, creep investigations now and stuff. I think it fits it right in.

M&C: Dovetailing on what you said earlier, I think we’re all fascinated with the human body. So much good, bad and otherworldly can happen in the human form; and afflictions, to gifts, talents.

Bruce Campbell: To DNA glitches.

M&C: Yes, exactly. And I think that that’s an interesting thing that the show… we don’t have “the freak show” anymore… but Ripley’s show, you’re kind of bringing back a Victorian freak show but in a much more humane and cerebral context...

Bruce Campbell: Well we don’t use the F-word anymore. We don’t, not in our Ripley world. Because you’ve got your ordinary people, and that’s you and me and our neighbor.

These people really are the extraordinary, beyond ordinary. What we’re doing is, we’re celebrating it. And my job as a producer… My input was tone.

So that you’re celebrating people who’ve overcome challenges; they are achieving great achievements just through tenacity and practice and focus. And a lot of life lessons in here. So the takeaway is very positive.

If it’s different from any other incarnation, it would be that — that people are not on parade.

Now granted, [there’s] no shortage of eye candy. There’s going to be a lot that’s going to make your eyes pop out. But in context, we want you to get to know these people, to understand, and in some cases respect their decisions.

M&C: Right. Each segment was really well-rounded for the time beat that it was, and you gave really good backstory. And it showed how people were prospering and making great livings, and absolutely celebrating their uniqueness. I like that you do that.

Bruce Campbell: It’s an incredibly dense hour. It’s a small hour. It’s like six or seven stories per hour. It’s crazy.

M&C: Yes. The first episode, Rick Smith with the flying lethal playing cards…The fact that he could lethally dismember someone’s finger…

Bruce Campbell: Yeah. He’ll kill you!  At a press conference, he could kill you. He could kill you at a press conference. By the way, we’re going to try to drag some of these folks to conventions.

Because I told them, I said, “Look, this is what I do. You’ve got to…” How many boring movie panels have you witnessed, you know? Oh, it was very hot that day. Yes, my suit didn’t fit right. And we thought that was funny. “No, let’s get a panel of Ripley’s participants. I’ll give you a panel.” So we’re going to San Diego Comic-Con. We have a panel coming on, that Saturday.

M&C: You know it’s going to be standing-room-only. People are going to be hanging from the rafters…

Bruce Campbell: Well, it’s the right fit for that crowd too. And look, this is not Marvel. This is real, folks. These are real superheroes, for the most part.

M&C: When you look at your career, characters like Ash Williams, and Sam Axe… and then you’ve done very serious stuff in Fargo, and you had a great part in Lodge 49, which is a fun series. What kind of roles do you enjoy the most?

Bruce Campbell: Just mix it up. I think the fun is mixing it up. Because from Detroit, my hometown, as a factory worker you would hope that they had a thing called “job rotation.”

You’re putting tires on one week; next week, they move you to fenders; next week, you’re putting windows in. So you don’t go crazy. Because there’s a lot of rinse-repeat, in what we do. Television is done in a formulaic style, for the most part, at a certain speed, certain pace. And you have to kind of fold in, and get used to that.

But over the years, it’s been fun to also to exploit opportunities when they come up. Take something that is a little more out of the box. I’m doing Peter and the Wolf in front of my local orchestra, at the Britt Festival, here in Jacksonville, Oregon, this summer. And I’m all giddy about it.

I’m like, “Okay, yeah. Let’s do something with an orchestra.” So I’m going to narrate Peter and the Wolf.  It is fun to actually live where you live. To participate. Because you can go hide, that’s pretty easy. But nice thing is, where I live, my neighbors… they could so give a crap about who I am or what I’ve done.

A neighbor… the week I moved in, he was a rancher across the street… he comes up the driveway. He goes, “I understand you’re a cowboy in a TV show.” I said, “Yes sir, I was.” He goes, “You know how to ride?” I said, “I think so.” He goes, “You want to help me run a hundred head of cattle up the road on Saturday?” I’m like, “Yeah, if you’ve got a horse.” “Yeah, I’ve got a horse.” I’m like, “Okay.”

So I met him on a Saturday. Met all the neighbors. We helped him run a hundred head of cattle up the road. And, there you go. I was a member of the neighborhood.

What’s nice is, you can actually just get out. As an actor, you actually don’t have to hide. Some actors spend way too much time hiding.  I hide in plain sight. I’m behind you at the post office. I’m the guy with the cat hair all over his jacket.

M&C: Switching gears. So obviously I’ve trolled your Twitter feed. I’m looking for MK11 clues like everyone else…

Bruce Campbell: Oh, it’s gotten out of hand. It’s gotten completely out of hand. Here’s the absolute truth of it all: I’m a bad liar. So, here’s the truth of it.

There is an Evil Dead game that’s coming out. And it’s a fully immersive game. It’s going to be very intense. And we hope to be absolutely mind-blowing, like some new game.

But in the meantime what happens is, Evil Dead’s been reintroduced. Ash vs Evil Dead sort of made it relevant again. And there’s a lot of requests just to have Ash pop up, like a guest star, in a movie, or on a TV show. Have him pop up and do some crap.

So Dead by Daylight was pretty much that. Pop up, do a thing. But people thought that (a) I was a liar that, “Oh, I thought you were retiring Ash.” And then (b) that, “Oh, I guess Ash is now in this game,” like he was a fully immersed player.

And we started to see the ads for it like that. We were like, “Ahh, don’t misconstrue this.” I’m just popping in literally, saying like a dozen lines. Like, “Hey, come on baby,” or whatever. And he may pop up in other games.

M&C: Yes. Well, Mortal Kombat 11 (MK11). That’s where all the chatter is landing.

Bruce Campbell: It is.

M&C: And?

Bruce Campbell: Sure. Well, I would have to say that I can’t say anything officially. They have alluded to it because there’s a little chainsaw revving at the end when they allude to new characters. So there’s nothing I can say, but I can say that Ash has popped up in other games. And if he does pop up in this one, it’ll be in the same fashion.

It would be like a blink-don’t-miss it or load him for a quick little run at this, you know?

We’re saving full Ash. Full Ash is coming. We hope that this is just a warm-up, honestly. We’re actually doing it because… We’re saying it’s okay to do because it’s just sort of whetting people’s appetite for playing a game as Ash, which can be fun.

He’s a big trash talker. And he’s one of the few flawed heroes. He’s like you. He’s like your neighbor being a hero. It’s like you being a hero, just you putting a chainsaw on your arm. That’s what I think is cool.

M&C: It’s like giving a monkey a razor blade. Not a good idea.

Bruce Campbell: (laughs) Totally! Exactly. That’s dangerous. Give him a switchblade. That’s a better image. Like he pops it out, “Let’s go. Let’s rumble.”

M&C:  Right. Your fans are something. Do the men meltdown easier than the women when they meet you in person? When I read interviews by fanboys who can’t hide it, it’s kind of cringey.

Bruce Campbell: It was mostly fanboys. My wife was always, “You have fun on your tours, with your fanboys.” Because she knew there was going to be no hotel-room keys being thrown my way because the demographics were like 90% guys.

And I’ve watched it go to 75-25. And now it’s basically 50-50, as far as fandom. And I’m saying that across the board, not just for me per se. Fandom is out of the closet. Geeks are out of the closest. The industry is currently run by geeks. It’s all good. It’s just, everything’s out of the closet now.

Our proof of our love of entertainment is out of the closet now. There’s more conventions than there ever have been, by 10 times. And the amount of TV that we actually binge is 10 times than we thought we were binging. It’s amazing.

M&C:  To me, Ripley’s is almost like a history lesson, but time-traveling into the modern day…new stories…

Bruce Campbell: Well it’s seeing humans… What can the human body do? Question mark. What can it do? And this show answers some of those questions, in an amazing way. Blind kid just wants to ride his bicycle, just like another kid. Right?

He learns to echo-locate like a bat. Because bats fly around and go “click click,” little clicks, and it bounces off of the objects that they’re flying around. They can know how far away it is. Kid saw a bat do that. He was like, “Wait a second. I’m going to do that.”

So he starts clicking and bouncing sound off of buildings, and even trees. He knows how close they are, alleyways. And dog on it if he doesn’t learn how to ride a bike. And he gets so good at it, he’s teaching other blind kids how to do it so they can just ride a frickin’ bike. What a great story, what a great story.

Everything has to be a car accident, you know? These are really… I’d say 92% of our stories are uplifting.

M&C: Well I like you’re producing ethos. I hope you produce more interesting television, because boy, we sure could use it.

Bruce Campbell: Well I think you can have interesting and entertaining, and uplifting, at the same time, without even trying to be uplifting. If you pick the right subject matter, it is its own story. So these people are amazing. I hope the world can meet a lot of these people. I can’t wait to meet them. I haven’t met them.

M&C: Wow. Comic-Con. That’s going to be amazing. You’re going to be on a panel with them.

Bruce Campbell: Oh, yeah. It’ll be the first time for a lot of these people.

M&C: You’re known as a character actor, with these leading-man good looks, and you’ve aged really well. By the way, you look amazing. Whoever’s styling you and doing your hair, and suiting you up for the show gets an A. You look terrific.

Bruce Campbell: I’ll pass the word along.

M&C: No, you really do. You’re like the opposite of [Burn Notice] Sam Axe. You’re a sharp-dressed man as ZZ Top says. But who’s your favorite character actor?

Bruce Campbell: Jack Carson.

M&C: Who? Jack Carson?

Bruce Campbell: Yep, and that’s exactly… The response that you had is the one that I always get. “Who?”

But Jack Carson is your neighbor, he’s a cab driver, he’s the bartender. He plays a lot of the same characters, but he’s sort of the everyman. And he’s a guy that, you see him in a movie and you go, “Oh, that guy. I like that guy.” He’s not the steak. He’s the sizzle.

So that’s fun. There’s definitely guys that I look up to and go, “Who is that guy?” Because the guy had a great… worked forever.

[acklest]

Threesome, Party of Two

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Dean Winchester

Genre/Warnings: Wincest, One shot, Outsider POV, Top!Dean (implied), Bottom!Sam (implied), alcohol use, cursing. Nothing is truly all that smutty.

Words: 6,668

Summary: Whitney Evans meets two very charming and attractive FBI agents at a bar. Dean is intent on taking her home with both of them, but Sam clearly has some reservations. Fortunately for them, she’s a problem-solver by trade, and there’s definitely something up with these two.

Author’s Note: Inspired by an idea from @jbt111886 - thank you! Sorry Not sorry for all the gratuitous movie references. This was mostly an excuse for an outsider POV and some brotherly er, partnerly bickering. I’m hoping that if I officially post this, I’ll be less likely to delete it altogether.

✯✯✯✯

She had no intention of checking anyone out tonight, but his hands caught her attention.

Whitney had a thing for hands and picking up on small details was literally her day job. It wasn’t something she had ever managed to turn off.

He was leaning against the bar right next to her. His left hand was in a semi-relaxed fist that forcefully staked his place at the bar, and his right was palm-down with cash under it. They were broad, rough, and freckled, and three of his knuckles were healing up from bad abrasions. When he absently played a drum solo with the right, she noticed a couple more bruised knuckles and that his nails were short and clean, but cut bluntly across and chewed around the cuticles. No rings on either hand. The matte black watch on his wrist was more special ops than stylish. 

The most intriguing part was that absolutely none of this matched the well-tailored sleeves of his suit, which was a tastefully muted blue-gray. A man with a suit like that should’ve had a manicure and a shiny watch, and a man with hands like that should’ve been in a biker bar with a jukebox, not a busy Irish bar in midtown with polished wood and delusions of grandeur.

Whitney almost turned to look but thought better of it. Nope, not here for that.

Then the pretty redheaded bartender leaned toward him, asking, “What can I get for… you?” That little hesitation should’ve been Whitney’s first warning. She had been here for an hour and a half, and had watched a half-dozen men flirt shamelessly with the bartender, and found her friendly but professional. But this guy, whoever he was, had gotten through.

Then he gave his order and Whitney was momentarily distracted by the sound of him. “I know it’s practically a felony to not order Guinness in a place like this, but I think that tap over there says Murphy’s Irish Stout on it.”

She grinned. “Sure does!”

The right hand flashed two fingers while she still was watching it. “Pints, please. Don’t go easy on the foam.”

The bartender seemed to twinkle up at him, Whitney’s second warning. “One of today’s specials is our bomber size, that’s our 22 ouncer for the same price as the pint.”

“Mmm. Hurt me, Riley,” he half-growled flirtatiously. She could hear his grin without seeing it. She also noted that in her time here, no one had bothered to learn Riley’s name, or if they had, hadn’t bothered to use it.

But his voice is what brought her up short at the moment. He spoke with a lazy, ambiguously accented drawl. His voice was low and rough, in that perfect Johnny Cash sweet spot between Barry White and Tom Waits. If he smoked, he certainly didn’t smell like it.

It was just one more thing that didn’t match the suit and Whitney finally gave in to curiosity and slightly turned to check him out.

Unfortunately, the stunned “oh” that played in her head was simulcast to her mouth.

Turning his head to glance down at her, his face softened from what she imagined was a resting smolder to a knowing half-smile that clearly stated, “I get that a lot.” But he seemed more pleased that she was pleased, rather than pleased with himself, which made the silent acknowledgement endearing rather than insufferable.

He was a few years older than Whitney and, though she was sitting down, seemed like he was about a head taller. In his suit, he looked kind of pleasantly solid all over, his thick torso balancing his broad shoulders. In American football, he’d be a running back, built for power and speed all at once.

Green-gold eyes appraised her with a not terribly subtle once-over. He had a well-defined jaw with maybe three days’ worth of stubble, a strong nose (ah, more freckles) that would’ve overpowered a lesser profile, and a generous, pouty mouth. With his dark hair in a frat boy cut swept up with product and a navy-blue foulard tie done up in a Prince Albert knot tucked neatly into his waistcoat, he was James Dean dressed up like Cary Grant and it shouldn’t have worked. At all.

Attractive men didn’t really impress her. Over the last few years, she had worked with hundreds of powerful, attractive men who wore even nicer suits than his, and had developed something of an immunity. But this guy had something else: Total, unabashed, panty-dropper confidence, earned through – if she dared to guess – years of rigorous study in the discipline. It radiated off of him in waves. She could almost guess that his first act had been to imagine her naked, and that his goal from that point on was to find out what made her tick.

He glanced down at her nearly empty glass. “Martini, huh? Can I get you another one?”

“Sure,” she managed a smile. “Thank you.”

His eyes lit up and he asked silkily. “Do you like ‘em dirty?”

That totally shouldn’t have worked, but he sold it through sheer audacity. She found herself almost as flustered as the time she met Gerard Butler at a party. Well, there was nothing she could do but play through the pain. “Yes, very,” she answered, then waited a couple of beats. “Wait, did you mean the martini?”

The smirk turned into a warm, appreciative smile, complete with the glimpse of teeth, that made little wrinkles fan out at the corners of his eyes. Okay, maybe the Cary Grant thing wasn’t entirely the suit.

He easily got Riley the bartender’s attention again. “Gin martini, stirred, extra dry, straight up, four olives, and —” He cut her a vaguely obscene sideways look. “Very dirty.”

“Wow.” Whitney was legitimately impressed.

She’d been right about the resting smolder, as he lapsed back into it while straightening a tie that didn’t need straightening. Just as she was starting to miss his big, open grin and all the crow’s feet that came with it, it snuck back across his face. “I overheard you orderin’ the first one. But, admit it, I almost had you.”

You had me well before that, she didn’t say. Besides, he clearly already knew, and it was a little late for her to play hard-to-get. Also, this meant he’d noticed her before she noticed him and since he continued to flirt with her, she liked her chances.

“Dean,” he told her, unprompted. Then, almost as an afterthought. “Gillan.”

“Whitney.” She mimicked his pause. “Evans.” 

As the bartender deposited a fresh martini in front of her, Whitney asked, “So, Dean Gillan, what it is you do that you wear such nice suits, but also look like you start fistfights for fun?”

Dean stepped back to examine his suit, hands spread defensively. “A man can’t dress up for a fistfight?”

She was still laughing at this when another man walked up and stood behind Dean, flashing her an apologetic smile. He wore a nice suit as well, in a somber charcoal gray. His tie, she noticed, was the red version of Dean’s blue one, done up in the same knot. 

This man was taller, broader across the shoulders but much narrower in the hips. His suit was cut to flatter both, and he seemed to wear his more comfortably. He had dark hair, too, but his was thick and collar-length and fell slightly into his face when he looked down. His deep-set eyes were either blue or hazel, or possibly neither, and he had a sharper side profile. 

She didn’t get the same dirty “down for anything” vibe from him that she got from Dean. At the moment, she was thankful for that. She didn’t think she could handle two of them. However, the hand that gripped his phone was big, his fingers longer, but with the same blunt nails. No ring on him, either.

With his earnest expression, all he needed was a pair of half-rimmed glasses and a tweed suit, and he’d be that college professor who didn’t understand why so many students sat in the front row. How was it that they hung on to his every word and were still failing the course? 

Without thinking, she asked faintly. “Are the hot guys traveling in pairs tonight?”

She glanced quickly at Dean, expecting him to bristle or look hurt since the two of them had been hitting it off. All he did was give her a small smile that she couldn’t quite interpret.

Dean turned to the other man and fixed part of his shirt collar that had fallen. He theatrically licked a finger and made a move toward the man’s hair, which was only narrowly avoided as he turned back to her with a smile. “Whitney, this is my partner, FBI Agent Sam Blackmore. Sam, Whitney Evans. She thinks you’re hot for some reason, so try to act like it.”

FBI agents. Now the suits and busted knuckles made a little more sense.

Sam briefly glared at his partner, a blink-and-miss sort of thing, before looking down at her to smile, revealing dimples in his cheeks. He turned back to Dean, showing him his phone. “Get this.” 

The two of them stood with their heads almost touching to peer at Sam’s phone, eyes tracking back and forth, Dean’s lips moving slightly. Then the two had the most truncated (and possibly most dude-like) conversation she had ever heard in her life.

Dean leaned in closer to scroll his index finger down the screen as their eyes tracked some more. Dean straightened to look at Sam. “What the hell?”

“I don’t know.”

“Seriously, what the hell?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, more insistently this time.

“And there were —?”

“Two.”

“They find ‘em both?”

Sam frowned. “Just one.”

Dean turned to Whitney for a moment, smiling apologetically. “Bureau business, sweetheart, don’t go anywhere.”

“Why?” Whitney asked playfully. “Am I being detained, Agents?”

This earned her a shy grin from Sam and a much more suggestive one from Dean.

Besides, two hot guys, and the one coming on strong was apparently secure enough that he didn’t mind that she thought the other one was hot, too? How often did that happen? Why on earth would she go anywhere?

Dean turned back to Sam, their conversation picking back up right where they left off. “If there’s only one —”

The two pulled back from the phone, processed something for a moment, then chorused, “Vernal equinox.”

Whitney laughed. “You guys have been working together too long.”

The two peered at her over the top of the phone and Sam smirked. “You have no idea.”

“When?” Dean asked him.

“Not until March,” Sam answered. “But then –” 

“The other thing.”

“Right.”

“And?”

“Well they —” Sam looked furtively at Whitney and seemed to select his next words carefully. “We probably won’t hear anything back until Friday.”

“Friday?” Dean brightened and happily braced Sam by the shoulders, giving him a firm little shake that made him roll his eyes. “You know what I’m gonna say next, right?”

“No idea,” Sam answered sarcastically. “But I’m guessing ‘something something pick this up tomorrow something something see you in the morning, Sam.’”

“Then you guess wrong.” Dean handed him one of the two big glasses of beer that were waiting next to him on the bar, before ducking his head to look the pretty bartender in the eye as he passed her a tip. “Thank you again, Riley.”

Whitney didn’t think it was the tip that made Riley straighten a bit and smile up at him.

“Why do you always do that?” Sam muttered as they turned away. “Give her a chance to finish her college education, Hef.”

Dean visibly balked at “Hef” but moved one hand palm-up under his chin and along the side of his head as if displaying a game show prize. “This is just my face, dude. It does what it does. I can’t control it.” He turned to look conspiratorially at Whitney, voice mock-mournful. “God knows I’ve tried.”

Whitney didn’t actually know which of them she liked better.

Sam ignored him and looked down at the beer in his hand. “Why’d you get me a beer if I’m just going back to the room?”

“’Cause you’re not going back to the room, you’re coming back to our table with me and Whitney.”

Whitney was as taken aback by this as Sam seemed to be. Not that she was complaining.

“C’mon,” Dean prodded gently, like he was trying to coax a pet back in from the outdoors. “You gotta sit for serious drinking, not as far to the floor.”

Sam shook his head, but followed them to the corner-most table in the back. Whitney noticed that Dean had a sort of hip-rolling strut. Because of course he did. She wondered if it was an affectation for her benefit.

The two both moved to pull a chair out for her, but Sam surrendered the right of way to Dean. After she was seated, Dean squeezed around her to the chair wedged directly in the corner facing the front doors, and turned it around to straddle it and rest his arms on the back. The suit now looked more incongruous than it had back at the bar. She found herself wondering what he wore when he was off-duty. Or maybe he had been a cop before a fed and hadn’t ever shaken it off?

Dean made an abrupt “put it away” gesture at some books and papers that were in Whitney’s place and Sam swept them into an open messenger bag before she could really get a look at any of it, though it didn’t seem like official research materials. Then again, if their case really involved the vernal equinox...

Sinking into his own chair, Sam watched Dean’s face intently.

“What?” Dean wiped at his mouth with his hand. “Do I have foam?”

“Uh... no. You... you got it.” Sam took a big swallow of the beer and leaned back in what she immediately recognized as feigned relaxation.

An attractive blonde server in her thirties stopped to ask them if they needed anything, and Dean jokingly gestured at Sam. “Can we get a double milk for this kid?”

As the server laughed and walked away, Whitney perked up. “Was that a quote from U.S. Marshals?”

Dean grinned. “I knew I liked you. See, Sammy, some people watch fun movies.”

Did he say Sammy? Hmm.

“Wait.” Sam blinked a couple of times. “Are you talking about the sequel to The Fugitive? That’s a terrible movie.” 

“Actually…” Dean paused to take an operatically prissy sip of his beer and raised his chin haughtily. “Since it doesn’t continue, expand, or resolve the story from The Fugitive, but instead moves existing characters to a new story, U.S. Marshals is not a sequel, but... a spin-off.” Dean gave Whitney a wink that should’ve come with some sort of warning and then smugly looked at Sam across the table.

His beer glass stopping halfway to his mouth, Sam asked, “Wait... was that... were you being me?”

Dean nodded his head with a smirk. “Huh? I nailed it, right?” He added, sotto voce to Whitney, “I’ve been practicing.”

Shaking his head as if disappointed in both of them, Sam’s thumbs moved quickly across his phone’s screen and then turned it around so they could see it. “Look, 26% on Rotten Tomatoes.”

“Yeah, you’re right, now I can never watch it again,” Dean said drily. “That’s a solid flick, man. You’ve got Tommy Lee Jones, RDJ, and that cute French chick who played Wesley Snipes’ girlfriend.”

“74% of the world isn’t as easily amused as you.” Sam winced at what he’d just said and looked at Whitney contritely. “Or... you. Sorry.”

Whitney shrugged, feeling like she was a supporting character in a buddy cop movie like Lethal Weapon. Dean probably liked that one. Sam probably pretended he didn’t.

“This kid looks up the reviews for dive bars before he’ll agree to go,” Dean told Whitney incredulously. “Dive bars. What’s the review gonna say? ‘I had seven beers, they were fine, I passed out on the pool table and no one drew a dick on my face, will recommend to my friends’?”

Sam glared. “What if they had a salmonella outbreak or rancid bathrooms? Wouldn’t you want to know in advance?”

“I’m with Sam on this one,” Whitney conceded. “I don’t want to end up at The Titty Twister.”

“First of all, I’ve spent my entire life looking for The Titty Twister like it was El Dorado.” Dean scowled at both of them, but rounded on Sam first. “Also, any respectable dive bar has a rancid bathroom, that’s why it’s a dive bar.”

Sam interrupted to huff in disbelief. “Did you just use the word respectable and --?”

Dean plowed ahead. “And... And, as we’ve been over so many times, you don’t use that bathroom under any circumstances. Not even to hover.” 

He turned to address Whitney now. “And you… you lost a point by agreeing with him.” His forced stern expression faded back into a smile. “But then you got it back by referencing From Dusk Till Dawn. That was a close call.”

Sam groaned and spoke to Whitney with a mischievous air that she liked very much. “We have to change the subject or he will talk about the snake dance and I can’t go through that again. Last time he talked about it for an hour, and it’s only a four-minute dance.”

“Not if you keep replaying it.” Dean fixed his eyes on a point behind his partner’s head, and he must have been watching the video in his own brain because Sam waved a hand in front of his eyes to interrupt.

Whitney ate one of her four olives, looking from one of them to the other. “You guys are fun. I thought feds were supposed to have sticks up their asses.”

“He carries both of our sticks,” Dean said. Was that a little wink he gave his partner? “He won’t admit it, but I think he likes it.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh more at Dean’s proud “yeah, you heard me” expression or the dirty look Sam shot him from across the table. The comment would’ve seemed strangely sexual, but she knew that law enforcement officials had that unvarnished way of trash-talking that civilians didn’t often understand.

“What do you do?” Dean asked as Sam’s dirty look faded in intensity. “When you’re not being picked up by two federal agents?”

“I’m --” Wait. Had he said -- two? Did he mean “picked up” as in...?

It was obvious from his reaction that Sam had the same question, but Dean was looking only at her.

Whitney watched them for a moment and started again. “I’m a high-level intermediary for some of the corporate interests in the area.”

Sam squinted, then laughed under his breath. “So, you’re a fixer.”

Whitney smiled at him demurely, tilting her head slightly. “That term has taken on some unfortunate connotations. But... yes, I pay attention. I solve problems.”

The two of them exchanged a brief look, eyes widening and brows raised. 

“Like Winston Wolfe?” Dean asked, intrigued. 

“Or more like Michael Clayton?” Sam offered. 

Dean had another one. “Madeliene White?”

Sam broke away from Whitney to look at him. “What?”

“Inside Man. You’re the one who wanted to watch it. We watched it.”

“I know the movie, Dean, I just didn’t think you were paying attention, since it didn’t have Salma Hayek dancing with a snake.”

Dean pointedly scratched the corner of his eye using only an extended middle finger, and Sam just as pointedly ignored him.

So, they watched movies together? Was being FBI partners not enough time in each other’s company?

“She was more of a power broker, actually,” Whitney said. 

Dean frowned. “Those aren’t the same thing?” 

“Power brokers are more about politics,” Sam explained. “Influencing things to turn out a certain way rather than trying to fix them. Like Henry Kissinger.” Sam added glibly for Dean’s benefit, “You might not have heard of him, since he’s not from a movie. He’s a real person.”

A nod and an obviously fake smile, all cheeks and no teeth, was his reward from Dean. There was just enough hostility in that look that she thought Sam might pay for this put-down in some small way when they didn’t have a guest.

Whitney took a sip of her martini to forestall laughing. “Well, if we’re sticking with fictional fixers, I guess I’m more like Alec Baldwin’s character in Glengarry Glen Ross. Though I’m much more diplomatic, I’d like to think. Usually.”

Dean leaned back, almost more in the corner than the chair. “Hmm. So when someone needs a fire lit under their ass, they call you.”

“Something like that.” She ate another olive. “When things are broken, they probably call someone else. But before that, they call someone like me to get things moving when they’re stopped, or stalled.” She smiled at Dean. “Not as many corpses to dispose of on that side of things.”

Smiling back, Dean raised his hand to get their server’s attention. “I’m orderin’ another round.”

Sam objected. “Dean, we haven’t even eaten anything.”

“Why do you think I’m ordering stout, dude?” Dean drained what was left in his glass and set it down with a thump. “The steak of beers. I bought you a burrito this morning, it’s not my fault you didn’t finish it like I told you to.”

Whitney sat back to watch them as they continued to bicker. There was no malice in it for them as near as she could tell. It seemed like more of a sport.

It wasn’t that they were excluding her exactly, and Sam especially would turn to her and loop her into it whenever he saw an opportunity, but the person they were trying most to entertain was each other. Which was fine. She usually preferred observing people to actually talking to them anyway.

As the give-and-take continued, she couldn’t help it. She started to notice things.

When she and Sam had started talking between the two of them, Dean would act out in some small way to get Sam’s focus back on him. She was flattered at first, thinking Dean didn’t want to share her. But when it happened the second time, she knew it was Sam he didn’t like sharing.

Dean was possessive then, jealous. Each time she watched it happen, Sam played annoyed but the rest of his body language betrayed that he was pleased. This was theatre.

They struck her as two very different people who shouldn’t have gotten along: Well-spoken vs. blunt, intellect vs. instinct. It was like the president of the chess club had hit it off with the motorcycle bad boy, and the two had bonded over some kind of shared experience, or maybe they had survived some kind of traumatic event. And now they filled in each other’s blanks.

But it was the little flickers of light between them as they argued that struck her the most. It was a little half-smile here, and a fond eye roll there, putting on a show for each other and, to a much lesser extent, her. The jaded, bossy senior partner and the eager, put-upon junior partner, each pretending they didn’t enjoy their roles.

There was more than friendship here. Or partnership. These two had tunnel vision that was only aimed at each other. 

Whitney had guessed wrong: She wasn’t in a buddy cop movie. She was in a rom-com that thought it was buddy cop movie.

After they finished a second round, Sam started to relax, and Whitney was delighted that his cheeks flushed red when he was drunk. Sam touched them self-consciously. “It happens sometimes, I don’t know why.”

“It’s adorable, makes me feel like I just bought him his first beer.” And the little light in Dean’s eyes matched that statement of “adorable” with actual adoration that she wasn’t sure he knew he was showing. “Alright, this needs to be the last round, or we won’t be having fun tonight for very long.”

There it was again, that cryptic “we.”

Sam rose awkwardly, the handle of the messenger bag already in his hand. “I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to glance down at Whitney. “It was nice to m—”

Dean silently pointed his finger from Sam to the chair. After a moment, Sam sat back down. 

The two of them then seemed to go into some silent discussion, somehow conveyed only through facial tics, Dean’s more forceful, Sam’s more uncertain.

If Sam didn’t want to be part of this, why was he? He was a big dude, the bigger of the two. He didn’t have to do what Dean was suggesting. He could’ve just gotten up, said “goodnight” and walked away. But he didn’t.

Did he want to be talked into it? And why did Dean want him there if Sam clearly didn’t want to be?

Oh.

Ohhh.

This was shaping up to be a very interesting evening.

As their secret sign language thing continued, Whitney looked up local hotels on her phone and found one that looked like it was very nice. “Let’s skip another round and just get to the main event.”

Dean beamed at her. “You are singin’ my song.” Absently, he reached over and slid the beer that Sam clearly wasn’t going to finish toward him, picking it up and draining it in one swallow, looking at Sam directly the whole time. Then, with another hand command that indicated Sam and then he and Whitney, Dean went to settle the bill.

Whitney had never made a wager in her life, but she was ready to bet money that these two were in love.

✯✯✯✯

When she got out of the bathroom and walked outside, they were standing together (very close together) against a shiny black muscle car. (She could guess who did most of the driving.) From the body language, it seemed that Dean was giving a pep talk, one hand flat against Sam’s chest. 

She approached only to hear Dean say, “Think I’m gonna poke you in the eye? You’ll be at the other end.”

They didn’t see Whitney yet, so she decided she might as well eavesdrop.

“But it’s --” Sam’s hand was anxiously raking through his hair. “We don’t -- It’s weird, right?”

“Nothin’ you haven’t seen before, puritan boy.”

“Dean, those times weren’t by choice.” Sam protested. “They were usually because you forgot to hang the thing I made on the door.”

Hold up. Hold. The. Hell. Up. 

Did these two... live together?

Dean braced him by the shoulders again. “Look, we only get to play it one day at a time, man.”

Sam stared at him, confused, then rolled his eyes and huffed. “Bull Durham? Right now?”

Dean’s laugh was in no way repentant. “Seriously, you’re good and lubed up and you’re probably feelin’ a little loose so you just have to go with the --”

Sam noticed Whitney standing there and slapped at Dean’s chest quickly in the universal “stop talking” gesture.

The two stepped away from each other slightly. Slightly. Sam was obviously considering the last words Dean had said, and his face flushed as if he was going to try to explain that Dean didn’t mean that kind of “lubed up” or that kind of “loose” but Dean held up a hand to stop this before it started and asked her, “You ready to go?”

“Absolutely, I already picked a place, but I need to make a stop on the way over, won’t be ten minutes.” She pointed at a silver Audi in the adjacent row. “Follow me.”

Dean’s grin was infectious as the prospect of sex grew nearer. Sam smiled, but also looked like he wanted a trapdoor to open beneath him and pull him down into the earth, never to be seen again.

✯✯✯✯

The hotel clerk was a lady in her 60s and, to her credit, when Whitney paid for a luxury suite with one king-sized bed for the three of them, her expression only changed subtly. It was that kind of place, with all the discretion that the rates could provide.

Dean caught the woman’s reaction and grinned back shamelessly, then turned to look at Sam as if sizing him up. Sam seemed to be carefully pretending that none of this was really happening, staring in feigned fascination at the shelf next to the front desk with all the different pamphlets for local tourist attractions. 

“California king,” Dean amended, turning back. “If you have it.”

Whitney wasn’t sure what to expect when they got into the room. More small talk? Not that she hadn’t enjoyed their small talk at the bar. Should she call room service and have them send up more drinks?

The two of them shared a soft “huh” as they walked into the room. Likely, the FBI only paid for the minimum accommodations while they were on the road.

As soon as the door was closed behind Sam, Dean casually took off his jacket and draped it over the armchair next to the door, and she watched as Sam, who seemed to be foundering, followed his lead with their socks and shoes next.

Under his jacket, Dean wore a horizontal shoulder holster in soft brown leather that looked like it was out of the 1940s. Whitney was considering asking him to put it back on once he had taken off everything else.

Next was Dean’s waistcoat. Sam didn’t have one of those, so he went with his button-down next. Just as Dean was deftly removing his tie, Sam tried to do the same and hesitated. He looked at Whitney as if he hoped she wasn’t watching, but she couldn’t not watch this play out.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

Sam’s eyes darted back to Dean. “I can’t undo your stupid knot.”

Dean stripped out of his own button-down like he didn’t care if it still had buttons tomorrow or not. He had good, solid biceps. “I’ve shown you like three times, dude. Watch the YouTube video I sent you, and practice.”

“Whenever I try to untie it, it gets worse.”

Sighing wearily, but not at all convincingly, Dean stripped out of his white undershirt. He was just as broad and meaty as she had imagined, but none of it was fat. Given the amount of stout he had just put away, he must’ve had the metabolism of a hummingbird. If she knew him better, she would’ve warned him that metabolism slows down at forty, and she figured he was coming up on that. 

When he turned around to rescue Sam, she could see every ripple and groove of his back. The deep valley down the middle looked more pronounced because of the bulk of muscle on either side. Out of the suit, and from the side, he looked almost svelte compared to how he looked from the front.

Sam raised his chin and exposed his throat so Dean could more easily access the knot. Dean picked at it from where Sam had tightened it and then undid it as effortlessly as he’d undone his own. Whitney wondered if Dean had picked out their ties this morning, and if he had tied Sam’s tie. She was wondering a lot of things.

Dean was unfastening his belt as Sam was still unbuttoning his shirt. When Dean turned, Whitney saw an ornate tattoo with a star at its center, just under his collarbone. She was actually expecting more ink on him than that.

After Sam pulled his undershirt over his head, she gaped at him, stunned. She wouldn’t have known it, but Sam was some kind of Greek god under that suit, his muscle was more structured, more by design, whereas Dean’s seemed more incidental. They were intellect vs. instinct even in this. Dean could’ve posed as Michelangelo’s David (though he was packing considerably more heat, given the outline of his black boxer briefs), but Sam was the Farnese Hercules.

Thank god both types coexisted. She wouldn’t want to live in a world where they didn’t.

As Sam reached up to smooth down his disheveled hair, Dean slapped his hand away. “No, we talked about this. You get that middle part every-thing-behind-the-ears thing, it looks stupid.” Dean stepped closer. “Here, look at me.”

She watched them, open-mouthed, enjoying this unguarded moment.

It wasn’t the way that Dean reached up with both hands to muss his partner’s hair further so that it hung messier around his face. It wasn’t the way that Dean stood back to admire his handiwork, and then stepped forward to make minor adjustments.

It was the few seconds before that, before Dean had made any move at all, where Sam had ducked his head with a good-natured eye roll, waiting patiently for Dean to “fix” his hair.

And then it was a few seconds after where Dean seemed to give his partner a critical assessment that was not only confined to his hair. “There. Looks better that way.”

Was she watching a live gay porno? That’s what this felt like. The “story” part of a porno before it got to the good stuff.

Sam turned to put his pants on the chair and she saw it.

The same tattoo that Dean had, in exactly the same location on his chest.

“Alright, guys, time out,” Whitney said finally, leaning forward.

Both men jerked toward her in unison.

They had literally forgotten she was in the room. 

She smiled. “This is where I get off.”

Their bewildered expressions matched like their damn tattoos, and Dean’s eyebrows were raised, mouth quirked in a half-smile. He had only just realized that she hadn’t removed any of her clothes, not even her shoes.

“The ride,” she expanded. “This is where I get off the ride, now that I’ve got you two where I want you.”

As Dean put himself between her and Sam, he went through an abrupt transformation. Suddenly, he moved with military bearing and every muscle she could see was... not tense, exactly, but ready. There was no more Cary Grant; it had all burned away. There wasn’t even James Dean. 

This, she ventured, was Dean Gillan. The real one, under all the charm and showmanship. She was looking at Mr. Fistfights-for-Fun, in the flesh. In almost all of his flesh, actually. 

“What are you?” He asked, voice stripped of any sultry teasing. 

In that moment, she could see the man who wanted to wrap his fingers in his younger partner’s long hair and fuck hard into him for those little disparaging remarks back at the bar. 

As Sam stood just behind Dean to back him up, puppy face gone hard, she realized she was legitimately frightened of them both.

“I’m a fixer,” she said quietly, hoping to bring down the temperature in the room just a bit. “I get things moving when they’re stopped, or stalled.”

She indicated Dean first. “You want to be here. You want to fuck me. But, more importantly, you want him to see you fucking me. You want to show off, you want him to see how good you are. Because he’ll see what you do to me, and he’ll wish it was him, and you like the thought of that.”

Dean stepped just a little closer, but she continued.

Then Sam. “You do not want to be here. At least, not for me. You want to be with him, and you see sex-by-proxy, even sex you don’t want to have, as a way to get that. Something might accidentally happen between the two of you. That’s your hope. But me?” She smiled. “You don’t want me. You don’t want anyone else but him.”

Dean snorted derisively and glanced at Sam with an unspoken “can you believe this bullshit?”, but drew back slightly when Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t help but notice that Dean made no specific denials of her assessment of him.

She went back to Dean. “You want him. Maybe more than you’ve ever wanted anything, but you don’t think you can have him.”

Then to Sam. “And the same for you. What is it, FBI regulations about fraternization?” Neither of them would look at her now. “Because I have a newsflash for you: It’s really obvious. You’re not subtle. Any supervising agent you have who hasn’t noticed is either oblivious or looking the other way because you’re good at your jobs. If I hadn’t had three martinis before I saw you at the bar, I would’ve picked up on it a lot faster.” She went back to Dean again. “You gave it away, almost right away, and I missed it at first. When I made the remark about your partner being hot, you didn’t get jealous. You didn’t get angry. You were... honored. Proud. You were gratified that someone else found him hot.”

She could tell by the hard line of his jaw and eyes that looked all but dead that Dean’s temper was barely in check, and even though neither of them could look at the other, Dean held one hand against Sam’s stomach as if holding him back.

“We could all still hook up,” she said calmly. “Or the two of you could hook up, and I could just watch.” To Dean, “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Why is it that when you’re fucking a woman and your partner’s around, you can’t seem to lock a door, or hang a sign? You want him to see you, just like that, in all your glory. All sweaty, red-faced and fucked-out.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably behind Dean.

“And you,” she addressed to Sam. “Your partner doesn’t strike me as being a particularly quiet lover, and I doubt the women he’s with are quiet, either. And you’re a trained FBI agent. You listen at doors before you open them. You already know what’s happening on the other side, so why do you open it? Why are you always so, so shocked by what you see?”

“You’ve got us wrong,” Dean said finally, but even he seemed to realize that this was a weak rebuttal.

“I’m wrong about a lot of things,” Whitney admitted. “But not people. I’m always right about people.” 

Whitney stood now, hands spread placatingly with a plastic bag hanging from one wrist. “You can treat this room like a pocket universe if you want. A place where you can resolve all this tension and want and then, if you don’t feel like talking about it after that, you agree to never speak of it again. But I don’t think your partnership would survive. I think you’ll like what happens in here, if you give it a chance.”

She handed that plastic bag to Dean, who took it only reluctantly, letting it hang from two fingers like it was something foul.

“That’s what I picked up on the stop before we drove here,” Whitney explained. “I don’t think either of you have done this before, so I thought it might ease things along. For your bottom... or that is to say, Sam’s bottom.”

Dean looked a little smug at this appraisal, which Sam caught. As if fully realizing what he was being smug about, Dean’s face went carefully neutral. 

“You’ve got the room until noon tomorrow.” Whitney put her purse on her shoulder. “It’s a luxury suite. There’s room service. You can simply decide that you’re going to sleep here and nothing will happen. But if I were you...” She smiled. “I’d make it memorable. I might even see it as a challenge to break the bed.”

Whitney walked past them, still not entirely unafraid but playing it off. Right before she closed the door, she said, “It was nice being an intermediary for something other than a multinational corporation.” Finally returning the wink Dean had given her earlier, she said. “Good luck.”

[dewyandbare-blog]

skin potions review (◕‿◕✿)

Skin Potions

I heard about Skin Potions from several bloggers and from the ads on Instagram and Facebook. I was curious but I still had products to use and they were still doing their job, not that they’re ineffective now but curiosity really got me and there was a sale near me so I purchased a couple of products from Skin Potions. I bought it last March 14, 2019 during the Beautify 2019 event. I literally went out of my way from Valenzuela to buy the Peach Thy Lash product but ended up buying 3 more products. In my defense, their packaging is super cute, okay! They made a cartoon out of the main ingredient of their products. I used them right away when I did my skin care routine that night so let me break down my experience with their products:

·       Tomato Serum

 I have heard of tomato having skin care benefits but I haven’t tried one so this my first try. This serum, according to their website, claims to increase fairness, balance pH levels, tighten pores, treat sunburn, reduce skin irritation, and cure acne. It’s organic and uses natural-based ingredients. I got it for Php207 but it’s originally Php 295 so that’s 30% off! Not bad for a locally made serum especially if it really works!

 Packaging/Product: The label sticker is so cute: a tomato picking his/her fellow tomatoes! As I said, the graphic design really attracts buyers since the color scheme, cartoon drawings, font is pleasing to the eyes. The bottle has a pump which is what I consider hygienic since I don’t like dirt from the environment potentially mixing with the product. I also like that you can control the amount that comes out because some pumps don’t work and release much more than you intend to get due to faulty pump bottle. The pump bottle contains 30mL or 1.014 fl. oz. of serum in it which is dropper bottle. It also smells like strawberry which is a surprise considering it’s a tomato-based product. My mom even thought ants would crawl on our faces at night because it smells too sweet, it might attract ants. Update: It didn’t attract ants to our faces.

 Performance: The serum is thick in consistency. I only need a pea-size amount for my entire face. It dries pretty quickly when I apply it in a dry airconditioned room. Why do I need an airconditioned room? Because here’s the thing, my face sweats easily so I think it affects the performance in my opinion. I think because of the sweat on my face, my skin can’t fully absorb the serum so I had to dry my face off with electric fan. Anyway, the serum spreads easily across the face and leaves a sticky feeling for a little while. I don’t know if it’s just me or everybody experiences the post-application sticky feeling. It’s only for a little while though because the serum dries pretty quickly, maybe less than 30 seconds. I use the serum twice a day, one in the morning or afternoon and one in the evening.

 Results: My skin is sensitive to certain products; the reaction is immediate. I will see blind pimples in places I don’t usually get them so that’s how I know whether the product is compatible with my skin or not. Fortunately for me, the Tomato Serum is compatible with my skin. I noticed that my bumps lessened in numbers and my pimples decreased in size. My skin still has texture but I have yet to see if it smoothens after one bottle. I haven’t seen any major differences in my skin but I will still use it because it gradually lessens my bumps and pimples.

·         Rosehip Oil

I’ve always wanted to try the Rosehip Oil because my friends say the whiten the dark scars from pimple/acne. I never had the chance since the popular brands I looked at sells them for 500 and up and as a student, I don’t have the budget for that. Until, Skin Potions announced that they will have mega sale in North Edsa. My mom immediately bought one to see if the reviews are true. It costs Php200 when we got it but there was a 50% off so it’s originally priced at Php400 for a 30mL or 1.014 fl. oz.. I consider it a steal since most Rosehip costs Php500 and up!

 Packaging/Product: The label sticker was a little off, it can be easily peeled off since the sticker size exceeds the space on the bottle. It’s a spray bottle which got me curious how will that work since it’s oil. Its consistency is a little thicker than liquid. Unfortunately, it sprays everywhere whenever I use it so I had to be careful when using it. No matter how I use it (against my palm or fingers), the product sprays everywhere. The bottle contains 30mL or 1.014 fl. oz of product which is also standard with oils. I wish the container is a dropper bottle because it’s easier to use with oils.

 Performance: I don’t usually use oils. I stayed off of it since I realized it feels hot on the skin. The last time I did was with V&M Naturals’ Emu Oil, that worked out great for me. The Rosehip Oil is like your typical oil. It doesn’t have any special thing to it. It doesn’t smell anything special. It applies to the skin like any other oils so I can’t speak any more than that.

 Results: The results were great. I only used 4-5 times since I bought it but I already saw great results on my skin. Since my skin is sensitive, I always have pimples on my cheeks, forehead and sometimes, jaws. I have a bad habit on picking on them when I forget to put a pimple patch on it and that often results to dark scars. I refuse to put make up on it because I sweat a lot (it would be useless) and I don’t go out when I have fresh dark marks. It’s embarrassing. When I applied it after 4-5 times, I noticed that a 1-week old dark mark on my right cheek lightened. Had I not put anything on it, it would last for months before it fades. It’s amazing. I will post pictures of before and after when it completely lightens.

·         Peach Thy Lash

I’m pretty insecure with my eyebrows ever since I had it threaded so I always use eyebrow pencils. I tried using castor oil for my brows and lashes but I feel a slight pain on my eyebrow area and sting in my eyes. Also, pure castor oil feels heavy on the lashes so I don’t like putting it on much. When I saw the Instagram posts of Skin Potions and saw actual results from Peach Thy Lash, I decided then and there that I would buy one. It’s pretty cheap considering the packaging is great so I was excited to use it. It claims to grow and strengthen your eyebrows and lashes. I got for Php120 but it really costs Php150.

Packaging/Product: It’s so small, only 5mL or 0.169 fl. oz, so at first, I expected less with the quality of packaging but when I saw the size of the spoolie brush, I was amazed because I already know from the looks of it that it will apply great on my eyebrows and lashes. The serum smells like flowers so I enjoy using it. The ingredients are almost all organic: water, castor oil, Tsubaki oil, aloe water, and rosehip oil. It also contains perfume and a preservative called phenoxyethanol. What’s also great about it is the stopper in the tube’s mouth that prevents me from using so much product at once. It saves me from using so much and finishing the tube quickly.

 Performance: The spoolie works great when applying the product since it’s bigger than the usual spoolies, I can see that it spreads the serum evenly on my brows and lashes. The only con is that I can’t reach the corner hairs on my lashes without hitting my eyes, so I have to use both hands to apply the serum on all the hairs including the inner corner ones. Overall, it’s a great product in terms of performance. I use it twice a day, morning and night. It dries out quickly and it doesn’t feel heavy on the brows and lashes.

 Results: I have a less hair on the front of my eyebrows and I have bald spot on my lashes so that’s my focus when applying. On my bald front brows, I notice that there are little hairs growing right now. It’s not really noticeable unless I look closely into it. I was happy with it because it means my bald brows still have hope. On my lashes, they’re already a good length, not too short and it fans out so I should be content with it right? But I also have a bald spot, so I see to it to put serum on it first. But overall, I see that my lashes look a little longer than before to the point where I can see them without looking at a mirror.

 General Verdict:

I know it’s too early to say it but I really like the products in terms of price, packaging, performance, and the results after at least a week. For a student, the price range of their products are affordable. I don’t mind splurging a little bit on their products because the quality in general is amazing so far. The packaging is well-thought out in my opinion because their color schemes, cute characters and overall packaging feel is attractive. It makes you want to buy more. Personally, I want to collect their products because it’s so cute. The performance is also a plus, it’s functions well. It;s not hassle to use. I almost did not have a difficulty using their products except for the Rosehip Oil, the oil splashes everywhere no matter what angle I do or how softly I press the pump. I wish they would change it to a dropper bottle instead. It’s easier to use. The results? I love it. My skin didn’t react badly to it. It only means that it doesn’t have a toxic ingredient on it. I will include it in my skin care routine from now on. I also can’t wait to try out their other products! Good job, Skin Potions Team!

Photos © Skin Potions Website

[allthingsgreengreenliving]

This #Fibro business sucks!! ❤ it’s so hard to schedule myself for anything because I never know what kind of day I’m gonna have from one day to the next. So for the past few months I haven’t been doing as many at home parties or vendor events as I’d like. The months before that were horrible as I couldn’t keep my commitments to the vendor events I had already paid for. So not only did I lose out on my investment but also on the opportunity to sell and make up my investment on paid for inventory. 😔 That was so frustrating! Not to mention the bridges that were burned for not keeping my promises. I know I lost a lot of friendships over this. If only they knew... It’s not laziness, it’s not disrespect or lack of integrity on my part. But sheer pain that keeps me from sleeping at night and pure exhaustion. Not to mention major brain fog. Last night I was in all over body pain. It starts at my jaw, radiates up my neck to the top of my head. My head hurts so bad it feels like I got hit with baseball bats. I’m literally sore all over. 😖 It then spreads to my shoulder. I can barely move it. The pain then goes down my back and makes me literally nauseous. It gives me such an upset stomach. Occasionally so bad I end up throwing up. 🤮 This was me last night at four in the morning. I couldn’t sleep all night, I got up about 3am with awful stomach pain and nausea. By 4 am I was bent over the toilet crying and throwing up. Poor Jim work up and wanted to help me but there’s not much he can do. I’ve taken #cbd oil for the pain, it does nothing for me. So on my drs recommendation I got it with THC oil. 🙌🏼 It’s helps me get the sleep I need. 😴 But the thc amount is so low I have to use an entire dropper for it to take effect. But in doing so it upsets my stomach. 🤢 In short this has been a crazy balancing act. All this to say... that I appreciate you my awesome loyal friends and customers. 💝 It’s all I’ve got just to keep going so having your loyalty and support means the world to me!! I’ll get better I promise. 🥰In the mean time I’m still here. My business is still open. . #customerlove #norwex #theelitesuite #empowersocial #allthingsgreenliving #ecofriendlyliving (at Santa Maria, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/B7uJIFhBXTA/?igshid=mil9fvaireo8

[gothify1]

We're not afraid of a little TMI here at Who What Wear. Kat Collings has chronicled her experience with Thinx period underwear , Caitlin Burnett has written about her experience with micro-needling and IPL , and Erin Jahns has been honest about her skin battles as a pimple-prone beauty editor. So in the spirit of my co-workers who bared it all before me, I present you with an insanely close-up look at my (sort of disgusting) scalp. Let me explain. I've struggled with dandruff and a dry, itchy scalp for years. Scratching my head often releases a flurry of snowlike flakes on my collar. Embarrassing. No matter how much dandruff shampoo and Scalpicin I use, I've never seemed to be able to conquer my itchy scalp. So when I read about Blow Me Away , a "head spa" in L.A. and Tokyo that specializes in the Japanese method of scalp revitalization, I was immediately intrigued. The owner, Keiko Uehara, kindly set me up with an appointment, and to say I was excited would be an understatement. I received the Dry Scalp Care service from Blow Me Away's head spa technician, Sayaka Lee. It included a 15-minute consultation, a 45-minute treatment session, and a 30-minute blow-dry. The consultation was first. Lee sat me down in front of a computer and used a magnifier to look at my scalp and assess its condition (resulting in the jarringly close-up photos below). This was when she stressed the importance of lifestyle habits when it comes to your scalp and hair health. She told me that plenty of sleep, a healthy diet, ample water intake, and minimal stress are all vital to your scalp health and, in return, your hair health . After the consultation, Lee led me into a private treatment room to shampoo my hair, apply the salon's signature organic mask made of thyme and rice wax, massage my scalp, and put on a steaming cap. The process was incredibly relaxing, and I'd argue that a great scalp massage could be even better at de-stressing the body than a back massage (but maybe that's because I personally hold so much tension in my jaw). Oh, and it certainly helped that the chair reclined flat, as opposed to upright chairs at most salon shampoo stations. Finally, I got a blowout and some product recommendations and was sent on my merry way. Keep reading for more details about what I discovered during this process. Lee explained that the splotchiness you see here is product buildup, not dandruff, because the patches are attached to the hair as opposed to sitting on my skin. (For reference, I wash my hair about two to three times per week and hadn't washed my hair in four days when I visited Blow Me Away.) After using the magnifier to look at my scalp, Lee determined that most of my dryness is at the top and front of my scalp, while the back of my scalp was quite healthy. Lee partly attributed this to the fact that I have bangs and use heat styling on them pretty regularly, whereas I often let the rest of my hair air-dry. As opposed to the first image, which showed product buildup, this snapshot shows my scalp's flakiness and dryness. To me, this photo was the most jaw-dropping because you can see how my pores literally opened up after the steaming and mask treatment. I've heard the term "deep-cleaning pores" before, but I've never seen it so up-close-and-personal. The steaming is meant to open up the hair follicles, stimulate circulation, and promote hair growth—and it certainly appears to have done its job. I've dabbled with exfoliating and detoxing shampoos in the past, but I've honestly never had my scalp feel as clean as it did after visiting Blow Me Away. This is me immediately after the treatment and blowout, feeling squeaky clean. This is the brand used at Blow Me Away. I usually don't get suckered into buying the products that hairstylists recommend, but I was super excited about this product and bought it on the spot. I currently use Head & Shoulders shampoo for my dandruff, but Lee recommended using this once a week and only reverting to my Head & Shoulders for emergencies. This product is organic and boasts rosemary oil, willow bark extract, Almeth, and biolin. I didn't buy this product after my treatment, but Lee used it on my hair during the blowout, and I was very pleased with the softness of my hair. This is a heat protectant that's made with ethical marula oil, among other organic ingredients. If you've ever battled with a dry or itchy scalp, you know how coveted a "serene" scalp really is. This is a great bet if you're looking for a high-end solution for your dandruff. You might as well splurge for the coordinating conditioner as well. As a bonus, it will look beautiful in your shower. This exfoliating shampoo is great for healing itchy scalps and removing product buildup. This leave-in treatment has a dropper so you can apply it directly to your scalp. The charcoal detoxifies, while the peppermint and spearmint address itchiness and inflammation. Don't take my word for it: This clarifying shampoo has over 1800 positive reviews on Nordstrom's website. Made with purifying ingredients like cedarwood oil and rosemary leaf oil, this treatment is designed to be used 15 minutes before you shampoo. Sugar crystals gently exfoliate your scalp, while almond and coconut oils, among other ingredients, nourish your skin. Next, Kate Middleton wore the $30 Zara item everyone will want .

[findingourjoy]

Good Grief & Dates and Times

Charlie Brown said it best – GOOD Grief!  Well there is nothing really good about it.  It’s hard.  Demands to be felt and dealt with!  I am grateful that I have worked through the bulk of my raw grief.  It’s not to say, I don’t have real feelings about my life and my situation – but the black heavy coat of grief that robs your sleep and makes you question if you do have what it takes to get to the other side- yeah I don’t miss that and am grateful that there was the other side and that I made it over.

I knew, innately, that if my kids saw a Mama who was ok that they would know they would be ok too.  So while they were awake – I was ok.  They did see me grieve – they never or rarely saw me literally lose my “stuff”.   They, of course, have a had a front row seat to this new life of ours, they have each dealt with each change in unique ways and their process of grieving and healing has not been on the same time frame as mine.  

Their grief first manifested with unending colds in January and February of 2014.  I was thankful that our Manny at the time Alex was so open to helping us and thankfully their colds never took him out.  Kenzie’s sleep patterns were greatly affected and took the better part of 2 years to get back on track.  For Ace, he’s not reading my blog so he won’t be too embarrassed but he lost ground with being potty trained.  Navigating their grief has been difficult, and likely the untold story of being a widow and what Social Media makes healing look like.  In the middle of December Mackenzie mentioned that her Dads birthday was coming up and that 11 days later was the anniversary of his death.  Of course I knew these dates – but for her to know them too weighed heavy on my heart.  

Around the same time while driving home from a birthday celebration of Jeff’s friend (mine too) Mackenzie had an honest question.  We were celebrating Uncle Victor who had so much to celebrate not only a monumental birthday – but also he was recently healed of colon cancer.  She asked, “Mom I don’t know how to say this because I am so happy about it – But why would God heal Uncle Victor but let Daddy die?”  These are the moments that no one prepares you for – there isn’t a book saying this will likely happen when you’re dead tired driving Southbound on highway 880.  No one tells you how to answer questions that have no good answers.  In those moments you just grab your little and share their pain, and ugly cry until you both can hardly breathe, and just hope that with each tear it’s bringing her closer to the other side of the pit of grief.  You also hope God drops some serious wisdom with an illustration in your brain.  Though I don’t have all the answers I am thankful He did drop a few anecdotes in my heart to share, that brought my girl comfort and perspective.

Our family’s mantra is – “We are a family that loves each other!”  It’s especially cute (sarcasm anyone) when I remind my kids about this and make them ask forgiveness from each other while they whine out that line.   In the early days most nights would end with all three of us crying over our loss in my bed together.  We have had a day like that not long ago.  I tell them often that though I am so sad they have experienced loss I am glad we have each other as we navigate this new life.  Kid grief its so different then my own, its gnarly and raw and gross.  But I think because they are so innocent it is a lot less complicated.  They aren’t wrought with the worry of all that could go wrong like I was – its no easy walk their road but I am so proud that they keep trying and keep their heads us.  They really don’t know all they have lost and because of their youth  - they look to me for stability and life for fun. 

Time is so different at each age right?  The last 3 years for me have been both the fastest and longest 3 years ever.  Time; it stands still for no one.  I was 40 when Jeff passed.  Today I have lived longer then he did.  My Ace will be 7 in a matter of days.  He will have lived longer with out Jeff then he did with him.  Also, and this is a jaw dropper, at the end of January we will have been back in California longer then we ever lived in Arizona.  The thing is – time it really is a vapor.  This year 2017 – these days and its time are going to tick by.  We will cherish some of its days for a long time – other days we won’t be able to say goodbye to fast enough.  But let’s be deliberate to live each day of this year as a gift.  Life, regardless who is president is a gift.  Whatever you have planned for 2017; I hope you live it purposefully and with plenty of joy!

Xoxo,

Sandy #dunnpartyof3

[envirotravel]

Exploring Penang: Southeast Asia’s Melting Pot

So, while I’m still catching up on my ridiculously delayed 2016 travel recaps, I just can’t wait to start sharing my big trip (thus far) of 2017. So I’ll be jumping back and forth a bit again. Apologies for any confusion, my friends!

Penang, Malaysia. Not only is it one of Southeast Asia’s most historically interesting, artistically relevant and food obsessed cities, it’s also one of the most commonly visited by expats in Southern Thailand for various visa services. Which makes it just about crazy that it took me until this year to finally take a proper trip there. It was, in true form, for all the cliché reasons — to tag along on Ian’s trip to process his Thai work permit, to eat, and to check out the capital’s infamous street art scene.

The last time I was in Malaysia in 2009 I was so broke I stayed in hostels that legitimately could have been used as the sets for horror movies and was so painfully picky of an eater that I very likely could have starved… and so I was looking forward to this being a very different kind of trip.

As soon as we landed in Georgetown I felt obscenely grateful for three small luxuries. One, a direct flight from Bangkok. Two, the most affordable Uber rates I’ve encountered anywhere in the world. Three, the fact that we’d booked a modern Airbnb with an absolute luxury of space after a chaotic four day festival. I’d looked at a few centrally-located hotels that made my heart skip a beat, but in the end we couldn’t resist using a chunk of my Airbnb credit instead. (Want $30 off your first booking? Click here!)

Penang is a food mecca and so we didn’t have many plans to use the kitchen; that said, we did an obscene amount of laundry — festival dust happens — and watched an entire HBO miniseries from the couch, so I’d say we absolutely made the right move renting an apartment over staying in a hotel.

We’d been a bit concerned about not staying right in the hub of Georgetown, but in the end we were only about a twelve minute Uber, and the rates were insanely cheap. I should probably apologize in advance for how often I’m going to rave about the price of Uber in Penang, but let’s just get onboard with that now to make life easier for all of us. Literally, for four days of Ubering around the city, including trips to and from the airport, I paid less than $20USD. 

I kind of winced at renting a two bedroom for just two people, but at $84 per night we couldn’t complain. While the shared gym and pool weren’t quite as luxurious as we’d hoped and the bathrooms were a bit of a disappointment, the rest of our unit was beautiful and you simply can’t beat ocean views.

We were so happy camped out in our high rise that we actually barely left for the first two nights, just ducking out briefly to drop off Ian’s work permit paperwork and to dine on deliciously cheap Indian food. It felt so good to just catch up on a bit of work and unwind alone together after a big hectic week of festivaling with friends.

On our third day in Penang, we finally felt prepared to, as we say, “do tourism.” We kicked off our morning heading straight into Georgetown for breakfast at Mugshot Cafe.

Valentine’s Day had been about a week prior and my gift to Ian was researching the Penang eateries I thought he’d love the most and presenting him with homemade coupons for a meal at each. Normally Ian gets me the best gifts ever and I give him the equivalent of a kid’s fingerpainting halfheartedly presented to mom after day care — and Ian usually reacts with the same level of undeserved gratitude — so I kind of knocked this one out of the park and I’m not mad about it.

We literally drooled over our order of bagel sandwiches, homemade mango and walnut yogurt, and coffee for Ian and grape smoothies for me. Can you say died and went to hipster breakfast heaven?

After, we wandered over to Ian’s visa processing agent to see if his paperwork had been approved, which was really just an elaborate ruse to kill time until we could eat more. Georgetown was one of the most photogenic cities I’ve ever seen — in four days we didn’t really do enough to justify more than a one-post word count, but I had so many photos I loved I couldn’t force myself to cut down to much less than a hundred.

While this 113sq mile island has much more to it than it’s capital, tourism is certainly centered around the UNESCO World Heritage Site capital, Georgetown. We had big plans to go hiking in Penang National Park and go to the beach and other hilariously ambitious ideas that got sidetracked as soon as we experienced the joy of sitting on our Airbnb couch, but just wandering the streets of Georgetown turned out to be more than enough to entertain us for a large majority of our four-day stay.

Pretty dang soon it was time for lunch at ChinaHouse, one of Penang’s trendiest galleries-turned-eateries with multiple venues in one building.

Penang is literally filled to the brim with insanely tempting baked goods — a serious departure from almost anywhere in Malaysia’s neighbor to the north, Thailand. As a certified sugar addict I couldn’t resist the chance to gorge myself on baked goods that didn’t taste like cardboard, and rather than fight the dessert-loving seven-year-old inside of me, I just went full childhood fantasy and ordered cake for lunch. How do you say “why not?” in Bahasa Malaysia?

ChinaHouse lets you order half slices, which meant I got to try two — passionfruit coconut butter and pear ginger. Both were out of this world. (Ian ordered normal lunch food like an adult, in case you were wondering if there was anyone chaperoning.)

After lunch, we hopped in an Uber to explore two of Penang’s most well-loved tourist sites, Kek Lok Si temples and Penang Hill. First up was Kek Lok Si, the largest Buddhist temple in Malaysia and a cornerstone of the Chinese Buddhist community in Penang.

Our driver dropped us at the very top of the multi-level temple, and we strolled around before taking a cable car down to Ban Po Thar Ten Thousand Buddhas Pagoda, which Lonely Planet Penang described at “Burmese at the top, Chinese at the bottom and Thai in between,” an apt metaphor for the multi-cultural melting pot that is Penang.

After eight years of traveling through Southeast Asia, I consider myself pretty tough to impress when it comes to temples. This one, however, was a jaw-dropper. It really doesn’t matter where you’ve been or what you think you’ve seen — you need to come to Kek Lok Si.

We were lucky enough to have our visit coincide with a service, so our silent wanderings around the grounds of the temple were soundtracked by a chorus of hundreds of Buddhists singing, chanting, and ringing bells. Combined with the fact that we had the place more or less to ourselves right before closing, it was magical. Best of all? Admission and cable car combined for both of us cost $2.25.

While it was hard to imagine that the views could get much better than the ones from Kek Lok Si, we were in the area anyway, and so we took a quick Uber over to Penang Hill. Used as a retreat from the heat during the British colonial period, today the hill is still a top destination for escaping the sticky humidity at sea level — it’s almost always a full ten degrees cooler at the summit. We paid about $10US for one standard adult ticket and one student ticket (looking like I’m still 18 is annoying when getting carded in bars, but fabulous when offered student discounts.)

There in the refreshing air nearly 2,700 feet above George Town, we found amazing views across the island and over to the mainland — we even spotted the high-rise apartment our Airbnb was in, teeny tiny in the distance! Also at the summit was a fancy British restaurant, some gardens and displays and your standard kitschy tourist trappings, but the real attraction here aside from the views is the funicular ride itself! It was so fast and steep it almost felt like a thrill ride at an amusement park. It was a brief but brilliant way to end our day Penang.

Stay tuned for Part II!

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