#but that’s fucking expensive and wasteful and I really don’t enjoy buying a new wardrobe every season

[sassmill]

Oh fucking no

[bm-binger]

My Lovely Hazard

Kara learned early on in their relationship that Lena is easily startled– something she doesn't know how she'd missed in the early miles of their friendship.

It started when Lena stayed the night during the beginnings of their romantic relationship. Kara woke to the smell of frying bacons and gentle humming coming from the kitchen, her hands grasping for Lena's naked warmth only to come up with ruffled sheets and a Lena-shaped indent. She padded quietly from the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe to observe her girlfriend–Rao, she still can’t believe Lena is her girlfriend–softly humming to herself while flipping some scrambled eggs on the frying pan. The domesticity of the moment–with Lena cooking breakfast in nothing but her navy silk blouse partially unbuttoned, barefooted, and soft black hair piled in a messy bun–filled Kara with warmth and inexplicable love. She walked towards her occupied girlfriend silently–something she still hadn't learned not to do–and wrapped her arms around Lena's waist.

But what she expected to be a gentle greeting, maybe a chaste kiss and a playful laugh from the other woman was quickly shattered when Lena jumped in terror at the unexpected grip– whipping around to attack the intruder with the scalding hot spatula, successfully hitting Kara solidly on her forehead; an automatic response for the amount of times her life has been threatened at the hands of death. It earned Kara a half-torn spatula–which she notes on, 'I have to run to home depot. Again.'–and a wide-eyed Lena spewing apologies at rapid speed even Kara had trouble following.

“Omygod! I'm so so sorry– I didn't mean– Oh, God. I'm sorry– sorry sorry sorrysorrysorry!”

Kara, recovering from her shock at the turn of events, laughed heartily in response. She circled her hands around Lena's flailing wrists and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“You're buying me a new spatula.”

Lena only blushed red.

The second time, she completely forgot how jumpy Lena can be–her excitement clouding her carefulness around Lena after that morning incident– that she thoughtlessly and exuberantly barged into Lena's office with her arm waving her phone around. Her excitement though was shuttered, when Lena's office mug came hurtling towards her in a perfect arc. She easily caught the object and stared at Lena who's equally wide-eyed– the young CEO's heart hammering wildly against her ribcage.

“Jesus– I'm sorry, darling. You startled me!” Lena walked to a rooted Kara, whose mouth is agape.

She placed a peck of greeting and apology on the reporter's slightly gaped lips, prompting Kara to shut her mouth and blink three times.

“How does Jess manage to come in here unharmed?”

Lena smiled guiltily, “She informs me via the intercom. But let's say there was a few mug throwing the first few weeks she worked for me.”

Kara chuckled lightly, “Well, I'll knock next time.” She then kissed Lena properly– tension draining from both of their frames.

The third time– well, no one can fault Kara, really. It was an emergency! And it was dire! Word of Cadmus coming into their radar had Kara flying to L-Corp below the sound barrier–worry occupying her mind and the need to see Lena and bring her to the DEO for her safety. Kara hadn't gotten over when Lillian kidnapped her girlfriend and had her captivated for a week. When Winn finally found their location, Kara wasted no second locating the given coordinates– not waiting for J'onn and Alex order a strike team– and arrived to the scene with the sight of her girlfriend battered and bruise and barely breathing.

To say Kara was terrified is an understatement and her rage towards Lillian climbed to great heights.

So when she landed to Lena's office balcony and found her girlfriend nowhere to be seen, the familiar grip of terror seized her heart vehemently. Thoughts of Cadmus lackeys getting there before her ran rampant in her mind. But when she focused her hearing and sensed Jess’ languid typing, she immediately released a breath in relief. With her chest puffed out, the crest of House of El proudly worn, she strode across the empty office and towards Jess’ desk tepidly.

“Yes, miss Danvers?” Jess greeted confidently without looking up.

Kara immediately halted, eyes widening and frantically looking around if anyone heard. She quickly walked to Jess’ desk. “How'd you know??!” She whispered in panic.

Jess met her gaze coolly. “I work for a woman who was dabbed as a child prodigy when she was 14. How do you think?”

Of course. Of course Lena would only choose someone almost as intelligent as her to trust.

Kara sighed heavily, “You have to come to the DEO and sign some NDA's, Jess.”

Jess only shrugged. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

Remembering her reason for being there, Kara straightened up and propped her hands to her hips. “Where's Lena?”

“Down at R&D.”

And just like that, Kara was a blur of blue and red. It only took her five minutes–five minutes too long!–to locate Lena and enter the laboratory she's working in.

“Lena you have to com–” her words were cut short when a microscope came hurtling towards her and smashed against her right shoulder–the parts disintegrating into pieces and onto the pristine white floor.

“Kara!” Lena exclaimed, hands cupping her mouth in shock at what she'd just threw at Kara and without meaning to muttered “That was expensive.”

Kara glared at her.

“How did you even manage to hurl that?!” Kara asked incredulously, familiar with the weight of a microscope after getting the chance to use one when she solar flared.

Lena blushed in embarrassment, “Um– adrenaline.” She shrugged, her heart still beating rapidly from the shock of Kara's arrival.

Kara stared at her girlfriend for a minute. Thanking Rao that she's practically made of steel.

“You're impressively adorable as is terrifying.”

Lena blushed brighter.

The fourth time elicited a fire accident. Kara didn't mean it, she certainly didn't thought her simple query wether Lena needs more tampons would result to her almost burning her apartment down– the apartment Lena practically lives in already for half of her wardrobe is already occupying Kara's dress drawers.

The both of them were spending a day off from the office with Kara lounging in the couch, shoulders hunched over the coffee table while she listed down the things they'd need from their scheduled afternoon grocery shopping. Pondering wether they have enough hygiene products, Kara called out to Lena– who was preparing something for lunch, a half glass of wine at her elbow. The quiet stillness of the apartment a comfort to Lena.

“Babe, do you need some tampons?” Kara yelled across the apartment.

Her expected answer came with an alarmed yelp of 'Fuck!’ followed by the distinctive roar of the kitchen stove.

Kara jumped from the couch and hurriedly ran to the kitchen to find Lena frantically wetting a towel under the faucet, the fire in the stove climbing to the ceiling, a broken glass of wine laying on the floor with drips of the alcohol wetting the stove top– possibly the culprit which fed the hungry flames. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Kara used her freeze breath to put out the fire. The stove now frozen and sporting some icicles. 'Home depot. Again.’

“Thank Rao for freeze breath.”

“I'm sorry.” The crack to Lena's voice had Kara look at her and see the welling tears in her green eyes.

She hurriedly padded over to Lena, cupping her face in her hands and rubbing the few tears that escaped from her shining green eyes.

“Shhh, it's alright, Lena. It's just a stove–”

Lena jerked her head out of Kara's hand, rubbing at her own eyes. “No! I'm always ruining things. I even threw a microscope at you. A microscope, Kara! What if I had hurt you?! I'm so sorry. I'll buy you a new stove. I promise. I understand if you want to break up with me–”

“No!” Kara cupped her cheeks firmly– not enough to hurt, but enough to make Lena look at her in the eye–”No. Don't be ridiculous. I love you! I'm not gonna break up with you over a stupid stove, Lena–”

“But–”

“No buts.” Kara interjected but Lena went on regardless.

“But what if you've solar flared and I threw something at you 'cause you startled me and I hurt you and you'd hate me and Alex too 'cause I'm such a clumsy Luthor–”

Kara swallowed Lena's unexpected rambling with her mouth, lips pushing against Lena's until the green-eyed girl relaxed against her.

She broke the kiss then leaned her forehead against Lena's, “I love you. Unexpected clumsiness and all and I'm not gonna break up with you over a meager thing. No matter how many things you accidentally throw at me.” She teased softly.

Lena chuckled softly at the harmless tease, stealing a peck from Kara, “I love you too. So much.”

They enjoyed the quiet of the moment for several seconds, revelling in each other's presence and the security that Lena's clumsiness that came from being easily startled isn't something Kara hates but accepts as a part of the Lena she loves, and that Kara won't end their relationship over it.

“It's a good thing I'm Super.” Kara joked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Lena's laughter echoed in the apartment, full, carefree, and unbridled, before humming contently, “A Luthor and a Super. Who would've thought?”

A kiss is Kara's only enthusiastic reply.

[artificialqueens]

Supersonic; Work Of Art (Shalaska) - shadyqueenie

A/N: Hi honeys! I know I said “see you at the end of November!1!!”, but I’m really getting bored here in Nagano-shi and I suffered a lot the jet-lag.

With this one-shot I went outside my comfort zone for two main reasons – first of all, it’s a Shalaska (💕✨) and second, there’s a small (small, small, extra small) smut scene. (Aaaaand I’m not going to do that again for a long time.) Bla, bla, bla, English is not my first language, bla, bla, bla sorry for grammar mistakes and so on. Kisses! Your Duh, Shady✨

“Work of Art” is part of the Supersonic Collection [Those one-shots are slightly connected with each-other, you can read them here . The common thread is the fact that almost everyone works at Vanguard Magazine, an important fashion magazine.] Alaska is Trinity’s personal assistant. She knows she doesn’t belong at Vanguard Magazine, but she tries her best because if you work there for a year then you can work wherever you want. So she wears pink haute couture dresses and does everything Trinity asks her. But Alaska is lonely at work, and declines every invitation from her colleagues. Because Vanguard’s Alaska is not the real Alaska.

SUPERSONIC – WORK OF ART

“Alaska?” Trinity Taylor’s voice sounded metallic and sassy through the intercom “Can you please come back to my office?” The blonde girl sighed, looking at her lunch box. She longed for her homemade egg fried rice since that morning – and her boss was ruining that precious moment. And why the hell was Trinity calling her through the intercom if the only thing that separated them was a glass wall?! She screamed every day, 24/7, but she had to play the bitch role with her through an intercom. Alaska shrugged, looked at her reflection in the mirror in her desk and checked if her ponytail was still up and tight (and of course it was) and headed towards her boss’s studio. “What is it?” she asked as she approached the door. She put on her face the brightest of her smiles, but something in the way Trinity was looking at her lunch made Alaska think that she’s going to scream in a minute. “I should be the one who asks question – what is it?” she asked, pointing at her bowl. “It’s the acai bowl you asked…?” “I asked for an acai bowl with tropical fruits” she lifted the spoon “Since when a raspberry is a tropical fruit?” Alaska tried her best not to insult her. Mangos, raspberries… who cares? Probably she was going to threw them up within a handful of minutes “The cafeteria run out of tropical fruits and I thought that berries were- “ “Well, my dear Alaska, I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to get me an acai bowl with tropical fruits” Trinity raised an eyebrow resentfully and pushed the bowl away from her sight “I’m done with lunch today” she sentenced. The clicking of Alaska’s heels sounded really loud as she approached Trinity’s desk and took with her the bowl. She dared to raise another smile but Trinity wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. Trinity made Alaska sighing at least twenty times per day. “What a fucking waste” she breathed as she threw the bowl.

Alaska paid a shit-ton of money for the art school and she was regretting it. In her college days she wanted to write about her fashion sense and art and a bunch of shits for a magazine. She didn’t care for what magazine – just an important one with a budget high enough to pay for her journeys. Almost everyone in her class wanted the internship at Vanguard Magazine, but in the end Alaska and her straight A’s won – and she didn’t even ask that place. “It’s a great opportunity, Miss” her professor said pleased “a year in Vanguard Magazine and then the world” she joked. When the internship ended, Trinity was so pleased about Alaska’s work that offered her a place as her personal assistant “My last assistant was dumber than lobster bait and spent her time counting calories. But you are naturally extremely skinny, don’t you?” Trinity smiled at Alaska’s nod “The paycheck is good, and the work room is full of those pastel dresses you like so much that you can have” added Trinity, emphasizing the words ‘pastel dresses’ with a disgusted tone. Alaska smiled as she stretched her dress’s folds. Yes, she wanted to be a journalist. She wanted to write about art and fashion and a bunch of shits. But a bunch of shits don’t pay the rent “All the dresses I want?” she tried. “As long as you don’t raid Bianca’s atelier” it was the first (and apparently last) time that Alaska heard a joke from Trinity “You will always stand by my side. Which means that if you look ugly, I’ll tell you and I will make you change and-” “I’m in” Alaska cut off the conversation. Alaska saw the same pleased smile that her professor had months ago in Trinity’s face. From that moment on, Alaska filled her wardrobe with expensive dresses and her mind with stylists’ names. She was about to finally starting eating when Detox’s assistant showed up “Are you busy tonight?” asked at point-blank range. Alaska looked at her for a full minute before replying. That woman looked bored. Of course she was bored – being the assistant of someone who clearly doesn’t need an assistant must have been stressful. As much as having three x in her own name. “Emh…” whimpered Alaska, trying to buying time “Yes. Yes, I’m sorry – but I already have something scheduled.” Roxxxy sighed while she tucking her hair behind the ears “Ok Alaska, I’ll try to make it clear. * I know you started working here recently, and so you might be a bit intimidated. But you can’t turn down all our invitations. We, all of us, are trying to be your friends” she pointed out “We – the assistants – have to group together, support each other. Otherwise working here will be like working in hell” Alaska looked up – to her, Vanguard was hell already “I know and I’m so, so sorry. But really, I can’t tonight. Maybe next week?” Alaska tried her best to look apologetic, but Roxxxy didn’t seem the kind of woman who takes a pity – especially because Alaska said the same thing a week before. And the week before that. “Sure” she answered before leaving. The blonde breathed a sigh of relief and finally she could focus on her meal. Not that she thought that Roxxxy and her clique were bad people – well, maybe they were, deep down she didn’t even know them. But she wasn’t interested in making new friends. She was well aware of the existence of the ‘assistants’ clique’, in which Roxxxy Andrews played Queen Bee’s role – but to Alaska’s ears sounded like the dumbest thing in the world. They weren’t in high school anymore.

Alaska was really careful not mixing her career life with her private one. Her work at Vanguard Magazine would have lasted for a year, maybe two. She didn’t want to be involved in that world made of excessively expensive dresses and calories reduced at bare minimum. She didn’t want to be subsumed in that crazy world, she was in it enough for her own tastes.   So Alaska built up a character – she needed an armor to protect herself. Always dressed in pink tones (which she chose because she knew Trinity absolutely hated that color), always extremely efficient but at the same time extremely lonely. A nerdy Barbie. Alaska often joked with her friends about how that job was more like an acting game to her, but her longtime friend Jinkx could tell Alaska was always stressed as hell, and now and then asked her why she accepted that job in first place. Alaska has never really had a proper answer to her – she didn’t want to reply with the truth.   Everything she knew was that she needed that job to be someone in the future. That’s what she was (always) thinking about – the future Alaska. And it didn’t matter if present Alaska has to work for the place she deposited the most, wearing hideous dresses and swallow some bitter pills. The only thing she could (at least) do was being disagreeable, so no one would have talked to her – and she was being successful, apart from the continuous Roxxxy’s invitations.  

After leaving work at 6p.m., Alaska stopped at the restaurant in front of her house and bought a takeaway curry udon bowl. For a moment she thought about scolding herself – she was definitely too much into oriental food, but then she remembered one of the reasons Trinity hired her. She was naturally skinny, she can have rice for lunch and udon for dinner and still looking freakishly gorgeous. Or at least freakishly skinny.  Suck it, assistants’ clique. With the bowl in her hands she crossed the street and entered her house’s building. She didn’t lie to Roxxxy – she had something scheduled for the night. Even if that meant eating everything she could find in the pantry and watching late night trash TV’s programs. As she put the key in her flat’s door, she heard a feeble meow from the other side “Ehy, Hairspray” Alaska smiled as soon as a little black fur ball came to cuddle against her legs “Are you ready for our night?” She put the udon bowl on the table and picked up the kitten, who replied at her affection by purring. The first thing she did when she entered her bedroom was throwing ungracefully away her shoes and bag (and by doing that gesture she imagined Bianca shouting “They’re MiuMiu, you ungrateful cunt!”) and finally Vanguard Magazine’s Alaska got replaced by the real Alaska. Yes, because Trinity wasn’t the only one who hated the pink color. While Vanguard Alaska loved pink and tight buns, the real Alaska loved the color black and messy big hair. At work she was quiet, polished – almost unremarkable, but deep down Alaska loved attending concerts dressed in nothing but a bra and a cut-off jeans and hopefully flirting with one of the band member (in which she often didn’t succeed, though). She enjoyed drinking cold beers and watching horror movies. And art, of course. She was, basically, an outsider – a freak. The real Alaska was someone the girls at Vanguard could easily made jokes about, like the ‘cool people’ did during her high school years – that’s why she didn’t want them to know her. After all, as she repeated herself every morning before leaving her flat “It’s just a year”

She was watching without putting too much attention a stupid reality on TV while eating her udon bowl. A bit of curry sauce fell into the sofa and Hairspray tried to lick it “No, no, no, no” Alaska scold him. She was going to go back to eat when the phone notified a new message incoming, which made Hairspray hissing “Calm down tiger – it’s just the phone” smiled Alaska, looking at the message. [Jinkxy 🔮✨, 8.12p.m.] Girl. What are you doing tonight? Alaska typed “Chocking to death” but she didn’t want to sound that melodramatic. So she cancelled the message and replaced it with a vague ‘Nothing’. [Jinkxy🔮✨, 8.14p.m.] Ivy and I are going to a vernissage in Williamsburg. Wanna join? She blew air out of her cheeks. She was already in her pajama, but she had a terrible day at work and really wanted to see her Jinkxy again. Alaska looked at her kitten “What would you do in my place, Hairspray?” she asked, hoping for a reply – but the cat just licked his paws “Sure” she rolled her eyes. Her phone rang again. [Jinkxy 🔮✨, 8.17p.m.] Come on, free booze and art… isn’t that so Alaska?!

An hour later Alaska reached for the couple. It didn’t take long for her to get ready – usually she just wore the first things that came out from the wardrobe, and every time she managed to make them work. The taxi left her in front of a former factory. Alaska rolled her eyes – reusing an abandoned factory for a vernissage? How original. At the entrance, the black sing with silver letters featured a single word. Needles. Her mind was elaborating a witty comment about that name’s choice, but her attention got caught by her friend’s voice “Lasky!” Alaska walked towards them with her arm crossed in her chest, the cold breeze made her legs shaking – November in NYC wasn’t suit for short leather skirt. “It’s so intriguing, isn’t it?” asked Ivy with a smile, referring to the event. Ivy was so optimistic and pure and genuine that gave Alaska cavities. Plus, she truly believed Alaska was a really talented art critic – and always asked what her impressions were. Flattering, but annoying. “Let me guess… New Gothic art?” asked ironically Alaska. She didn’t want to sound bored, but since she saw Ivy’s expression falling she added “I think it’s great!” The blonde watched her friends heading towards the building. She despised that kind of art since the day she studied it in her college years. But a lot of her friends thought she was into those gothic arts – wearing black dresses didn’t help that much, though. She sighed and followed them. The room was extremely big – even if the paints were enormous, they kind of disappeared framed to the wall. She instantly grabbed a glass of Prosecco and walked towards the paints. “Weber” she said softly after looking closer at a couple of them. “What?” “Nothing” Alaska shrugged “Those paints remind me of an artist I studied at school” she explained, tossing the glass in her hand. “Easy, girl!” joked Jinkx. “Round two?” Alaska asked ignored her friend. She couldn’t like the paintings, but she could get drunk at the expense of this Needles. Jinkx smiled softly – she always gave Alaska that condescending smile that made her feel very little “Stay. I’ll go” she offered after few seconds. Ivy excused herself soon after “I’m going to powder my nose” she said playfully. And Alaska was left alone. Alaska stayed still in front of a paint. They were all black, or white – some of them had a splash of burgundy paint but that was all. Maybe they weren’t that bad but God, she hated New Goth art so much. As if those artists didn’t have enough creativity to produce something new.   “What to you think?” asked a voice behind her. At first Alaska jumped at the voice “Well,” she started with her usual slowness “What can I say? It is clear to me the tribute to Marnie Weber’s collages – even if those ones are darker and more decadent. Maybe a bit too pushed, I’d say. But what concerns me (yes, concerns) is the artist’s name. What kind of stage name is ‘Needles’? it’s pretentious as fuck. I bet if we’d ask him some explanations he’d talk our ear off about Sid Vicious and Sex Pistols. Like, we get it – you’re a punk/Goth/rebel and so on. Relax kid, your name is as anonymous as your works” she threw all those words up as alcohol after a shots’ night. The feminine and high voice behind her laughed out loud “I bet you’re right. I thought I was the only one that saw something about Weber inside there – yet I was wrong.” Alaska turned around and for the first time and saw to whom that voice belonged. She was a woman with extremely harsh features, her hair was half white and half black – like Cruella de Vil. And yet, throughout it all (that dark attitude, her thin figure and that strange hair), Alaska found her extremely beautiful. “Hi” she found herself babbling. “Hi, I’m Sharon” said the other holding out her hand. Her smile reminded a grin. “Alaska” replied the blonde, shaking that thin hand weakly. Trinity scolded her a million times for how Alaska shook hands “a strong shake means confidence” her boss always repeated her – but in that moment Alaska could barely remember how people do shake hands. “So, Alaska – would you like to keep on talking about it?”

Jinkx was coming back with two glasses of Prosecco, when she saw her friend talking with someone she has never seen before. “Who is she?” whispered Ivy in Jinkx’s ear, as curious as her friend. The redhead shrugged “I don’t know” admitted as she and gave Ivy the glass that was meant to be Alaska’s “Hopefully we’ll see Alaska again at the end of the night”

The conversation between Alaska and Sharon went ahead and their constant chat disturbed people in the room whose (in Alaska’s surprised) seemed to really like the paintings. So they moved towards the balcony, not until they got a new glass of Prosecco. Alaska played her fingers on the lip of the glass, waiting for Sharon to speak again. “So, what do you do for living?” Sharon finally asked. For a moment Alaska thought about lying to her. She could set a stupid lie like “I’m a salesgirl at American Apparel” and everyone would have bought it, but eventually she went for the truth “I work at Vanguard Magazine” “The one full of anorexic models?” “Yes, exactly” Alaska gave up defending the magazine month’s ago. Whenever someone made jokes about how skinny and sick their models were Alaska just nodded. She didn’t care. “And you?” Sharon smiled as she took a sip of Prosecco “Let’s say I work in the field of art” “You’re so lucky” said Alaska recklessly looking at the city lights in front of her. “Ehy, your job is about art too” said Sharon quickly as she catches Alaska’s glance “I do really believe that fashion is an art” added. Alaska sighed. Maybe Bianca and her clothes were doing art. Maybe Detox and her team. But booking Trinity’s appointments and bringing her lunch wasn’t so artsy “Today my boss scolded me because in her lunch – an acai bowl, which I find disgusting – there were berries and not tropical fruits. Where’s the artistic part in all of this?!”   “Quit your job then” said out of the blue Sharon. It was so obvious to her she couldn’t believe Alaska hasn’t thought about it yet. “A year there and then I can work wherever I want” it was the first time that Alaska repeated her mantra to someone else – someone who wasn’t her kitten Hairspray. Maybe because talking about her problems to a stranger was easier than to Jinkx – that’s why people go to psychologists. Sharon realized she hit a nerve and soften her tones “I’m sure you are full of potential, and that you don’t need to spend a year at Vanguard if this makes you sad. In a way or another you’ll succeed, and you’ll get your dream job” she said, pinching softly one of Alaska’s cheek. “Do you believe it?” the blonde shivered at the gesture, and shivered even more when Sharon’s hand moved from her cheek to her bicep, stroking it gently. It was a new, strange feeling. She couldn’t believe the absurdity of the situation – a stranger was comforting her. A stranger that was definitely turning her on. “I know it” Sharon reassured her “You should have heard yourself talking about Marnie Weber and those works. You’re passionate, brilliant and smart. That’s what you are – you just have to fight for what you really want” Alaska really wanted to believe Sharon and not being scared about her future anymore. Being Alaska wasn’t easy – since the day she entered college her life was focused on finding the perfect job and feeling realized. Few friends, almost no relationships and an inexistent social life – she sacrificed her youth for something she didn’t know yet. But in that moment Alaska couldn’t care less about her future, her job, Vanguard or some stupid acai bowl. If there was something she would have fought for in that moment, then that thing was kissing Sharon’s lips painted in black. Her head was filled with questions – kissing a woman? She has never kissed a woman before… will she answer the kiss? What if she’ll reject her and scream? Screw that, Alaska kissed her. It was, by far, the most awkward kiss she has ever had. Because it took a moment for Sharon to answer the kiss, but when she did it Alaska felt her body relax. Literally – she feel into her arms. Sharon tasted like Prosecco and toasted tobacco, even if she didn’t smoke. While Alaska wrapped her arms around Sharon’s angular shoulders, she wondered if she tasted like Prosecco too. “Come with me” whispered Sharon against her lips, leading her back inside. Alaska followed her dutifully.

Alaska found herself trapped between the sink and Sharon’s body. She didn’t even realize they were in the toilet room until she looked away from Sharon’s body, when the latter turned to lock the door. She couldn’t help but stare at the other woman’s back throughout all the way to the toilet – as if everything around her went blur.   As Sharon went back and kissed the blonde deeply, Alaska let out a loud moan. “Quiet” whispered Sharon, closing Alaska’s mouth with her hand “The exhibition is just at the other side of this door” and then she made Alaska sitting on the sink. Sharon didn’t even need to pull Alaska’s dress off, since she wore a ridiculously short leather skirt and no thights (which she thought it was such a brave choice). Without wasting a single moment, Sharon hooked her fingers to Alaska’s panties and pulled them down “Classy” she commented ironically, with Alaska’s pair of red lace panties intertwined in her fingers. The blonde grunted and rested her head against the mirror, breathing heavily as Sharon’s hands moved again towards her thighs, spreading her legs. Usually those kind of things happened on second-rate romantic movies – thought Alaska – the ones in which the protagonist has a one-night stand with a stranger at the very beginning of the film. Those kind of things usually don’t happen to someone like Alaska. She smiled at her own bravado. The last thing Alaska saw before closing her eyes again was Sharon making her way down her body. Sharon was impatient and in a handful of seconds she was licking the other’s girl clit roughly. When she started sucking too, Alaska had to cover her mouth and biting her lips to avoid screaming in pleasure. She was extremely disappointed as she felt Sharon’s mouth pushing away from her. Was she doing something wrong? Was she annoyed by her moans? Alaska opened her eyes and saw Sharon staring back at her, with an evil grin printed on her face.  Definitely Sharon was enjoying it as much as Alaska “Relax, ok? You’re strung tight as a violin” she whispered as she could read her mind. Without a further word, Sharon substituted her mouth on Alaska’s clit with her fingers. She kissed and bite and sucked Alaska’s inner thighs, without taking her eyes off the other girl, who was now placing her legs over Sharon’s shoulders. The blonde’s skin burned under Sharon’s touch. Without any doubts she was leaving marks on her. “S-Sharon… I’m-” Alaska couldn’t add anything else because Sharon inserted a finger in her “Is that what you wanted?” asked panting. Alaska’s moan muffled by her hand was the answer Sharon needed to ear, as she putted other two fingers and moved them inside her partner. Alaska’s body was shaking and Sharon knew she was close, so she thrust more quickly. And she was so, so right – Alaska had to bite one of her hands when she came, the other one rested helplessly on Sharon’s head.

Sharon pulled herself away from Alaska’s body and looked at her own reflection in the mirror, trying to fix her lipstick “I think that those ones belongs to you” she said playfully, giving Alaska her panties back. Alaska’s glance was still on the floor while she wore them again. As her bravado faded away, her cheeks were so red she thought that they would catch on fire. She has never done something like that before. She wasn’t that kind of girl. All that embarrassment didn’t allow her to see what Sharon was taking out from her bra. “By the way” started the latter, giving her a black business card “Marnie Weber’s influence is obvious because she’s the artist I grew up with. Artistically speaking, I mean. Black is a stylistic choice. I don’t look for decadence, it just helps building up a character. And seeing your heavy eye-liner line I’d say it works for you too. Oh, and Needles is really my surname – even if I have to admit I really like Sid Vicious and the Sex Pistols.” Sharon said all of that very slowly, as she previously absorbed Alaska’s cadence, and she seemed to enjoy every single word that left her mouth. On the contrary, Alaska felt the ground beneath her fallen away. Needles, the extra pretentious and dark artist wasn’t a man, but the woman with whom she just had a rendezvous. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She tried to get a word in edgewise but Sharon spoke first “I have to go, you know – I was trying to sell some paintings before a certain blonde here focused all my attention. But in the card I gave you there’s my gallery’s address written – come over when you’re feeling like you want to verbally destroying my work again” and after winking she disappeared. For all that time Alaska’s mouth was wide open – as if she got caught in the act. Well, she was really caught in the act. She waited two minutes before exiting the room. “Here you are!” Jinkx reached her out immediately “I saw you with that spooky girl and the next moment you disappeared! Where the hell have you been?” Before replying, Alaska looked around “Sorry,” she whispered still shocked “I didn’t fell well” Jinkx’s glance was painted with concern “Oh sweetheart, your cheeks are so red… Do you feel like you have fever?” asked, touching her forehead. The blonde shook her head “I think it’s just this place… it’s extremely hot in here! I’ll just hail a taxi and go home” “Are you sure?” asked her friend again, stroking softly her cheek. Jinkx knew how to be so sickly sweet. Not even Alaska’s mother has ever given her so many attentions – and Jinkx wasn’t about to give up “Ivy and I are going to a club… are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Alaska nodded. She needed her home, a hot shower and some cuddles from Hairspray.

Alaska spent the night with her face buried in her hands because of her gaffe. As she entered the taxi she put the black business card with address, email and site written in silver letters inside her wallet. Sooner or later she would have to write to Sharon, or come over her gallery, and she would have to say sorry. That situation also confirmed her biggest fear – she wasn’t ready to write about art. She didn’t even know artists’ faces. Next to her, the kitten slept peacefully. Alaska faced him and stroked gently his fur “My dear Hairspray, we’re going to die alone. Alone and at Vanguard”

The next morning, she arrived at her workplace an hour earlier. She put the most hideous pink tulle dress Bianca gave her and rushed towards the cafeteria. Not even her giant white-framed sunglasses could have covered her dark circles. As she went to the cafeteria and opened her wallet for paying her dark coffee, she noticed the black business card among the receipts. She was bored and she had a spare hour – she decided it was the perfect time to look at Sharon’s works. Alaska came back to her desk and turned her computer on. She ignored all the mails and the notifications from social media and typed Sharon’s website link. For every painting that scrolled down she let out a sigh. Unfortunately, Alaska still didn’t like the New Gothic art – though she started appreciating some of its features. “And what’s this?” Alaska didn’t even heard Trinity as she arrived. Why people loved talking behind her?! “it’s nothing, it’s just…” she tried to justify herself, but Trinity – as always – talked over her “Oh my God. One of those paintings could be the perfect gift for my goddaughter’s birthday. You know, she’s in that phase of every teenager’s life in which she’s obsessed with vampires and all those soft porn bullshits” Alaska imagined a little Trinity reading Fifty Shades of Grey, and did her best not to laugh. “Go to the gallery of this… Needles? – well, what a strange name, – and buy the most gothic paint you can find” stated Trinity, giving Alaska’s her wallet “There’s the checkbook inside. Any price will be fine” Alaska gasped “But-” “But what?” “That is not supposed to be my job” replied puffing her cheeks. “You are paid to be my assistant” said Trinity scornfully “If I want one of those paint, then you’re going to buy me one of those paint. Understood?” she threw her bag on Alaska’s desk “Put this in the wardrobe and don’t waste my time anymore” “Breathe, breathe, breathe” Alaska repeated to herself while sit in the back seat of a taxi, heading towards Sharon’s gallery. The taxi driver looked at the blonde dazed, but Alaska was too worried for guarantee her mental stability to a complete stranger. As she got out of the taxi she found herself in front of a gallery as so many others in Williamsburg, with one of the paintings in the window and nothing more showed. Before entering Alaska peeked into the inside – the furniture was black as the walls, the only point of lights were the light bulbs that enlightened every single piece of art and a computer screen that was hiding a girl with orange hair. Alaska breathe with relief. Maybe that was a shared gallery, and she was one of the other artists. Or maybe she was a salesgirl. But that girl wasn’t Sharon for sure. “Welcome!” said the orange head as soon as Alaska crossed the threshold “Oh, did you miss me already?” Alaska was mistaken – for sure “My boss saw me looking through your website and now she wants one of your work for her goddaughter’s birthday” explained rashly (which was unexpected even for herself speaking so fast), looking down at her MiuMiu’s pink satin sandals. She shivered at the thought that she was wearing a pink dress – what would have Sharon thought about her in that moment? Sharon looked up and down the blonde and then smiled “Sure. Please, have a round” she said as she brought her attention back to her computer. Alaska started looking at the paintings as she did the day before. She was glad Sharon didn’t ask her why she was looking at her website. For a moment that seemed last forever, the only sound that could be heard in the room was Alaska’s clicking of heels. Then, Sex Pistol’s Pretty Vacant echoed from the speakers. Definitely not a coincidence. “You look good in pink” started Sharon as she approached Alaska. The blonde smirked “And you in orange” Sharon run her hands through her hair “What can I say? Tonight when I came back home I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to dye my hair” she moved a hand in Alaska’s hip “I couldn’t sleep because I still was so excited” she explained, whispering in her ear. “About that” rushed Alaska, freeing herself from the other’s woman grip “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said all those mean things about your art. Pretty rude of me” and before Sharon could add anything, she continued “I’ll take this” she said looking the price tag framed next to the paint she chose. Sharon nodded and went back to her computer “Have a sit, I have to write the bill” she pointed at the empty seat at the other side of her desk “Would you like something to drink?” Alaska shook her head “I should come back to Vanguard soon” she said. She sat still and rested her hand on her knees. She has never felt so nervous before, and her posture made it pretty clear.   “I hoped you had already quitted your job” breathed Sharon as she wrote the bill “I really meant what I said yesterday” “I’m halfway my goal” said automatically Alaska. She lost the count of how many times she said that line to herself. “Ok” acquiesced Sharon as she pulled the bill out of the pad “Then, that makes 1300 dollars” “But in the price tag…” started Alaska, but Sharon cut her off. “Yeah, the price tag says 1200 dollars. But since you don’t want to want to quit this hideous job, your boss owns you at least a proper lunch” she grabbed her coat, the bag and the keys “Come on. I’ll promise that where we’re going they don’t serve acai bowls” she joked. A grin appeared in Alaska’s face as she wrote the check. She quickly grabbed her bag and reached Sharon, who was keeping the door open for her “And I promise I won’t read your work today” she said playfully as Sharon closed her gallery. “Oh sweetheart” Sharon titled her chin up and brushed her thumb against the blonde lips “with this cute mouth of yours you can do everything you want”  

* Yeah sorry guys – I had to.

[approachingmindfulnessblog]

Day 3 - Veganism/Minimalism/Zero Waste Don’t Have To Be Just For the Wealthy and Privileged

These are three movements I’m taking part in, whether its as a full participant(Veganism) or someone just starting to think about giving it a try(Minimalism and Zero Waste living). I’m seeing a lot of comments, mostly here on Tumblr, about how all three are really hard from people from minority groups, and everything is too expensive and time consuming and geared towards wealthy and able-bodied white people. 

I want to start by saying, I understand where all these people are coming from. There is definitely a culture among bloggers and especially YouTubers of showing off their superior and very expensive fancy equipment for making expensive and complicated vegan, no waste meals, or spending large sums of money on fancy glass jars for storing a year’s worth of some obscure food item bought in bulk. I understand: bulk is pricy, fair trade is pricey, reusable containers and some vegan foods are pricey.

But this frustrates me so much, because neither Veganism nor Minimalism, nor even Zero Waste have to be pricey. They can be. The afore-mentioned gurus are choosing to live their own pricey ‘flavor’ of these lifestyles. 

Minimalism

Take Minimalism, which in my opinion is the easiest for all people to adopt. It’s true, not everyone can afford to go out and buy a new wardrobe that consists of super high quality items that will last a decade, especially right of the bat. But anyone can challenge themselves to stop mindlessly buying things and chasing trends. Anyone can have No Shopping days. Anyone can purge their closet by selling and donating items they don’t use or enjoy. Anyone can clear out their junk drawer, and their folders and their cabinets and under their bed. Anyone can sell or donate duplicates of items that are unlikely to be needed. Anyone can delete old photos and documents they don’t care about off their phone and computer. Anyone can ask themselves why they have 25 drinking glasses if they have only a maximum of 6 people over at once. Anyone can decide to get rid of knickknacks and any stuff that’s not adding value to their life. Anyone can choose to make an effort to stop multitasking unnecessarily and be more mindful and aware of the present moment. Anyone can attempt to cut out extraneous unhealthy relationships.

These are things that go back to the roots of Minimalism, and focus on the goal of valuing relationships with people rather than stuff, and appreciating the few things we do own because we know they actually add value to our lives. None of these tips cost money, and in fact many of them could earn you a little bit of money or save you a lot of money in the long run. What’s more, if you save this money as it adds up (and I’m finding that it adds up fast -- I’ve challenged myself not to purchase anything for 3 months and slowly purge my closet at the same time, and I’m amazed, if slightly horrified, to see that in the first three weeks I’ve saved literally hundreds of dollars by eliminating my mindless shopping habit. I actually have savings for the first time in a long time), when your clothes finally do truly just give out, as fast fashion pieces are bound to do, you now have money saved up that you could spend on a replacement item that is ethically made and of high quality, if you so chose. Bam. You just paid someone a fair wage and you may not have to buy a replacement item again for at least a decade. THAT is how you use Minimalism to benefit yourself and simultaneously make a positive change in the world. Feel like these more expensive items of clothing will never be within your budget? That’s ok! Stick to buying second hand. One side effect of our fast fashion society is a lot of excess clothing that ends up in thrift shops, and its often still in good shape for a hugely discounted price, and when you buy second hand you know no energy or resources are being wasted to make you new clothes. And if you need to buy new clothes to look professional at work, there’s no shame in that. Do what you gotta do. 

Veganism

Now I’m definitely no cook, and I’ve been vegan for just 3 weeks, but I’m already well aware that Vegansim has the potential to be LESS expensive than, say, the traditional American diet. What is cheaper than rice and beans?? Not much. Tofu is cheaper than meat, y’all. Nuts aren’t bad either, especially if you can buy them in bulk (and yes, I know, if money if tight for you buying in bulk may not seem like a viable option because it’s more money upfront. It might take the slight reorganization of priorities, but hopefully things like changing your shopping habits to avoid constantly consuming fast fashion, selling things you never use and replacing meat with the less expensive and plant-based tofu will enable you to spend a bit more upfront and save a lot of money in the long run. Still can’t afford to buy 10 pounds of almonds all at once? That’s ok! Try buying from the bulk bins anyway, even if you’re getting the same quantity you would from a package off the shelf. I’ve been reading a lot of grocery stores’ websites today trying to learn about bulk buying for myself, and it sounds like its always cheaper to take this route. There’s online resources available to help you locate bulk sellers near you if your local grocery store doesn’t sell bulk as well!)

In my opinion, many people get too caught up in the pricier vegan mock-animal products and processed options, and they forget that fruits and veggies, whole grains and nuts and legumes, are all healthy and vegan and readily available at decent prices. Now yes, it’s true that some people who are barely scraping buy will spend a few dollars on fast food rather than buy comparatively expensive fresh fruits and veggies. I understand and I don’t judge. If that’s what you need to do to feed your family, no one has the right to shame you for it. But I believe that most people just don’t realize how affordable Veganism can really be. Before my transition to Veganism, while I was doing research, I stumbled upon Plant-Based on a Budget, a website offering tips, recipes, and even a complete vegan meal plan for an entire week, including a grocery list for that meal plan that costs just $25. That’s less than $4 for a day’s worth of healthy vegan food. Take that, McDonalds. 

Zero Waste

I have to say, I think this one is the least accessible of the three. Of course, that doesn’t mean its unaccessible, by any means. Again, I think we need to go back to the ideals of the movement and stop looking at people who’ve spend tons of money to be able to store their waste in a little jar. We call it ‘Zero Waste’, because that is the ideal we are striving for, that is the dream, but we all know that in practical terms, its really about LESS waste. And we can all work on that. We can all opt to go without plastic straws, unplug electronics that aren’t in use, walk or take public transit instead of driving around town, bring our grocery bags back to the store to reuse on the next visit instead of throwing them away, and recycle our plastics (I realize that some people just really don’t have access to recycling or compost in their area, and while that blows and I encourage you to petition your local government, that is by no means your fault and no one should ever shame you for it). Little things add up big over time, and, yes, this is another area in which investments (or just simple creativity! Forget spending money!) can save you lots of money over time. Does your family use paper napkins at the dinner table? Invest in some cheap cloth ones, or better yet, make your own! Hell, you can just cut an old and seldom used t-shirt into large squares. Who cares what you wipe your fingers on. Zero Waste is an area I’m just starting to learn about, but I can see immediately that the resources online are endless. Spend a little time researching cheap hacks like this from creative and inspired people, and ignore the fools that tell you that all your waste from the last decade should fit in the palm of your hand. The point is to create LESS waste, and the only limit is your imagination. 

Now obviously, as a upper-middle class and able-bodied white girl, I’m speaking from a place of privilege. I’ve done my best to think of low-cost ways to participate in the ideals of these movements for anyone who might be interested, and to dispel this stereotype of costliness, but I understand that my experience is different than that of many others, and I’m sure I missed some pretty important things. Please feel free to comment anything I missed or even message me directly about some obstacle in your way as you try to participate in any of these movements, and together we can try and brainstorm a solution. If y’all think I completely fucked up and missed something big, let me know in a constructive way because I’d love to hear about it and talk about it. 

(I’d also like to add that I’ve heard someone say that there isn’t much clothing available in thrift stores and eco-conscious brands in larger sizes. I have definitely seen L and XL in ethical clothing brands, so I have to assume its just a matter of finding the right brands, but I can try to do some research in plus sizes if anyone is interested. I was really surprised to hear that about thrift stores, I guess because I assumed since we all wear clothes all sorts of sizes would end up getting donated, but maybe second-hand buy/selling apps like Poshmark would be a good resource here? I think most of them let you search specifically by size, which can make it much easier for everyone to find clothes that fit them. Just a thought)

[datingadviceonreddit]

Sharing a personal story.I had to do some clothes shopping today as next week I have to meet with some clients and I want to look presentable. A lot of my wardrobe is old and I've also lost some weight this year so a lot of my clothes don't fit me as well. I rarely go shopping for clothes. I tend to buy some high quality stuff once or twice a year and I just keep wearing them until I get bored of them or as in this case, my body changes and I need to find better fit. As I was doing some shopping at the mall where there were a lot of couples, it made me aware how alone I am.I grew up in an Asian household with a typical Asian upbringing. I just want to say I don't blame my parents at all. I think most parents raise their kids with the best knowledge they have currently at the time. I was told from a young age that career is everything. That's because in Asia, it actually IS everything, even when it comes to dating. In societies that are more traditional and poorer, women regard a man's social status and earning prospects more highly. Things like personality and looks take on a secondary importance. That's the kind of thinking my parents ingrained in me.I started my career at age of 23. At around 26, I actually genuinely began to enjoy it. It gave me a sense of purpose and identity. I liked being good at something and receiving praise from others. I began becoming really really career-oriented. It gave me a certain kind of high because I wasn't a self-confident person to begin with. Feeling like I was contributing and valued made me feel good.My mistake was that it's all I was. I thought it was enough for me to be attractive towards other people, especially girls. I didn't flaunt my success like some douche but I can't lie that it always gave me a bit of pride to be the most successful person in my social circle.Besides career, I loved drinking. The two kinda went together in some sorta strange way. Alcohol also helped me socialize and make friends.Ten years go by and I'm now at a very good place in my profession. Except now I feel more lost than ever. I find people don't give a damn. Girls don't give a damn. Friends don't care. Strangers and acquaintances may be impressed for 10 minutes then don't give a damn.Yah it's not like I'm some rock star or something. I'm just another tool in Corporate America who earns a good income doing specialized work. And that's all I am.Last year I was laid off after successfully completing a difficult project. I was surprised at the betrayal. Now, in retrospect, it wasn't anything I did or didn't do. The company was being bought out by a larger company and there was a re-orientation of the business model. And later on I learned half the company was laid off. But I was one of the first to be impacted so at the time I felt like, "what the fuck did I do wrong?"I didn't see it coming. I worked and slaved like a bastard to complete the project. And I did it willingly too. I took great pride in my professionalism and I loved what I did. So it came as a rude shock.I'm lucky in that I landed at my feet. Within a month, I landed a higher position at another company who ironically is an up and rising competitor of my previous company. I'm in a good place right now career wise but the whole experience made me re-think and re-evaluate everything.But I'm 34 years old. I feel like I wasted the best years of my youth. I should have spent the time pursuing my real interests. In your 20s, there's still lots of opportunity to make new friends. I've loved music my entire life. I should have started playing guitar earlier and spent my 20s looking for like-minded music lovers. I would have become a more skilled musician too and maybe even form a band. I should have started ballroom dancing lessons earlier too and started training earlier on which would have made drink a lot less in my 20s and had a better impact on my health.There are many things like the above that I regret I didn't do in the best years. Instead, I wasted it working on stuff that nobody gives a damn about. Most importantly, it's stuff that I no longer give a damn about.I'm still good at what I do but the worst thing is that I care about it less. Right now, I do it because I make good money and the money helps me fuel my hobbies and interests. I can go and buy that guitar pedal or help me fund my dance lessons at the dance school. I'm no longer singularly passionate about my career as an end to itself.I wish I realized this earlier and spent more time exploring my true self.I feel like I've improved a lot. I drink a lot less due to the dancing. I've lost a ton of weight as a result. I'm in better health. I work less hours and so I have more time for things like exercise and practicing music. I also feel like I've become a better person overall too and I think I'm more interesting to other people and to girls. But my social opportunities are less now. I feel that if I become what I am now much earlier in my life when social opportunities were plentiful, I might have found the right woman or at the very least ended up with a better group of friends who had more similar hobbies and interests.I look back on that period of my life and found that I was stupid. I don't blame women for not being interested in me. I was obsessed with my work. I drank a lot of alcohol to the point that I didn't look good and was overweight. And when I drank to excess, I behaved in immature ways that any girl would not find attractive in a potential boyfriend.Except being the idiot that I was, I thought I was the shit because I had a good income and high status professional. Didn't occur to me that I had no personality other than enjoying drinking and talking politics, no sense of humor, no interests or hobbies. I also didn't dress well and my face looked bloated all the time due to the drinking. My skin tone had this strange hue to it. And I was overweight too. I'm already short so being overweight doesn't help.I think this is a quote from the film "Interstellar" or somewhere I forgot but it goes something like humanity is at its best when it passionately leaps into the unknown.That's what I should have done earlier. I should have pursued what I was interested in more instead of listening to my parents. I should have seeked out friends who had similar hobbies and through that maybe even meet a girl who has similar interests.Instead, I buried myself in my work instead of going through the pain of learning to play the guitar and developing the calluses and the pain. I should have learned to dance despite the embarassment. I should have stopped using alcohol as a social lubricant at the expense of my looks and my health. I should have paid more attention to things like working out and exercise. I should have just not been afraid to be myself and to pursue the things I was interested instead of hearing my parents voice in the back of my mind. Not just parents but also what I thought society valued.If I ever have kids, I will never implant in their minds anything that I perceive to be how life works. Instead, I will encourage them to not be afraid to discover yourself and go out and try new things. And to encourage them to not be afraid of failure or social embarassment. I wish my parents planted that seed into me when I was younger. via /r/dating_advice