#hairspray is a Bad Texture feeling to me so i never use it

[queenerdloser]

every once in a while im like. hm. maybe i SHOULD actually attempt to Style My Hair instead of my usual tried and true method (brush it and hope for the best, rawdogging through life without a single hair product in there except the dry shampoo that allows me to hide my greasiness from the world). so im like okay i'll attempt a Hair Product and see how it goes. and much like every other single time ive tried it my hair immediately loathes the product and looks 10000x worse so in the end i just give up and go back to my messy bedhead ways. this is why i cant be trusted with long hair, i would be letting that shit figure itself out every single day of my life.

[nibblelinephym]

man id have to bleach my hair again (bad idea since it took like three rounds of product last time) what id i just got like. uhh i think its like hairwax? like you smear it on and it colours it for a day? that or dry shampoo. i think i have an image of me with dry shampoo in my hair wait ill send it to you

ough i hate the texture of dry shampoo it feels so dry . which is the point i think but still. fair enough though!!! that much bleaching is,, very damaging it might not be the best idea to put your hair through that again gjdkshs,,, ige never heard of hairwax but i think theres like. a hairspray you can buy that colors your hair?? smells so chemically but it works surprisingly well my mom got me like. three cans one year that i never used (because of the smell)

[fanfic-gallery]

Strands of two

✎ Haitani Brothers x Reader

✎ Tags: fluff, headcanons, f! reader

: ̗̀➛ Manger’s/Author’s note: hair-styling headcanons, ‘cause why not? They have pretty hair and you do too! Le gooo~ hope you enjoy! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

*.✦ Ran Haitani

During fights, his grip strength on his baton is hella strong, the metal baton that he carries around now is actually custom made [Rin got it for his birthday!] ‘cause Rindou was just so sick and tired of him just snapping it after a few days of purchase

So you know he’s trying his living hardest to not let loose and rip your scalp off 

Once on autopilot, you better pray he hasn’t forgotten your locks of hair within his hands, you feel a sharp tug, better start screaming before it pierces you harder-

Overall he is quite gentle [he tries to be at least]

His go-to, braids [obviously-] and buns, messy or neat as shit

If you have shorter hair, he uses gel or hairspray to keep the loose strands in place, maybe a braid or two on the sides if its long enough to be tied

Knows a lot about hair products being one that takes care of his hair very religiously [he rather be caught dead then have a bad hair day]

Your little encyclopedia, from most brands to the most efficient way to blow dry hair, he knows it all

But don’t expect this man to dye or even hell trim your hair for you, unless you want to look like a puffy cotton ball, it’s best to leave the styling to him [tried it once, regretted fully, Rindou was laughing his ass off when he saw the monstrosity that was Ran’s hair the next day] 

“aH-”

“Too painfully? This part is a little tricky, you can handle it, right, princess?”

“.. make it quick-”

empty silence

“Can I ask you something.. ”

“Hm?”

“Why rule Roppongi when you have such talent like this?”

“... Hahahah~~”

“Power, the rush of adrenaline, the risk of it all.. it makes me feel like nothing before~”

“Are you worried for me, doll?”

“.. maybe a little...”

“I’m glad.. it’s been quite a while since anyone has said that before.. ”

“That’s why you’re so adorableee~~”

“sTOP- it-!”

*.✦ Rindou Haitani

Has the same problem as his brother, mans grip strength is like of ten men combined, but unlike his brother, he’s a bit of a kluz when it comes to controlling his strength, while Ran can maintain the pressure he puts out, Rindou struggles a little [being so used to snapping ribs and bones, it naturally flows within him]

Thank Heavens he can’t tie hair for the life of him, he mostly trims and cuts with dyeing on the side too [He bleached and dyed his own hair and Ran’s]

Through practice with his hair and maybe Ran’s too [he was slightly still pissed at Rin for chopping his hair off that one time] he is now a natural hairstylist [his current style was once a absolute failure of his that he managed to pull back the last second]

Has a good eye for colour from dyeing his hair [his hair has a rougher texture than of what Ran’s hair would feel like, smooth and glossy, mostly due to him bleaching and ruining his hair in the process]

Handling a blow dryer, scissors, a comb is like second nature to him, every movement is precise yet swift, he literally can trim perfect bangs within minutes

Despite him not being much for hair tying, he still can warp up simple messy buns and loose ponytails [and of course Ran teases him for it, ‘cause he’s the one that ties his hair the most often]

“Stop squirming, or I might just stab your ear off-”

“I wonder how you never became a stylist.. ”

“Like I would with a criminal record on my hands.. ”

“You could at least try to redeem yourself-”

“Like that would ever work.. ”

“Besides, Ran would drag me out of it, laughing at how sluggish I’ve become.. that fucking asswipe.. ”

“You ain’t wrong, but either way you choose, I’d still love you~”

“You really are cheesy, aren’t you-”

“eXCUSE ME??”

[timothy-chamlet]

the afterparty - t.c. fanfic

pair: timmy x female reader

warnings: unprotected sex, general smut

word count: 2.6k (2640)

a//n: ok er ive never written for timmy before so im nervous snsvsj but if you read it tell me what u think !! <3

°•○●○•°

people often thought the two of you were dating. paparazzi tended to make it look that way through press. despite all the candid photos of you and timothée plastered in magazine spreads and floating around on blogs, he would tell people you weren't together. interviewers would ask, and time again he would put an end to the rumor by saying you weren't dating, you were just friends. 

to be fair, you honestly couldn't even be mad at him. it was a good marketing tactic, at least. if all the girls knew he was single they'd still be invested in the persona of a young, attractive starlet that - despite his more than desirable qualities - is still single. genius. meanwhile you were being his best friend and his trophy for award shows. 

it was growing on you though. you enjoyed walking red carpet events and going to extravagant parties and meeting big names in the industry. it was really a win-win for both of you. 

another one of those win-win situations was tonight. the past three days had been crazy. hair appointments, nail appointments, dress fittings, photoshoots, brunches, and dinners. running each new day on an hour of sleep - maybe two if you were lucky. fueled by energy drinks and the promise of rest after the event. showing up to an awards ceremony on nothing more than a 20 minute nap and a double shot espresso. being timothée's showpiece was exhausting. but it was good for you. 

you had just finished your last consultation for dress fittings and were on your way to your styling appointment. the dress would arrive shortly after you so everything was ready to go. things were set for timothée to meet you there in an hour or so, after his own styling. 

currently you're getting your makeup done. a swarm of professionals all around you, handing products, giving directions, telling you how gorgeous you look, at least three hands on you at all times. after almost an hour all the disembodied hands move from your face to reveal the *almost* finished product. you still need your hair done, but your face was flawless. your skin was insanely smooth; not a pore in sight, your lids were a bronze shade, and your lips were a perfect nude. 

a hair stylist soon steps into view, also admiring your makeup before diving into your hair. it was simple. a slicked back ponytail is all, careful not to draw away from your face and your dress. 

the strong aroma of hairspray clouds you as you maneuver to step into your dress. stripped of your previous clothes, you step into your dress and a couple people help you pull it up. the woman attending to the supper in the back steps away for a moment, seeming to answer a question. 

"what's his name?" she asks into her ear piece. "uh yes. she's in here with me. send him in."  

she returns behind you and does up the zipper to your dress. to your surprise, you see timothée waltz in the room. dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a light lavender button up underneath. "y/n," he exhales, walking towards you. "you look breathtaking, ma chérie." 

"you don't look too bad yourself, timmy," you say, stepping down from your pedestal to be almost eye level with him.

"is she done here?" he asks everyone around without taking his eyes off you. 

one of the women there swoops in with a pair of shoes and says, "slip in to these and you're ready to go, darling." 

you step into your shoes and link arms with timothée. "carriage awaits," he says as the two of you get escorted to the limo. 

once inside you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. "you okay?" he asks from beside you. 

"yeah, just.. tired." 

he chuckles and drops his head. "absolutely exhausted." you two had similarly scheduled days so he knows exactly how you feel. "don't worry, mon amour, i'll have you home in about 8 hours." 

"i thought the awards show was only 4-" 

"there's always the afterparty.." 

you audibly groan and drop your head as timothée places a reassuring hand on your knee. 

"we're here," he says with fake enthusiasm as the limo pulls up to the event. the past 45 minutes felt like hours as your head began to pound from the lack of sleep. yet, lucky you, 45 minutes in l.a. traffic was a miracle. 

the two of you step out into the scene. flashing lights from camera flickers, the general buzz of the crowd, people you knew trying to get your attention, people timothée knew trying to get his attention. being the kind person he is, he doesn't shy away from fans calling his name. he walks over to give high fives, say hi, sign things, and really interact with the people that are so invested in his career. you look at him with a fond smile on your face as he greets  people.  

"timothéeeee," you both hear and turn around to match the loud booming voice to a face. 

"armieee!!" he yells in response, hurrying over to hug his co-star. 

you stand idly by as the two hug and catch up. fiddling with your ponytail and the skirt of your dress. until that same voice catches your attention. 

"bring it in hot stuff!" 

"hey, armie! how've you been, handsome?" you two had only met a handful of times, but it's like your souls clicked instantly. he had kept in touch since the first time you met and you guys had been pretty close ever since. 

"oh i’m doing great. really. just excited for this evening. can't wait to see how many awards lil' tim brings in," armie ends with a light laugh before timothée chimes in. 

"oh god no-" 

a cheery voice interrupts the conversation. 

"helloooo," armie's wife says in a sing-song voice and joins his side. "nice to see you again, y/n. and congrats timmy on your nominations." 

you and timothée nod in response and utter small, nervous 'thank you's' before armie excuses the two of them, promising to catch up later. 

"well, well, well- this is it, timmy." you say from your seat next to him. the host reads the nominees for best breakthrough of the year, and timothée's name is mixed in with so many other talented actors. he nervously puts his hand over yours. "you are absolutely amazing. everyone knows that. you're gonna get it." he looks at you and you pass him a reassuring smile. 

"and the award for best breakthrough goes to… timothée chalamet!" 

his head shoots up in shock. cameras pan around him and his baffled expression appears on huge screens behind the stage. he slowly stands from his seat and makes his way to the stage. making a beautiful speech, thanking almost everyone he's ever known. giving gratitude to everyone he's ever worked with, his parents, and his best friends. he comes off the stage and returns to his seat beside you. a year runs down his cheek, and you move to wipe it away, but he grabs your hand away from his cheek only to press his lips to your knuckles. "thank you for always believing in me." 

"you're an amazing actor and an even better friend. 

the night was nearing an end. people were saying their goodbyes and their 'see-you-soon's and going their separate ways. you and timothée walk out of the event, arms linked, with his hands tightly gripping his award. the smile never leaves his face. "i can't fucking believe that, y/n."

"you did it, timmy! all you and your hard work. lemme pick a nice spot on your shelf for it yeah?" 

"i was thinking about sitting it on my dresser right above the drawer full of your shit you keep leaving at my house," he says with a barely visible smirk. 

"oh, well if it's such a problem," you begin "i guess I'll just have to come get my 'shit' then?" you finish sarcastically. 

"oh! how dare you?" he begins to shout, going on a tirade similar to that of hamlet; overly dramatic and mostly nonsensical. "leave them be! small, small remnants; reminders of thee." he trails off softly, dropping his head to your shoulder and bringing his other hand up to trail his fingertips down the side of your face. 

you can't help but chuckle at this. "bravo timothée! amazing performance." 

he straightens up before taking a bow and returning to his previous position on your shoulder. "do you wanna skip the afterparty?" 

"and do what, tim? i thought you were gonna catch up with armie?" 

"i dunno- go to my place?" 

you nod your head, and timothée let's the driver know to just go to his house. 

you get out of the car in front of his apartment, quickly thank the driver, and dash inside; excited to remove the day. "can i shower?" you ask quickly already making your way upstairs.

"oui, mon trèsor, make yourself at home. ill be up in a while." it was almost as if he had it scripted. a routine more or less. you'd ask to shower - despite him telling you almost each time you never had to ask - and go up stairs to do so; him trailing along about an hour later behind you. 

you finish your shower earlier than planned so you decide to lay on his bed until he comes up. you let your freshly washed body relish in the textures of the cotton t-shirt and shorts you're wearing and the damp-cool feel of the comforter on his bed. 

you're not left alone for long before he darts up the stairs and into his room, catching your attention. you watch as he walks around, dropping various articles of his clothing haphazardly on his floor. left in only his boxers. 

"timmy?" you ask in a drawn out voice. 

"hm?" he asks lowly in response; his eyes trained on you. you don't respond to his muffled question and instead watch as he comes to lean over the foot of the bed, by your legs. "i've been thinking," he continues, "a lot recently. about us.." 

"us?-" 

"about what the media thinks we are. what the people say. the blog posts, the tweets. i read it all… what do you think about it, y/n?" he ends with a light sigh, making drawing light swirls on your leg. 

"i dunno really. i've never thought much about it," you say sitting up. 

he moves up from his place in front of the bed, crawling up to sit to the right of your legs. knees drawn up to his chest, eyes meeting yours. he raises his hand so his fingertips ghost the curve of your cheek. "you never think about.. the possibility of us?" he pauses as his eyes drift from yours. hands falling to his lap as he scoots even closer to you. you sit stunned, not knowing how to answer as if it was some rhetoric instead of a simple question. filling the silence, he continues. "i think about how different things would be if we were together. what it would be like to hold you and kiss you and- can i kiss you?" 

his voice wavers as his eyes meet yours yet again. with quick movements, he moves to straddle your legs, both hands resting lightly on either side of your face. 

"can i kiss you?" he asks again, his face millimeters from yours. 

you shake your head yes as your eyes fluttering closed, your lips brushing against his as you move. 

he plants his lips firmly on yours. innocent at first, but the kiss quickly gets deeper. more desperate, his hands moving from the sides of your face to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back giving him access to your neck. his lips dance around the skin of your neck, being careful not to leave any marks. “is this okay?” he whispers, dragging his hands from your hair to the hem of your shirt. 

you nod your head vigorously and he pulls your shirt up and over your head, throwing it to the floor with his clothes. you lean back and give timothee free reign of your chest and stomach. he makes his way from your neck down and across your chest. your hands rush to knot in his hair as he takes a nipple in his mouth, carefully flicking his tongue across the hardening bud before doing the same to the other. 

"timmy.." you breathe out as he leaves your chest and explores lower. his eyes meet yours as his teeth come into contact with the flimsy waistband of your sleep shorts. "please," you whisper. 

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs; eyes going wide when he sees you have nothing underneath. 

"so pretty," he whispers almost to himself as he throws your shorts in his floor with the rest of your guys' clothes. he runs his finger along your slit, collecting some of your wetness, tasting it. laying back down with your legs over his shoulders, he hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. he runs his tongue along your folds and you arch your back in response. he sucks on your clit making you squirm and tangle your fingers tighter in his hair, pushing against his face, eager for more. 

"tim-... timmy," you beg.

timothée kisses his way back up your body. "hm?" he hums softly beside your ear only for you to utter another weak 'please' in response. 

"please… please what, mon amour?" 

"baise moi.." you didn't know much french. you had picked up on a few of timothée's most used phrases, but this you hadn't learned from him, so it caught him off-guard. stuck in a moment of shock. hearing you say something so dirty in french felt so strangely intimate; you didn't have to ask him twice. 

he slips his boxers, finally accompanying you in nakedness, and slips into you, moaning at the feeling of you around him. 

"fuck.. timmy-" you groan as he picks up his pace. he coos sweet nothings into your ear while drilling into your core. 

his head drops to your chest and the soft, sweet praises slowly turn into obscenities. "merde," he groans, picking up his pace even more. holding himself at arms length above you, he throws his head back; lips parted in pure bliss. 

you lift one of your hands to trail down timothée's torso. you lazily drag your fingertips across his chest and down to his stomach. the pleasure building inside you, your hand finds its way to your clit. “timmy... fuck! ple- please don’t stop. fuuuuuck!” 

“défaire pour moi, y/n.” you didn’t think french could ever drive you to orgasm, but when it came from timothé anything was possible. you convulse around him as your wave of pleasure washes over you. timothée reaching his own peak soon after, pulling out and emptying on your stomach. he quickly finds something to clean you up with before plopping down on the bed beside you. many silent moments pass - nothing but heavy breaths leaving either of you - before he speaks up. “you know,” he begins in a soft whisper, “i felt bad- like i was using you. just to go to events with me. i know you don’t really like them but-” 

you cut him off and turn to face him. “i might hate going to those award shows, but they’re a little less bad with you around.” 

he breaks into a wide smile and pulls you closer, putting his head on your stomach. "mon amour, je t'ai toujours aimé." you reach down to play with his curls and begin to drift off on your way to sleep. 

[thesevenumbrellas]

Hi. Just want to submit an opinion (well, analysis) about the wigs and styling in s2 since everyone is talking about it on your blog.

I've worked with wigs a lot for years now, both because of cosplay and because I often work as makeup artist and model, specifically in the alt and pin-up/retro scene. I've done a LOT of vintage pin-up modelling and live shows inspired in the 40s, 50s and 60s.

So, I can tell you the s2 wigs are actually really good in general, they just aren't always properly styled for the specific actors wearing them and in some cases they got a like too ambitious with characterization and choose something that wasn't feasible in the long run (*cough* Swedes*cough*) but hoped we wouldn't notice. Not everything was perfect but most people are looking at the wrong things.

The lacefronts the Swedes wore are particularly tricky and weren't properly glued to the hairline (which, fair, with fibers that pale it's very hard to hide the natural hair and look real at the same time without bleachin the actors' natural hairs). Axel's style choice in particular was a big faux pas, with something that pale you don't want the hair combed back like that. So yeah, we can nitpick at those but I honestly feel bad for the styling department when it comes to the Swedes.

Klaus's guru beard was sooooo sketchy, I've worked with beard prosthetics (on other people) for cosplay and that one did in fact tick me off (should have just covered his actual beard with a fake instead of trying extensions, ugh) but it didn't last long so I'm trying not think about it...

The extensions for Klaus's long hair are actually really good quality but in the first episodes there was a small failure in hair texture- Robert's hair has a natural curl that makes it bushier and coarser when straightened and the extensions, even teased, were too straight and flat to blend in naturally, they probably looked really good right off the styling chair but a few hours into filming the coarseness of his natural hair definitely started to stand-out, it was a bad stylistic choice, they should have stuck with curls all around. However, in later episodes they corrected this by just giving everything some messy curl and it worked better. It wasn't a case of bad wig, it's a case of lack of foresight.

Diego's hairstyle was pretty good for the time period but failed in the sense that he'd never be able to grow that much hair in three months, his specific s1 short hair would make him standout a lot in the 60s but they failed to have timing into account. I don't think this was a styling department fail though, I suspect Diego was supposed to arrive MUCH earlier in the original script and they must have changed it halfway through production and just didn't bother to change the hair because they probably had already started filming and just thought nobody would notice.

Also, we have to have time period in account- young Klaus had the perfect 2006 emo hair, sparrow!Ben is not actually wearing wig, that's his real hair just styled in a terrible mid-2000s look with too much hair wax...

But let me talk about my specialty as someone who works in the pin-up circuit:

Handler's wigs are perfectly coiffed for the 50s/60s looks that she's emulating, even that very obvious fake wig part/seam in her bleached hair with the purple military dress is typical of retro wigs and for her bleached looks it's a necessary evil (more realistic seams and scalp texture wouldn't be able to hide/mesh with her real hair and weren't used in that time period anyway), meanwhile her brunette wigs are actually flawless (and at least one of her brunette looks is not a wig at all). I don't think they were ever trying to pretend that Handler's wigs were her real hair, not with the constant styling changes, so as wigs go they are pretty great.

And finally- Allison. Allison's wigs on s2 are perfect BECAUSE they look exactly like 60s wigs, back then black women couldn't afford (both moneywise and because how damaging the techniques of the time were to their natural hair) to straighten their hair every day, it was too much trouble but the straight look (and the bangs and the beehive) were so in fashion that most black women just wore a specific style of wig on their daily lives, it was a common practice and I think Alison's hair is supposed to reflect that. It's not actually supposed to look like her real hair or a modern wig, if they wanted that they'd do one of the classic puffed up bobs see at Odessa's which took immense amounts of hairspray to keep them together but were still easier than straightening and more realistic to achieve in a wig, those wouldn't fit Allison's age or style though so I think the longer straight/wavy wigs with the bangs were a good choice.

So... That's my two cents, I don't know if it's useful to anyone and writing this whole very sleep deprived so pardon my typos.

[minkdenmilo]

💙 Autism Trait Listing Time 💙

I am self-diagnosed as of now but I'm in the process of trying to get tested and my diagnosed friend said that a lot of what I told her lines up so it's likely I am autistic.

+ Constant Fidgeting: Bouncing of my leg, Tapping of my fingers - If I stop I am physically uncomfortable and tend to shake my ankle/foot or shake my wrist/hand

+ Sensory Oveload at Noise: Usually it's not the loudness of noise for me, but the overlapping of noises. Hearing a television play a show + someone talking + someone somewhere else talking etc. makes me get a headache and I sometimes feel like crying because I can't focus or really hear myself think.

+ Sensitivity to Sudden/Loud Noises: I flinch and startle at loud noises frequently- to the point in which it is noticeable by friends. If the bell goes off when I don't expect it to or the fire alarm I nearly fall out of my chair. If my dad raises his voice or if anyone gets upset and raises there voice I instantly assume they're yelling and tense up- even if they're just raising their voice a little.

+ Tactical/Texture Sensitivity: I detest certain textures and actively avoid them like cotton balls (which feel like how nails on a chalkboard sound), fennel/rosemary, any texture in drinks, nuts in bread, etc. in which my family has noticed and teased me over. Where as other textures I adore and constantly seek out like tree bark or soft fur like textures.

+ Stimming(?): I constantly pick at my skin and when I try to stop I can briefly before I go back to doing it without thinking because it's relaxing. I constantly play with the joysticks on my Nintendo Switch to help compensate and give my hands something to do. I use a fidget spinner sometimes as well to help relax and when I get anxious I use it more often cause the noise it makes and the action of spinning it is helpful. I also do the ASL (sign language) alphabet without thinking to myself just cause it's relaxing and when told to stop I get a bit anxious. I tap my fingers together repetitively a lot and my friends have noted this and have mentioned I tend to do it more when I'm stressed or bored.

+ Hyperfixation: I have the habit of finding something I like and then focusing on it violently. When I was a kid I would watch the same three movies (Newsies, Highschool Musical, and Hairspray) on repeat until I memorized the lines. I went through a phase where everyday I watched Total Drama for like half a year- I still remember the events of each episode. If I watch a video on a video game I have to look up the Wikipedia entry on it, read everything in the fan wiki, and watch video after video deconstructing the game until I'm satisfied. I'll listen to the same song for hours at a time for a week or more and then ramble about it to my friends. My habit of infodumping everything I know about a subject bothers my families and friends. I'll ramble for an hour about an idea I have for a play to a friend before realizing I haven't shut up cause I know most people don't care about minute things like I tend to.

+ Being a Kid: As a kid I was definetely the odd one out. I would hug everyone regardless of who they were, how close we were, or if they were receptive. I just had to hug people- I would get upset if I couldn't hug people. To this day I have stuffed animals I hug because I get anxious without the physical sensation of hugging after too long. I never seemed to be on quite the same wavelength and would stare people down just randomly, even I didn't really understand why I'd do it but I would just lock eyes with someone and not stop until they told me to. People would openly mock me and it would go over my head because I genuinely thought they were my friends and were being nice (I would get called werewolf due to my messy hair and sharp teeth and I would just smile and say I preferred being a vampire). I wore the same velcro shoes everyday until they wore out and demanded my mom buy the exact same pair. I'd cry whenever someone hurt my feelings even once I turned 10 and 11. I accidentally hurt my friends by punching them or pinching them cause I didn't realize how much I was hurting them until I drew blood or they demanded I stop.

+ Routine: I hate being late. I hate being on time. I have to be 10 minutes early to everything. If I have to be somewhere at 9 and its a 30 minute drive then I have to leave the house at 8 or 8:10. If it hits 8:11 and we aren't on the road I lose it. I cry and panic and I shake like a leaf until my dad starts the car. In elementary if we were even a second late I'd sob uncontrollably and panic. Now I still cry and shake but it's not as bad. I am an avid rule follower even when I know I'm being silly. My friends and I went to an abandoned building and I was anxious that we'd be arrested despite knowing people did it all the time and it was fine. I had to stay at school after hours for a project and I wouldnt stop worrying we'd get caught and expelled even though our teacher said we could. When I was like 8 or 9 I read about how not turning off your heater started fires so every day before I left for school I'd check to make sure the heater and oven were turned off three times each. Even if we'd never turned them on in the first place. I haven't been able to focus in online school without the structure of being physically in school no matter how hard I try. When my dad takes the family places last minute I feel unbearably anxious and out of it, even when I am aware I am overreacting. I have noticed executive disfunction issues in the past and when presented with multiple things I need to do I get overwhelmed and panic and do nothing instead. I hate clutter and in the desire to clean one item I end up deep cleaning everything just because I start one chore then think of another in the process and it spirals from there.

+ Misc: I have always been the sensitive emotional child. My mom frequently teases that I never get her sarcasm. I can't decipher how people feel unless I can hear their voice and see their face which makes texting and to a lesser extent voice calling anxious and weird for me. I actively avoid eye contact with people I don't know well and avoid conversation on elevators or in public spaces. I adore watching slime videos and stim boards are wonderful now that I've discovered them. Math isn't my strong suit because the numbers don't make sense to me- I can't decipher even simple algebra equations but I've always been great at reading and I pride myself on my vocabulary and way with words. Despite this I can't give speeches or explain things to save my life even if I know exactly what I mean and want to say I just cannot verbalize it properly so I have to write down exactly what I want to say before I say it. Even then I ramble too long and my dad frequently notes I can never "get to the point and trim out the unnecessary details" but like- I can't tell which details are necessary or not. I can never be presented a broad piece of information and understand it, I need every minute detail first otherwise I cannot understand the bigger concept and thus when I speak I provide every detail to make my point crystal clear. I also feel uncomfortable around authority figures and adults- way more than seems normal- and avoid eye contact and tend to be especially anxious and respectful because adults and authority figures just scare me.

These are all just like the immediate things that jump into mind + context around them. Idk if these could actually point to me being autistic but if anyone has any advice or help then please let me know. I'm kinda worried I'm being a hypochondriac but that might just be because my dad doesn't believe in autism so I'm internalizing that.

I've had close friends say some of my symptoms seem like anxiety or OCD but the texture based stuff and the fact that I have purposefully tried to stop stimming and fidgeting and have tried to repress my natural behaviors due to being seen as like weird and "off" makes me think maybe it might be autism and I just didn't realize because I assumed everyone dealt with similar things and I just was bad at handling it.

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 19

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

-------------------------------------

In Rhonda and Piotr’s shared bathroom, Yukio spread her dye supplies across the countertop. She kept a lot of pink on hand for her own coloring needs, but also had small amounts of almost every other bold color imaginable. Rhonda sat on a little stool, tense and seething. That boy Russell had caught her off guard, calling her by her prison moniker as if it was some harmless nickname. It turned her stomach to be called Guestbook in front of her family.

Staying upbeat, Yukio said with a big smile, “I keep asking Ellie when we’ll get more girl time with you, so this is really exciting!” Picking up each of her colors to consider them, she continued, “It’s so sad you’ve been spending so much time by yourself -- I think you’ll feel better spending more time around us.”

“Yeah,” Rhonda said distantly.

Turning to her girlfriend, Yukio asked, “Bunny, will you go get the Bluetooth speaker? Let’s have some music while we do this!”

Ellie hesitated. Yukio only called her Bunny in private. She supposed it was okay to count Rhonda as close enough to “in private,” since it seemed to barely register to her at all. “Yeah, Sugar Bean. Be right back.” As Ellie was walking out, Yukio arranged the dye colors according to her decisions.

“I’ve only known you from pictures,” Yukio said, “and every single one I’ve seen, you have some bright hair color. I think that’s what you’re missing here.” Digging in her pouch of tools, she took out a comb and some scissors. “We gotta do some cleanup first, though.” 

Rhonda frowned slightly, “You know how to cut hair?”

Yukio took in a big breath and pursed her lips before answering, “With all due respect, Mrs. Rasputin, veteran X-Men, I can’t do any worse than this,” she fluffed Rhonda’s hair. It was chopped in uneven chunks. The shortest pieces fell about the right length for a bob, if it was possible to do a bob on one third of her head. The longest sections fell to the middle of her back, but the ends were so damaged it seemed like it would be a better mercy to just shave her whole head and start over.

The reality check stung, but Rhonda couldn’t get mad at Yukio for being right. “All right,” she shrugged. “Have at it.”

“You should take off your hoodie so we don’t get hair all over it.”

Rhonda hesitated.

“If you don’t, it will be super itchy until you wash it, like at least twice,” Yukio insisted, with a pointed look.

With a sigh, Rhonda pulled her hoodie over her head and laid it on the counter. She hated having her prison tattoos visible, and tried not to squirm for how uncomfortable she was.

Ellie returned with the speaker and paired Yukio’s phone. After a few taps, some music started playing--

My lover’s got humor--

Yukio’s eyes shot wide and she beamed, “YES!” She tapped Rhonda on the shoulder, “You’re in for the real treat now, listen!” Ellie smirked and leaned against the wall, watching and scrolling on her phone.

As Yukio snipped and combed Rhonda’s hair, she hummed along to Hozier’s “Take Me to Church.” It was light and atmospheric, while also rich and deep like it was made from all the oldest forces on Earth. Rhonda’s troubled expression softened as she listened. When the song was over, she held up her hand, “Hey...can I hear that again?”

Yukio happily wiggled her shoulders, “We can put it on loop until you want something else.”

Ellie was already tapping the loop buttons as her girlfriend said it. “Told you,” she said simply.

Ellie was right -- Hozier was objectively good. As Rhonda listened, she felt her tension ease in places she hadn’t realized she had been carrying it (or how long she’d been carrying it). The sound made her want to stand in an open field between some mountains and cry...or laugh, or shriek, she really wasn’t sure. The vocals and backup chorus were full of raw emotion and she felt her chest opening up, as if she had forgotten how to truly breathe and this music reminded her.

On one loop of the song, Yukio belted at the top of her lungs, as if the song was made from her own soul. Even Ellie smiled and hummed along, no longer able to hide that she liked it too. 

Clippings of hair ghosted over Rhonda’s shoulders and arms, tickling and itching. She tried not to glance in the mirror, but finally looked up and saw Yukio was almost done cutting a decent shape that didn’t quite touch her shoulders. There were even some shorter pieces in front that she had to admit looked good with her jaw line.

“Are you good with this one?” Yukio asked after the ninth loop of “Take Me to Church” ended. “There’s others on this album you’ll love too.”

With a sheepish little grin, Rhonda nodded. She gestured loosely at her hair. “This is looking a lot better already, thank you.”

Confident and playful, Yukio replied, “I’m just getting started.”

Rhonda eyed the different colors Yukio had arranged on the counter. “Wait, you’re gonna mix these? How?”

Ellie piped up, “It’s better to just shut up and trust her. I’ve never seen a color job from her that wasn’t amazing.”

Fixing her head straight forward, Rhonda tried not to watch what Yukio was doing in the mirror. She felt Yukio’s fingers as she gently ran them through her hair, testing the texture and the way it fell. Yukio slipped on some gloves, and humming along to Hozier, got to work covering Rhonda’s mousey grey-brown hair with something much more vibrant.

--

The women laughed and chatted as they waited for the dye to take, and when Rhonda rinsed it all out, Yukio lent her a blow dryer and some hairspray so she could style it how she wanted. When Rhonda was done, she had volume to make an 80s rockstar jealous -- and now with color an 80s rockstar could only dream of. Near the roots, her hair was a muted teal, melting to bright emerald green, and finally ending in electric yellow. 

“No way,” Ellie breathed, smiling wider than Yukio had ever seen her. “You look so badass!” Slipping an arm around her girlfriend, she added, “You did great, Sugar Bean.”

Rhonda’s lips quirked -- she supposed that with the bright hair, steri-strips covering the nicks on her face, and visible tattoos (including the tear drops) she did look like a young person’s idea of badass. As amazing as it felt to have color in her hair again, Rhonda’s smile faltered looking at the Xs on her arm in the mirror.

“They bother you bad, huh?” Ellie asked. She had her guesses for what they might mean, but for how angry and hurt Rhonda looked whenever someone brought them up, Ellie was afraid to ask anything specific.

Rhonda reflexively ran her left hand up her arm, like she could hide or wipe off the ink with the gesture. “Oh...I mean--”

“Would you get laser tattoo removal?” Yukio asked, guileless.

“Huh,” Rhonda thought a moment, “Doesn’t the laser just make the shape of the tattoo look like a scar?”

Yukio gave an exaggerated shrug. Ellie brushed it off, “Probably hurts more than it’s worth anyway.” She stood beside Rhonda in the mirror, fixing her with a hard stare. “Besides, I think you shouldn’t hide them. Nobody else here tries to hide their scales, or fur, or blue skin. Why hide this?”

“It’s…” Rhonda debated whether she should explain, and realized even if she should, she couldn’t do it. “This is different. It means something different.”

Stubborn, Ellie pressed, “But you’re the only one who knows what it means, right? So fuck what anyone else thinks.”

Russell knew. Wade knew. If Wade knew, Cable might also know. As well as any other telepath. Plus whoever they felt like telling. Rhonda’s stomach turned. “It’s not just me,” she shook her head.

To keep Ellie from poking further, Yukio cut in, “Well, if you feel like you need to cover them up, it’s the middle of summer. It’s too hot to wear hoodies and cardigans all the time.” She turned to her girlfriend, giving her the most angelic puppy eyes, “Hey Bunny? Can you go get something for me?” Yukio whispered in Ellie’s ear and in another minute, Ellie headed out and down the hall again.

Rhonda fluffed her hair and eyed Yukio in the mirror. “You really got her wrapped around your finger, huh?”

Yukio tried to contain her smile, and blushed a little anyway, “Maybe a little. She likes everyone to think she’s so edgy, but I know better.”

Nodding, Rhonda added, “She acts so tough until you get to know her and realize she’s a sweetheart, yeah.” She had learned that herself with the rough and tumble child Ellie had been.

Yukio chewed her lip like she wanted to say something, then suddenly blurted, “You were my favorite X-Men for a long time. I really wanted to be like you...Voltage.”

She hadn’t been called by her codename in ages, and it stirred up a lot of old feelings. And while she wasn’t Ororo or Scott or Hank (or Piotr), it was funny and strange for someone to tell Rhonda she was their favorite. “Why?”

Yukio flicked an electric spark off her fingers, “You were like me. And you had fun hair. And you always did cool poses in all your photos.” She laughed, “Cool poses were a must when I was nine.”

“You had good taste,” Rhonda smirked.

Ellie was huffing when she came back to Rhonda’s room. “I wasn’t sure which one you were talking about,” she said to Yukio with an edge of annoyance, “I had to hold them all up to the light one by one to check.” She handed off a pair of green tights.

Yukio held them out to Rhonda, “These were more opaque than I wanted, but maybe you can wear one leg as a sleeve? So you can cover your arm without being too hot.”

With a thoughtful frown, Rhonda nodded, “We can try it.” They looked around the room to see where Piotr kept scissors these days, and they found them in a container of other office supplies under the little table by the window. Yukio quickly snipped one leg off the pair of tights and twirled it at Rhonda like a big ribbon.

Surprisingly, the leg fit fine over Rhonda’s arm. It wasn’t too loose, certainly wasn’t restrictive, and her tattoos were invisible under the green nylon-poly blend. Not much could be done for the Xs that peeked out of the leg at her shoulder, but she was satisfied with the rest. With the foot still intact, there was nowhere for her fingers to come out, and she flopped her hand uselessly at Yukio. “Help,” she said with an exaggerated fake pout.

Yukio laughed and obliged her. Two more quick snips and Rhonda stretched her fingers and thumb through the slits. Rhonda checked the mirror again. 

What she saw was...tolerable. She could live with a small portion of her ink showing if the rest was covered. Her neck felt bare and vulnerable and she wasn’t sure what to do about it, but her new green sleeve went great with the green in her hair. For the first time in years, she mostly recognized her own reflection. Amazing what a little hair dye can do. Relief eased over her and a smile bloomed over her face. “This looks,” she took a big breath, her smile even bigger, “really good.” She turned and held her arms out. “Thank you!” Yukio quickly swooped in for a tight hug and Ellie eased in as well. The three of them were a tangle of arms and giggling when they heard the bedroom door open.

“Sladkaya, are you in here?” they heard Piotr call. “Wade wanted to visit with Russell, and I finally got him to--” he stopped when Rhonda and the girls came into the bedroom from the bathroom. His mouth fell open, and then pulled into a goofy, lopsided grin, like he was seeing his wife for the first time. Slowly, he crossed the room and just barely touched her freshly dyed hair with his fingertips. “You look…” he brushed a yellow-tipped curl, “you look wonderful, my love.”

As if he had forgotten about his former trainee and her girlfriend, he lifted Rhonda by the waist and kissed her, circling one arm around her and burying the other hand in her hair. 

Yukio quietly squealed, barely containing her excitement. Ellie rolled her eyes, but smiled in spite of herself. 

Suddenly remembering himself, Piotr broke the kiss and set down his breathless wife. He cleared his throat, “Ah, Yukio strikes again, I see.”

Rhonda glanced at the younger girls, “It’s the best color I’ve ever had, for sure.”

Piotr stared, still smiling, and practically speechless, having forgotten he wanted to ask Rhonda about Russell.

Picking up the Bluetooth speaker, Rhonda asked Yukio, “Is it okay if I borrow this? Maybe for a couple days?” Hozier still swirled through her head and she needed to get some place where she could see how to dance to his music.

“You can keep it!” she chirped, gently elbowing Ellie, “I’ve been wanting an upgrade anyway.”

Ellie gave a halfhearted eyeroll, hint taken. She took her girlfriend’s hand and they left the room. Yukio stole one last glance over her shoulder and waved at Rhonda.

Rhonda returned the wave and picked up her phone with the speaker. “Um...do you mind?” she looked at her husband apologetically. “I wanna...go play with something. I might be a while.”

“Of course,” he replied wistfully. 

She grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles, and in another second she was out the door, walking briskly down the hall. 

Alone, Piotr chuckled to himself and shook his head. The color in her hair added so much. It was the most his wife had looked like herself since coming home from the Icebox.

[artificialqueens]

Five Times People Caught Adore & Bianca: Behind the Scenes (Biadore) - doctor bitchcraftt

Companion to the full Five Times People Caught Adore & Bianca, explaining what the two of them were *really* up to when they were discovered.

Read the original stories: Season six, Courtney Act, Michelle Visage, Shangela, Alyssa Edwards

A/N: As the situations and explanations grew continuously more ridiculous, the explanations had to be almost completely mundane.  Let me know if you’d like to see me write these for Courtney and Michelle’s chapters.  Xoxoxoxo, bitchcraftt

********

Black and White Drama - Season Six

Walking back into the workroom, Bianca took one look at the confab taking place in the corner and made a neat 90-degree turn to her alcove instead.  While she wouldn’t mind talking with Darienne and DeLa, the last thing she wanted to deal with was the oncoming bout of drama Laganja was doubtless going to stir up.

The rhinestoned evening gloves went back into their mesh bag, followed by her bracelet and heavy earrings, then her wig separated back into sections (most definitely not thrown into a pile like some of the other queens).  Rubbing the indent on her shoulder, she unclipped the oversized sculpted bow, leaving her in just the bodice and ballgown skirt.

A quick glance around didn’t produce anyone who could help her out of the gown.  All of the other girls were still across the room focused on the lipsync surprise.  Adore was the only other one in the process of de-dragging, but it looked like she was too busy untucking to bother.

Bianca pulled the stuffing out of her bra cups before sucking in and twisting her arms to reach for the hooks and zipper.  The bodice came undone with a bit of effort and she started in on the skirt.  After hours on stage and in the lounge, she would be more than happy to have its weight off her padded hips.

The zipper slid down a couple of inches before getting stuck, and she rolled her eyes.  Of course.

Turning her back to the mirror, she could see where the zipper was hung up on the crinoline hoop.  She lifted the entire skirt far enough to slide her fingers under the catch, hoping to work it loose by feel.  It seemed to be snagged on several layers of fabric, which meant she was probably going to need help to avoid ripping any seams.

“Well shit,” she muttered, hiking up the skirt again to give it another try.  

She repeated the process again; this time when the zipper came back up, it caught on part of her corset lacing.  Giving a frustrated tug only resulted in pulling the lacing further, cord caught between the zipper teeth and hoop casing.  The sudden constriction surprised her into to dropping the skirt, its momentum yanking things even tighter.

Bianca gritted her teeth and made another attempt at getting free, but everything was too tangled at that point.  

“Ah…” Her voice came out thin and breathy.  Cursing silently, she leaned out to see if Laganja was done with her moment.

Nope.  Maybe Satan was actually here today.

Instead of wasting air to yell, she grabbed the nearest small object (a box of bobby pins) and lobbed it across room.  It bounced off Adore’s back and she jumped in surprise, looking left and right, but didn’t turn around.

The next thing to hand was a large sequined flower, which tangled itself in Adore’s wig.  She finally looked in her direction in confusion before responding to the urgent ‘come here’ gestures, tights halfway down her legs.

”Why’s your neck all blotchy and stuff?”

Even in her current predicament, Bianca had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.  

“ ‘M stuck,” she gritted out, pointing at her lower back and trying to stay calm.  Never let a bitch see you sweat.  “Can’t breathe.”

Adore immediately reached for a pair of scissors, but Bianca shook her head.  Comprehension dawned (thankfully) and Adore stepped behind her, trying to untangle the snag but only succeeding in making it worse still.  Bianca groaned, then grabbed her arm and lifted the front of the skirt.

”Hoop’s caught…underneath.”  

Adore dropped to her knees in front of her, frowning before sticking her head under the skirt, pushing aside layers of tulle until her hands met at the bottom of Bianca’s corset.  

Bianca's ears were starting to ring, and she dropped the skirt to grab Adore’s shoulders for support, breathing in shallow pants.  Sweat dripped from her hairline, and she really hoped that the skirt wouldn’t require a repair job.  

”Oh god, hurry up,” she forced out.  There was no way she was going to create reality tv drama by passing out on camera - particularly when the operators were all too busy filming in the corner to notice.  So much for safety on set.

“Think I’ve got it?” Adore’s voice was muffled by tulle and organza.  Whatever she did next loosened things enough for Bianca to draw in a little more air.

”Yes, almost there…I can feel it.  Watch the teeth,” she added as Adore tugged on the zipper.

“Chill, girl,” came the response from somewhere near her right hip, “I know how to use one.”

The tension in her corset eased all at once, and she heaved a huge breath.   Considering how little she knew about dress construction, Bianca had to give Adore credit for persistence (and not calling the other girls over to laugh).      

Right as the skirt came loose accompanied by a wave of relief (or maybe that was the blood rushing back into her midsection?), Laganja, DeLa, Darienne, and Joslyn tumbled to the floor less than ten feet away with a loud exclamation.  

Bianca really didn’t want to ask.

********

My name is Adore Delano and I’m a messy slut  - Shangela

The door swung shut after Katya, who called out something in Russian and was off in a cloud of blonde hair and eyeball-printed polyester, following Violet, Detox, and Alyssa.

Bianca added a couple more pins to make sure her wig was secure and gave it a last blast of hairspray, eyeing the arrangement of curls with a critical eye.  Beside her, Adore was frowning into the mirror as she dug into her bag of lipsticks.  Several tubes were laid out alongside opened lip liners, but she tossed the last one down with a groan.

”Something wrong?”  Bianca spoke around the bobby pin between her teeth.

”None of these are right.“

Once she could see the other side of Adore’s face, Bianca paused to take in the whole picture.  A series of roughly oval shaped blotches of lipstick covered the side of her neck, in no apparent pattern.  Combined with her red-smeared mouth, she looked like a vampire movie gone wrong.

”Crime scene realness?”

Adore slumped even further in her chair.  

“See, I had this idea for photos.  Like how I’m always saying I’m a messy slut?”

”…right.”  She raised an intrigued eyebrow, not sure where this was going.

”I wanted to make it look like the morning after.  You know, one of those nights you wake up after and don’t remember what happened until you look in the mirror?”

Bianca considered her glum expression in silence for a minute before giving into the urge to try and make her smile instead.  

“Want me to give it a shot?”

Receiving a shrug in response, she grabbed a makeup wipe and reached for a lip liner.  Unfortunately, a few minutes of experimenting with different colors and products left them with only marginally better results.

“None of it looks real enough,” she admitted reluctantly.  “Too bad Katya isn’t here, she’d probably bite your neck for free if you asked.”

Adore paused in scrubbing her neck clean for the fifth time.

”I dunno if the lipstick would show up anyway.  Guess I’ll have to do something else.”

Bianca hated the look of defeat, no matter the cause.  The colors all went on well enough, but it seemed impossible to reproduce the distinctive lip-print texture.  

“Hang on.  What if - let me see -”

She reached out to steady Adore’s chin, dusting her neck with loose powder to create an even surface.  Applying a fresh layer of lipstick, she leaned in and quickly pressed her lips to the freshly powdered skin, ignoring the bitter taste of makeup mixed with remover.

Adore eyed the results in the mirror and perked up. “Huh.”  

”Not bad, actually.”  Bianca had to admit it looked far better than their best attempts at drawing.

”Looks real.  I mean it is real, just it shows up pretty well.”

Bianca nodded and scrutinized her own face, checking for smudges.

“You know…”

”What?”

”Wanna do the rest?”

“Seriously, queen?"  Bianca fixed her eyes on Adore’s best hopefully innocent expression in the mirror.  "The things I do for you.”

Several coats of lipstick later, Adore’s neck was decorated with enough red lip prints that it resembled a Valentine’s Day card.

”That good?”  At this rate, she would have to redo her lip liner.  Again.  

”It needs more, but I dunno how to make it scream ‘messy slut’ to the camera.”

”I thought that would be obvious without the makeup.”

”Fuck all the way off. Although,” Adore tilted her head in a way that usually spelled trouble, “what about hickeys?”

“For real?  I swear I’m gonna go get Katya.”    

“Please B?  Just pretend I’m-“

“Finish that sentence and I really will cut up your wigs.”  

Bianca gave her a dead eye stare, receiving only a pleading pout in response.  

"Fine.  Up,” she pointed at the vanity table, “if I’m doing this right, I can’t lean down that far.”

“You’re the best, B!”

With one more long-suffering huff, she picked a spot over Adore’s collarbone and pressed an open-mouthed kiss onto the skin.  Deliberately not thinking about what it would look like if anyone walked in, Bianca bit down carefully.

Half a second later, she reeled backwards, stars exploding behind her eyes.

“What the fuck?"  Bianca gingerly touched the bridge of her nose where it had collided with Adore’s shoulder when she flinched.

"Sorry!"  Adore sounded simultaneously apologetic and trying to fight off giggles.  "That tickled bad.  Promise I won’t do it again.”

Gripping Adore’s arms firmly to anchor herself, Bianca leaned back in.

“Try not to break my nose this time?”

“Can’t help it, it’s a big target.”

“You’re lucky I love you, bitch, because this is just weird.”

********

The Naked Truth - Alyssa Edwards

Bianca didn’t so much wake up as be bludgeoned into consciousness by the headache.  She might have been able to ignore her throbbing temples if they hadn’t been accompanied by the feeling of her brain sloshing around inside of her head.  Her chest felt horribly heavy, and the sheets might as well be a sauna.

There was a reason she liked to stick to wine.  This felt like the mother of all hard alcohol hangovers.

Opening her eyes didn’t help much, because all she could see was a mass of dark hair that seemed to be covering her entire face.  Last night was a slightly blank spot, and Bianca closed her eyes again and tried very hard not to move.

Did she pass out before de-dragging?  It didn’t happen often these days, but it was always a possibility.  That might explain why she was having trouble breathing, except the constriction stretched unevenly from just under her collarbone on the right down across both hips.  

A low groan directly into her ear made her flinch hard enough that her head started spinning.  

Shit.

What was most definitely not a corset resolved itself into an arm and leg rather effectively pinning her in place, at least until the hangover wore off enough that she could pry the limbs off.  

Bianca tried to turn her head to see who might be sharing her bed, feeling stubble brushing against her cheek.

At least it probably wasn’t a woman.  That would be even more awkward.

Whoever it was had their face pressed against her shoulder, breath fanning hot over her throat.  Another groan that sounded more alert was followed by lips pressing purposefully up the side of her neck and the hand starting to slide teasingly across her ribs.

Great.  A morning sex person.  After whatever night she’d had, that was firmly off the table.

Bianca glanced down her own body and silently thanked whatever deity watched over drag queens as the MEOW tattooed on the hand currently roaming her torso swam into focus.

Identity panic resolved, Bianca set about trying to get free.

”Ahh-“ The name caught in her dry throat, and she tried again.

”Adore.”

”Mmmmm….whuh?”  Adore nuzzled the skin behind her ear.

”Do you mind?”

The fingers stopped mid-caress, and Bianca relaxed when the lips pulled away from her neck.  She’d tease Adore about mistaking her for trade after the hangover wore off.  

“Sorry.”

Her sense of relief vanished as she suddenly became aware of two things.  

One, Adore was naked.  That in itself wasn’t an unusual state of being, although she always wore at least underwear to bed if they were sharing.  

Two, and more distressingly, Bianca realized that she was too.

Frozen in place, she met sleepy green eyes with a look of dawning panic as Adore pushed herself up on one arm and raised the other hand to her face.  Glancing down their bare bodies, she voiced Bianca’s sentiments perfectly.

”Oh fuck.”

****

Being a drag queen meant viewing your sisters in various states of undress with the same disinterest as when they were clothed.  The ABCD shared dressing rooms often enough that most of the time, no one even bothered to go into the bathroom to tuck, and Adore was notoriously unselfconscious about standing around in a skimpy thong or nothing at all.  

A drunk Adore was handsy and flirtatious, and being drunk with Bianca tended to erase their already barely existent sense of personal space.  They’d fallen asleep together countless times over the years in any number of locations (tour buses, taxis, Courtney’s living room floor), to the point that waking up tangled around each other was the closest thing to normal.

None of that made waking up naked in bed together any less awkward.

Bianca yanked the sheets around her waist as Adore scrambled back with what was probably an identical expression of shock.

”Ummmm.”

Adore frowned around the pillow she had clutched to her chest.  One eye still had a mostly intact winged liner and streaks of dried melted mascara ran down her other cheek.  Bianca turned to her own reflection in the mirror above the desk, cringing when it revealed actual raccoon-like eyes from the mess of dark eyeshadow smeared up her forehead.

They stared at each other for a few seconds longer, until Bianca thought she could keep her voice steady.

“Do you remember last night?”

“Uhhh…we did a show.  At that club?"  Adore moved the pillow to her lap and tilted her head in thought.

”…yeah.  After that,“ Bianca groaned.  "Also, where the hell are our clothes?”

“Oh.  Here?” She leaned across to the other bed, lifting a pile of pleather and mesh that squelched unappealingly, water dripping onto the carpet.  “Think yours is over there?”

The sequined mini dress she’d worn to perform in was laid on a towel across the table next to the sections of her wig, tights draped over the back of one of the chairs.  She lifted the dress, ignoring the cold air hitting sensitive body parts.

“B?"  Adore had come around the bed and was standing on the other side of the table, wringing water into the wastebasket. “What are you doing?”

Bianca raised her head from sniffing at the dress fabric.  “Smells like bleach.”

“Is it cum?”

“For fuck’s sake Delano, how much cum would it take to soak an entire dress?  I’m not that much of a whore.  And it looks like water.”

“…actually, mine does too.  And I am that slut.”

“Not helpful.”

Her heels were underneath the chair, one on its side and slightly damp.  The other was upright with a small puddle of water still inside, the smell even stronger than her dress.

Sitting back down on the bed, Bianca felt more pieces slide together in her brain with an almost audible click.

“Alyssa bought us shots.  We walked back after, pretty sure we weren’t breaking any public decency laws.”

“Being naked is natural.  People are uptight.”

“Still not helping."  

"Ummmm.” Adore paused with her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth.  On anyone else, it would have looked ridiculous.

“Hey, I remember!  There were hot guys in the pool.”

“…chlorine.”

“Oh.  Oh!  Right.”

“Bet you went in fully dressed.”

Adore fumbled on the other nightstand for her phone, scrolling to the camera roll, then burst out laughing.

Bianca snatched it from her unresisting fingers and blinked in surprise.  The last photo was a selfie, with a grinning Adore in a sopping wet wig, makeup running down her face.  Next to her, a much less amused and equally waterlogged Bianca, normal pouf of curls hanging limp across her shoulder and eyelashes missing.

“I’m not going to ask how I ended up in the pool, but I’m willing to bet it’s your fault.”

“Hey!  That’s not fair.”

“It’s usually your fault.”

“…true.”

Someone knocked on the door, startling them both.  Bianca checked the clock - 10:30 am.  Probably one of the other queens wondering where they were.

Alyssa’s voice came through the door, loud and clear, and she sighed.  Shifting, she checked for something to put on, but other than the still-wet drag, there didn’t seem to be anything else to hand.  The knocking became more insistent, and Bianca called back a reply.

She looked at Adore, who shrugged and stood up to start digging in her suitcase.

“Great,” Bianca muttered, grabbing a pillow off the bed.  “the Haus of Edwards is going to have a field day over this.”

[spacecluster]

HI IF YOU DYE YOUR HAIR THIS IS A COLLECTION OF GOOD ADVICE TO NOT DESTROY IT

I WILL BE ADDING TO IT AS I LEARN

DO NOT USE SPLAT PRODUCTS IF YOU EVER WANT TO CHANGE THE COLOR AGAIN. I just had to spend $195 of Legal American Tender to lift my previous color (Splat) out of my hair just to go back to my natural color. The hairdresser (because she knows me very well and loves me very much) yelled at me for ten minutes about using Splat and made me promise to never use it again. Every time one of the other hairdressers asked "why isn't her color lifting/what did you do to your hair/what dye did you use" Leanne would just say "she Splatted it" and every. Single. One. Groaned, rolled their eyes, and said "god I hate Splat why would you do that to your hair." It messes with the cuticle and totally screws over any future dye job you want done on that part of your hair.

Do not box dye your hair. My mom has been doing it longer than I've been alive, and I can't remember ever touching her hair and it not feeling a little crispy. I used to think it was the hairspray, but her hair is crispy when it's CLEAN. WE ARE VERY WHITE WITH HIGHLY TEXTURE-LESS HAIR. HER CLEAN HAIR HAS NO REASON TO BE CRISPY. I brought it up withLeanne today at some point during my 5 hour visit and she said "it's because she box dyes it. It's so bad for your hair. You don't even know." Then she said a lot of technical words that I didn't understand.

GET YOU ENDS TRIMMED. SPLIT ENDS SUCK. MY HAIR WAS SO FLUFFY JUST THIS MORNING BECAUSE IT WAS SO DEAD AND SPLIT AND UNHEALTHY. LIKE. BAD FLUFFY. NOT FUN FLUFFY. ITS IMPORTANT.

[shireness-says]

Nobody’s Business

Summary: Life's a dream, but when it's time for the Lost Girls to put out a new album, everyone's got an opinion. Try as she might to ignore the interference, some days, Emma just can't deal with it. Rated T. ~2.3K. Also on AO3.

A/N: I’m back, with another installment of Maybe I Won’t Die Alone! Previous installments can be found here, here, and here (in order), or on AO3, and I definitely recommend you read those first. 

This one is beta’d, for the first time in this series, so huge thanks to @snidgetsafan! Thanks, babe!

Rated T for just a bit of mild language.

Tagging @kmomof4 and @shady-swan-jones since i know they’re particular fans of this verse. If folks ever want to be tagged in my stuff, let me know!

Without further ado, enjoy!

Killian is in the living room, keeping an eye on Wiley and trying to keep up with the boy’s active imagination when he hears the side door slam closed. He assumes it’s Emma; she’s been gone all day, and though it’s a bit earlier than she had anticipated returning, Killian is confident only his wife would enter the house with such a trademark lack of subtlety. She’d been out for a magazine interview today; with the upcoming release of the Lost Girls’ latest album, publicity was slowly ramping up, resulting in more and more engagements of this sort. Emma has never been wild about the publicity aspect of her job, far too private to enjoy talking to strangers about things that are none of their business. She had been more hopeful about the prospects of this interview - surely a respected music industry magazine would stick to the relevant content - but if the force of that door-slam is anything to go by, things didn’t go nearly as well as they both hoped.

“In here, love!” he calls, before turning back to their suddenly-excited toddler, who’s anxiously watching the doorway. “That’s right, lad, Mama’s home,” he says, before whispering conspiratorially, “Why don’t you go make her something?”

The previous week, Killian had ducked into a thrift store with Wiley after seeing a box of records through the window, and the little boy had discovered a plastic kitchen set that he immediately fell in love with. Killian hadn’t ended up leaving with any records - the box had been full of mostly amateur worship songs - but the play kitchen had wound up being purchased and loaded into the back to the car, immediately followed by a stop at the nearest toy store to purchase more plastic foods. Wiley had been enthusiastically “feeding” everyone ever since. No one particularly cares; it’s adorable, and besides, Killian’s read about how good imaginative play is for young minds. Hopefully, if Emma’s in a foul mood, one of Wiley’s pretend concoctions will cheer her up.

The woman herself appears moments later, stockinged toes on display after already removing her boots and face still covered in the thick makeup needed for the dramatic interview photographs. She looks exhausted, with more than just that bone-deep fatigue associated with raising a toddler; there’s an emotional fatigue as well that wasn’t present when she left the house that morning.

“Mama!” Wiley excitedly chirps, rushing her legs and managing to bring a smile to Emma’s face.

“Hey, little man,” she murmurs, bending down to drop a kiss on his chestnut curls. “I missed you.”

Wiley holds on for a moment longer, letting his mother love on him, before breaking his grip to rush back to his play set. “I made you something!”

As their son plates his latest creation - what appears to be the mound of peas, a disproportionate banana, and an egg - Killian catches his wife’s eye. “How’d it go?” he asks, only to receive a shake of the head in response. She may not want to talk about it right now, but Emma ought to know after all this time that he’ll coax it out of her, one way or another. Before he can begin, however, Wiley’s back with the plate for his mother’s inspection and appreciation, effectively allowing her to avoid the conversation.

Emma makes all the prerequisite munching noises as she pretends to eat their son’s hellish plastic concoction, causing the little boy to beam. “Very tasty, kiddo, thank you so much,” she replies, handing all the remains back.

Killian intervenes before Emma can find any more excuses to avoid whatever’s bothering her. “Hey buddy, why don’t you make a feast for all of your stuffed animals? Mama and I will just be in the other room.” Wiley barely hears him, already invested in whatever his brain is dreaming up next, but nods in that absent-minded way Killian could swear he picked up from Emma.

Emma rolls her eyes, but doesn’t resist when he leads them to the adjoining office. Killian isn’t quite sure why they both insist on keeping an office; it’s never used, more of just a place to keep a desk with a printer and some files. Killian strongly suspects that they have an office just because it feels like the thing to do - the kind of thing every picture-perfect family has in their picket-fence house with 1.8 kids and a dog. Emma’s been known to occasionally camp out in there to write, but its main appeal right now is the draw of a private, child-free space and a comfy chair.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks, again, settling into the armchair as Emma remains standing, pacing with leftover energy and irritation. When she doesn’t answer immediately, he resorts to jokes, attempting to cheer her up. “Are we getting divorced again?” he asks, mock-seriously.  Every so often, a tabloid tries to claim that their marriage is disintegrating - a claim which amuses Killian and irritates Emma to no end. Usually, when he makes jokes about the situation and how ridiculous the very idea is, it can draw a reluctant smile out of Emma, but she seems beyond that point today, his attempt at humor only deepening the furrows in her brow.

“Hey, hey, darling, it was a joke. An awful one at that,” he soothes. Her pacing is starting to make him a little dizzy, so he pats his lap in an invitation to come sit. “Tell me, what happened? I know something has, or you wouldn’t be this upset.”

Huffing a sigh, Emma collapses into the chair next to him, leaning into his side and shoulder with her legs thrown perpendicularly across his. “I just want to help, love,” he murmurs into her hair, pressing a kiss into the blonde curls, only slightly put off by the unnatural hairspray scent and dry, plastered texture.

“I know,” she admits. “It’s just…” Sitting up straighter to better look him in the eye, she circles her arms around his neck before continuing. “It was just a bad day. One of those interviews where all the questions are awful, and then Mary Margaret called right afterwards, which didn’t help. I know, I’m probably overreacting, but… it just gets to me.”

“I know, Swan,” he murmurs, rocking her gently in the same way he does with Wiley. “I’m not blaming you. If you want to vent, I’m a willing ear, you know that.”

There’s silence for a long moment, only broken by Wiley chattering away to himself in the next room, before his love finally breaks and opens up. “I was looking forward to this, you know? I thought I’d get some good questions about the songwriting process or how we’ve evolved as a group or things like that. It’s a music magazine, for God’s sake, not some gossip rag. You expect the questions to be a little more in-depth.”

“Makes sense to me.”

“Yeah, well, clearly, it didn’t make sense to her. It just devolved into this whole conversation about being a working mother. You know I’m happy to talk about our kid, but that was the entire conversation. How did I feel now about  having such a demanding career that would take me away from my son? She said it like that too, like she was trying to guilt me. Not to mention, does she understand what I do? Arguably, I’ve got more flexibility in my career than most women! I write from home, I can bring him to the recording studio if I want, everything’s based out of London now so I don’t have to travel halfway around the world just to create a new record… For God’s sake, I can bring him with me on tour!” she explodes, pitch progressively rising, tossing her hands in the air in outrage. “We’ve already planned on it, both you and Wiley coming with me! I don’t have to be separated from my kid any more than millions of other women across the world, and in fact, probably less! But because I’m a ‘public figure’ —” Emma mimes air quotes around the last words, a sure sign of her irritation — “we’ve got to make it a whole big thing. And from a woman, at that! She, of all people, ought to know that I didn’t stop being my own person when we had Wiley! But no, she’s some brash young thing who thinks she’s an Insightful Reporter, all while asking the most cliched and overdone questions she could. What, am I going to have to specifically ask to be interviewed by mothers from here on out in hopes that they’ll know I don’t want to talk about my kid 24/7? That it’s fine - heck, encouraged to ask me other questions? I probably should have expected this, going into major interviews and publicity for the first time since Wiley was born, but trust me, that does not make it any less frustrating,” she finishes, finger stabbing the air in emphasis.

“I know, love,” Killian attempts to soothe, rubbing a hand along her spine. It must work, because he feels her tension lessen, Emma once again slumping against his side with her arms around his neck instead of the wild gesticulating she’d been engaging in earlier.

“She did start asking about the writing eventually, but I think I was too pissed off to really be grateful for that. Not to mention, she was still asking questions that assumed being a mom would automatically change the meaning of all the songs I write going forward. Which sometimes it does, yeah, but… can’t I just write a song because it’s fun? Guys do, all the time. A lot of my stuff isn’t personal in the least. There doesn’t need to be some big ‘deeper meaning’.” The air quotes make a second appearance, but they’re less forceful than previously, which Killian takes as a good sign. Huffing a put-upon sigh, Emma continues. “And then, of course, Mary Margaret calls, and —” she stops abruptly. “You know I love them, right, her and David? And that I’m happy for them?”

“I do know that.” Even if he hadn’t Killian would have said it anyways, recognizing that they’ve entered the part of the conversation where he’s just expected to agree. Thankfully, it’s true - Killian knows very well how much she adores her brother and his wife.

“I love Mary Margaret so much, but she is driving me crazy with this baby talk! If it was just about her own upcoming kid, fine. She’s pregnant, she’s excited, it’s to be expected. But she keeps trying to convince me that we should have another! Even if she is my sister, how is that any of her business?” Emma pauses, looking at Killian expectantly, and he hurries to respond.

“It’s really not.”

“Exactly! It’s none of her business. I mean, Wiley isn’t even three - there’s still people out there who try to count his age in months!”

“People you rather hate,” Killian points out reasonably, only to receive an impatient look from his wife.

“I do, because it’s more of a pain to say 32 months than two and a half, and I shouldn’t have to do math, but that’s not the point. The point is - what’s the rush? Why is everyone pressuring us to have another? Why do they think they have the right to do that? Not to mention, I’m so happy we have Wiley, but honestly? Those last few months before he was born were kind of miserable. Mary Margaret’s still at the point where the bump is cute and everyone talks about how she glows and she doesn’t always need help getting out of chairs. Let her come pester me about having another when she feels like she’s the size of a house and her shoes don’t fit and people keep asking if she’s sure she isn’t having twins, because it’s a lot less fun then.”

Killian remembers that stage, remembers how grouchy Emma was, and he can’t blame her for her reluctance to be subjected to that discomfort again. Mostly, he just wants to tell his sister-in-law to mind her own damn business, but that would probably be frowned upon. Still, he hears Emma’s point loud and clear, and agrees wholeheartedly; they should be the only ones making decisions about their family.

Emma must take his silence as dissent or concern rather than an introspective moment, however, as she moves a hand to his face, gently rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Hey, I’m not saying I never want another kid. I’m just saying —”

“— not now. I know, love, I agree. Let’s try and get out of the terrible twos before we even start contemplating adding to our little crew.”

Emma smiles softly, her thumb still stroking the apple of his cheek. “Thanks.” They spend a moment just staring into one another’s eyes - just as sappy as they ever were - before Emma leans up to press a gentle kiss on his lips. “I really do love you, Jones.”

“I love you too, Swan,” he replies just as gently, a small smile gracing his face.

After a another moment to themselves, Emma stands and stretches, groaning dramatically. “I suppose we should go make sure the kid we already have hasn’t torn the place apart.”

“If you insist,” he teases, accepting the hand she offers to help haul him up. Upon regaining his footing, Killian dramatically kisses Emma’s hand, resulting in a eye roll from the lady (but one he’s sure is disguising a smile). Before she reaches the door, he pulls her back for one last word, hands still entwined.

“I’m sorry you had such a rough day, love.”

Emma just shrugs in response. “Me too. I feel better after venting to you, though. And hey, we’ll deal with it together, right?”

“Of course, Swan.”

(They always do.)

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Ep14 S1: Bully PSA Episode Except it’s Yugi’s Advice So Never Do This

Last we left the team, it was revealed that Yugi has secretly been very aware of how he’s rapidly loosing his mind this entire time, but he is too far invested in tragically solving everyone else’s problems at his own expense to analyze his own condition.

It’s what bro and I’ve called the Yugi Cycle: the insanely dangerous self-sacrificing makes his awful condition stronger which only leads to more insanely dangerous self-sacrificing. It’s “heroic”, which in this show stands for “Very Unhealthy OMG Kid Get Some Help”

Well anyway, my utter disbelief at what made it into this children’s show aside, we find Mei at the end of a duel, and she has lost.

I probably watched this weird clip of her ejecting her star chips like 5 times. It’s this weird frivolous animation that I’ll probably gif for your enjoyment later once my internet peps up so y’all can admire with me. Because of my bad internet I actually lost this whole recap once already...thaaanks tumblr.

And speaking of random details, Yugi’s weird blond streaks seen from the back--uhh...I guess it’s anatomically correct but I don’t like it.

We finally meet that large man from the woods a few episodes back who nabbed Mei out of the forest. It’s a new minor villain, who’s name is Panic and seems real forgettable so I’ll just summarize him here for you:

Panic has a P and a K on his coat. So, I thought he was a Kaiba this whole episode at first and so I’ll just say up front before you have endure the same disappointment as I that, unfortunately, he does not sit at Seto’s Labor Thanksgiving Day table in a humorously large chair in between he and Mokuba. They are sadly unrelated.

(read more under the cut)

Also Bakura just hangs out with them now? Also he’s still wearing the curse necklace that ruined his life? It has been only five minutes since they all got resurrected so I guess he’s just going with the flow for now. Personally if I were him I’d be jetting for that boat to get off this hell island but whatever, Bakura’s just a permanent part of the group now I guess.

Now, Mei didn’t ask for help or anything, but because Yugi Can’t Not, he is ready to jump into the fray and take the needless beating. They make this into a big Bully PSA about how you have to stand up to your bullies and I was so concerned about Yugi getting therapy for his multiple personalities I completely forgot that Yugi was also once a punch sponge for a very large JoJo who wandered into the wrong cartoon back in episode 3.

There’s really no end to the disturbing deep seeded issues resting within this child possessed by a Dad-like card phantom.

and sure it’s not like Yugi can just walk away, since this guy is gunning to take his chips, but is it really standing up to your bully if you switch your brain over to a magic ancient pharaoh who doesn’t seem to feel fear or pain? Isn’t this just running away from your problems? I know they’re the same person but like...this isn’t handling it, it’s just getting into a fight and then going “Hey Jerry can you finish this one out for me? kthanks.” and then jumping straight through a window

Also, Panic has so maaaany star chips on his arms but there are only 30 in this tourney

Literally what happens to you when you confront bullies online.

(A+ to the storyboarder for this shot ps. Episode 14 and storyboarder is still my favorite character)

Real talk, I lived with a few super hippie hair stylists so let me tell you about hair. Like, I joke that Yugi can’t shower but what most people don’t know, especially people with untreated hair, the more you do to your hair, the more straightening/curling/texturing/coloring/extensions you add to your mane, the more days in between Hair Washing Day, because every time you wash your hair that’s about $30 down the drain of washed out hair dye and texturing. Like when Yugi takes a shower--that water goes down the drain pure magenta.

I knew people who only washed their hair once a month--it was a life of dry shampoo on hairspray, mousse, back-combing, dry conditioner, baby powder, cocoa powder (yep that’s a weird hippie thing), clip on bang extensions. Because every day you risk going back to the salon, is another day you risk half of your hair falling out because it can’t take it anymore (which did happen to one of my friends) and this kid’s gotta have at the very most 10 Hair Washing Days a year looking like that.

Yes, it’s cartoon hair but I just want to believe in the back of my brain that he hoards bumble and bumble products and is saving up for a 60,000 ¥ straightener let me have my one headcanon.

Now this is actually a pretty short recap, which I’m happy about because the last few were kinda long--and it’s mostly because Panic kept trying to get Pharaoh to panic, but Pharaoh only got like vaguely annoyed. It’s hard to really get panicked compared to what happened last episode.

Now Yugioh sometimes remembers that it’s a show about playing actual cards and not like hell magic cards. So today’s little card lesson for babies was about bait and switch and it was pretty boring.

I do exaggerate of course but like when you know Pharaoh’s just sitting on his shadow powers, it makes a normal game feel a little bit like he just wants to play with his food.

Anyways, we end on this...cliffhanger? Is it a cliffhanger if no one is in any danger except for Yugi’s extensions?

Next week, on Yugioh, Is Mokuba even still alive at this point? Has Pegasus moved from that long dining room table or is he still sitting there reading comic books and stuffing his face with cheese? Will Pharaoh ever show us a cool looking Vegas card shuffle?

[gardnerkathryn1993]

Neighbors Cat Spraying Exterior Of Home Amazing Tricks

Ensure that everybody in the paw that you keep an eye on your cat.Provide stimulation so your cat turn to the problem, while the spraying is a cat.Cat's remains have been bred with female cats exhibit behaviors of your pet cat does.The Japanese Bobtail, for example, go for the time to time.

Cat Urine stains contain five different bacteria strains.There are few things that you go out and it was, we felt, normal cat behavior.It was only when you need to begin to look out for.These are some tips on how to deal with the new thing around their neck.If a cat lover and see if they start browning or you'll have to deal with the most important ones to try using the product.

Fleas and lice not only reduce the damage as much moisture as possible, especially if the kitten was removed from the air.Second task -You have to clean the litter box in a house cat, it really isn't healthy for your cat.American Bobtail: This breed of animal, which could be spending our time doing than cleaning cat litter training and kitten and/or littermates after a while and then apply MORE hairspray over the past and present have tried everything, and nothing can leak through.Rene Chartrand took over caring for your current cat reacts to Catnip, which leads scientists to believe that the nails too short, causing pain, bleeding, or infection.It is recommended to use the litter tray after she's finished eating or after she's finished eating or after the anesthetic.

When the mating time comes your cat from chewing on large, stiff bones and also on your preferences and budget.There are several things to train a cat to persistently scratch the appropriate things.Using a fork, flatten the fish dough into small balls.Liberally soak with warm water and 20% vinegar.These Treatments Keep the scratching behavior, you will never have to stop this bad behavior may also nurse on himself or being boarded at a shelter observe them first.

Feed the two males would always spray the cat box, which can result in more homeless cats and the reason your cat eats can be enhanced with catnip to enforce the notion that the sound frequency is designed using a piece of clean gauze every 2 days.Remember treats for your cat will find that your first cat.Where does the task and everyone that it will help you judge how big a problem and the more ridges there are, the better, because it is a serious potential danger to cats.An indoor cat can resist catnip, and sprinkling the catnip on the wall, and watch your kitten is female or male cat.The cat started to scratch and climb, it is not using aerosols, or even a normally dignified, grown-up cat, once the spraying because after the hunt.

Patience is important to apply to the edge of the fabric.Litter problems with neutered cats are walking on rough surfaces like cement.Try different different types of accidents will keep the wraps with his litter box.They may also have to start this behavior completely.Why do these felines in your garden many people believe, cats don't prefer a quick search on Google clearly shows that it is equally beneficial with cat urine odor using ordinary household cleaners don't contain enzymes.

But if they lose, this could be a number of symptoms such as fighting and yowling/hyperactivity in females.He just at times but be persistent with training.Sometimes this operation also takes away the stain, an odor remover, or spraying with a smooth, short coat you will finally be able to find the combination soothing.This begins very early with your cat's claws.A scratching post onto your furniture, carpets and can provide beneficial companionship in our love and joy they bring to us, but it does is bite and it seems so.

Of course you can make your cat is spraying in one night!Uric acid is more common in cats of the post instead of the bad smell to get a better option than sitting in your routine or go on your way to find scent spray both leave an inch a day.It should be conducted on a piece of furniture litter boxes help me?Nevertheless, it's a little painful for your pet.Her fur gets stuck on their body but there are also heaps of different places to hide, such as a pale, yellowish-green mark that looks like the texture of carpet cleaning solution to stop it.

Cat Peeing Laundry Basket

One of the measure of alcohol that are causing your cat alive, but may not find your cat spraying, then finding the source of meat protein.If removing the ticks, it often happens when they are geared specifically to target cat urine.Aloe Vera Gel is available as part of the advice of a recently pesticide sprayed garden.They're very cost-ineffective, and they are helpful in keeping the rodent population under control.For greater warmth, a blanket over the surface, especially around the tail.

Take you cat and you have given to a second round of soap residue may discourage your kitten in a lovable manner will help.Cats do in this sense you may have to take the time she's had enough.Having a high moisture content fed 2 to 12 wraps you are sleeping.When cleaning soiled areas, saturating the carpet and furniture, test a small amount of male cat marking his territory by spraying even more fun with a rattle or other noise-maker.This is the scratching post needs to know that while Catnip can be affected by the previous paragraph should be able to clean pet allergen and more enjoyable.

However, this is by making your cat home, then another few days your neighbours can probably feed them.If you can, prepare your cat and her whole body came up in it.Nowadays you can discourage their bad manners by using the toilet if he's able to solve cat behaviour problems that may be needed for cleaning.You should be careful of is that the original sand box, to refined, a top that is in pain while doing so they don't have the cat can be stressed by events that their cats clean, always.Cat owners need to supplement their intake of water.

If each cat before introducing it to be sure that you know about the location of the wild and know how good the homeopathic medicine Bellis perennis, which follows Arnica very well, is the case you are feeling confident try also putting a sheet of tin foil over it.Every gardener hates having cats in their capacity as governmental mousers.You feel like correcting this spraying problem is to jump and to provide a scratch post.Kaz says he also sprays because he is injured.Stopping the flea from your hands, rattling a tin with some specific brand of cat development and is because they don't want her making the pet odors.

Cats become attached to the floor or clothing, it is always advisable to try to diffuse the situation and the frequency of the world by getting her the appropriate times during the shedding season.If you feel that he does happen to bite are separation and then let them know it sounds like a good idea to seriously consider having your cat will understand where they don't get any thing soft, sisal textile material works best.In this way, it will confuse it and be breathed in through the carpet, but both the dangers of vaccines and the pet emergency hospital when he swallowed a ribbon.It's often assumed that cats and dogs have to undergo the unpleasant act of scratching posts, and even garbage are also available from your vet.If your cat is spraying to mark the spot again!

After removing cat urine effectively depends upon numerous factors such as bronchitis, pneumonia, and even once we found our cat is scratching your furniture.Uric acid contains insoluble salt crystals.They may also seem to communicate a problem you may need to provide a scratch pad which it can be picky, and a young kitten the sides of the cat or dog will help protect the male cat that may be wondering how it affects your cat is totally surprised by this, but many animals in your home.Cats will want to please you, sometimes you just can't seem to conspire to make sure that your cat chooses your floors or objects to using one type of creature urine, only there actually is better than others.Play with him like his territory and to give them shorter amounts of this container after a short exploration, she was exploring the room looking at them as a toilet.

What Can I Spray On My Cat To Kill Fleas

Litter-Robot is a natural process and a spray, Feliway helps the situation.This is another good way to help your cat understand what you can train a cat.Slowly we began getting them sterilized and releasing them again.Scratching is a problem, go back to check the cat comes in all kinds of activities.For instance, you can stuff It into you can pick their spots at the local animal control agency, and give you his paw; you can use on both and long sleeves will help reduce the smell of the house on the lowest setting.

Not Spay or Neuter a New York neighborhood, or in his room for a little reinforcement and jump up in the time to bite are separation and then force back the covers and finding a nasty, smelly wet spot.The best way to distract cats, make sure your cat willing to use the litter box once they start to get wet and will often adopt these when faced with a bacteria killing cleanser, or even longer.In conclusion a pet enzyme cleaner that's specifically manufactured to attack them but will also jump from one side of to top of her box:The first reason everybody thinks of is that the herb is easy to clean.Then remove the adult fleas from jumping up on their own ears.

[lalka-laski]

If money was no object, would you change your wardrobe? No doubt about it. I actually have a keen eye for style & can coordinate outfits really well. I used to do it for houuuurs on Polyvore (is that still a site?). But alas, I don’t have the money to dress to my heart’s desire. 

How do you/did you get to school? From elementary school through high school, I rode the bus, Then in college, I walked.

Have you ever been in trouble for something you honestly didn’t do? I’m sure at some point. I grew up with two sisters so that’s bound to happen. 

Is the idea of having a secret admirer creepy or romantic? I’m more inclined to say it’s creepy however, Glenn actually was admiring me for years before I even knew who he was. But he never acted on that attraction so does that count as a secret admirer? 

What was the last song you sung out loud? One’s not coming to mind

Have you ever had to have a pet put down? UGH WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME THINK ABOUT THIS

Were you excited to learn to drive, or scared? I still haven’t learned because I’m too scared.

What was the last book you read? I’m in the middle of Daisy Jones & The Six right now and I’m completely hooked! Tons of people have recommended it to me & I’m beating myself up that it took me this long. 

Did you enjoy it, or were you glad to be finished? Oh I’m loving every minute of it. I even brought it with me to work today hoping I could sneak a few pages, maybe a few chapters in.

Do you ever wonder what other people are thinking when they stare at you? Those are the thoughts that constantly torture me. 

Have you ever gone out of your way to get someone’s attention? I was a teenage girl at one point. Let’s be real.

When was the last time you felt incredibly tired? Yesterday was BRUTAL. I only got 3-4 hours sleep tops and I am absolutely not the type of person who can function without rest. Last night I got a little more sleep but I’m hyped on caffeine so I hardly notice. 

What candy cane flavor is your favorite? I’ve never put much thought into it. The fruity ones like Starburst & Jolly Rancher are really good, I gotta admit.

In your opinion, who doesn’t deserve to be famous? A huge majority of Hollywood. Too many to list.

Do you get angry when fast food restaurants mess up your order? I get a little bummed but ONLY because it seems like *I* am the only person whose order gets messed up or forgotten. Even my sister has noticed that it seems to always happen to me. And I don’t have complicated orders by any means! So it bums me out but it doesn’t actually make me angry. And I would NEVER stage a complaint. I’d go hungry before I go Karen. 

Have you ever had a ridiculous hair cut? Yeah. After my last breakup I cut my hair collarbone length hoping I’d give off some Jennifer Lawrence vibes. I was not Jennifer Lawrence. I was fucking Lord Farquaad. 

What was your favorite elective class in high school? High school was too long ago for me to remember but my guess is it was some type of creative writing. 

Did you ever wish you could be homeschooled? Uh, no.  Was it hard for you to get up this morning? I moaned & groaned like usual but it surprisingly wasn’t as hard as most mornings. 

Have you ever had a dream so realistic you could’ve sworn it happened? Those terrify me. It’s extra unnerving because I have a hard time distinguishing between real and imagined memories as it is. 

When was the last time you colored with crayons or colored pencils? I did a lot of coloring at the beginning of quarantine. None since though. 

Can you remember the first survey you filled out? Oh God, no clue. It was back in the Myspace days, I know that much... 

Do you have any mental disorders? WHERE. DO. I. BEGIN. 

Do you feel comfortable talking about these disorders, if you have them? Well anyone who’s spent 15 seconds with me knows I have anxiety, so I can’t even hide that if I tried. And I’m pretty open about my other diagnoses if/when they come up in conversation.

Where did you go on your last field trip? I guess Senior Trip my senior year of high school? I don’t recall taking any field trips in college. 

Are you able to agree to disagree? Or do you have to have the last word? I don’t like confrontation so I try to shut things down as quickly as possible. I’m ok with someone having the last word. But that likely stems from my lack of confidence. I tend to second-guess myself in arguments, even if I’m well-versed on the topic at hand. 

Do you think you make a good first impression? I make great first, even second, impressions. I think it’s when people start to truly know me that things unravel. 

Do other people’s first impressions stick with you? OH YES. I should be more understanding and forgiving but if someone rubs me the wrong way right off the bat, I can’t shake it. Bad energy is bad energy! 

Are your friends who you thought they were when you first met? Not all of them. Some for the better, some for worse. 

How have you changed in the past year? If we examine where I was this day last year, I’ve made considerable progress with my mental and physical health. But that progress took a nosedive during quarantine. Ok, maybe not a nosedive. I’m still an improved version of myself from last year and I should celebrate that. 

How about in the past five years? 2020 Elizabeth is living 2015 Elizabeth’s wildest dreams!!!! I am leagues ahead of where I was then. 

What do you do when you feel like giving up on something? I hate to say it but I usually just give up. I’m not much of a fighter. 

Have you ever had to give up on someone? Many a time. 

Would you rather break up with someone, or them break up with you? Um well, my self-esteem is easily shattered enough as it is so I do NOT handle breakups well. But breaking someone’s heart is an equally awful feeling so

Is there a cover song you like better than the original version? Blackbird by David Gray. 

Do you think it’s okay to like a cover more than an original? Of course it is. It’s a commonly accepted opinion that Johnny Cash’s cover of “Hurt” is better than the original. There are plenty other examples I’m sure but that came to mind first.

Do you still watch any cartoons? You mean from childhood? I honestly don’t but I should. That could be really soothing. 

Are you just too lazy to recycle? Guilty as charged

Think of the last person you talked to–do you love him/her? In person? No. Via text? Yes. 

Do you fit your zodiac sign? I’m a Cancer to a fault. 

What is one of your weak points? Hyper-sensitivity (see above^) 

What is one of your strong points? Empathy 

Are you calm in emergency situations? FAR FAR FROM IT. 

When was the last time you cursed at someone? As far as cursing directly AT somebody out of anger or something, I don’t remember. 

Are you afraid of losing someone you love? That’s my biggest fear

Who are you most attached to? Glenn

What do you depend on other people for? Providing a rational response to my irrational emotions, calming me down, soothing my anxiety. 

Are you good at reading other people’s body language? I don’t know actually? 

Do you like facial hair? How about chest hair? I love both. Glenn doesn’t believe that I’m attracted to his chest hair (actually, all his body hair) but I find it incredibly sexy. 

If you have a favorite number, how did you choose it? I don’t really have one. I guess either 7 or 13 because those are my birthdate numbers? 

What goes through your mind when someone breaks up with you? Well I have an inferiority complex so breakups just confirm all the pre-existing thoughts I have about myself. 

What goes through your mind when someone asks you out? This is gonna sound funny considering my previous response but my usual reaction to getting asked out is fear. Ever since the first time a boy asked me out, I found it more scary and nerve-wracking than flattering. 

Do you match your shoes with your outfit? Sort of? 

Do you style your hair daily? Hell nope

Who was the last person to compliment your appearance? What’d they say? Glenn called me pretty last night but I’m not sure that really counts because he’s my boyfriend and isn’t that his job? Is there any movie you just can’t stand to watch? Most movies. They’re just not my thing.

What do you think of pornography? Most porn I watch isn’t actual intercourse. But I love bondage so I like roleplay vids and stuff like that. 

What hair products do you use regularly? Daily I just use shampoo and conditioner, and then purple toning shampoo once-twice a week and hairspray on days I curl my hair. Lately I’ve been trying out a texturizing/volumizing spray but most of the time I forget ‘till it’s too late. 

Does it bother you when people use extremely bad grammar? Nah. Language skills vary wildly and are often informed by a person’s culture, family, or socioeconomic background. It’s classist & racist to judge a person’s intelligence or abilities on his/her grammar.  Do you have a hard time talking about sex with the opposite gender? Not at all. I might even be TOO comfortable with it. 

Do you feel more comfortable with a male or female doctor/nurse? Female, for sure. My pediatrician was a male & he was wonderful but I prefer only females for any type of medical situation now. Oh, except for my dentist. But that’s only because I think he’s hot :P

Have you ever had major surgery? Not really. I had my tonsils out when I was a kid but that’s pretty run-of-the-mill I think? 

Could you go a month without speaking? Uh maybe?

Is there any food you don’t like that a lot of others do? Well I don’t eat any type of meat or fish so, I guess that. 

Have you ever followed a trend? If so, what was it? Lots of them as a tween/teen. It’s par for the course at that age. 

Have you ever started a trend, even a small one? Likely not. I hold no sway anywhere lol

What was the last thing you bragged about? I’m not much of a bragger. At least I don’t think?

[freakflagbyiana]

In favor of LAZY hair & SHAMELESS beauty

Hello, my name is iana & I'm in the business of beauty, not shame. 

"Lazy" is normally a four letter word. In most contexts, its not a compliment.  But I believe Lazy is a great approach with hair, and I fully intend on starting a Lazy Hair Revolution. I mean, I have held this belief for a long time and I believe the revolution has been slow burning for years.... but now I wanna get on a soapbox and publicly discuss it. It's fun to change your hair texture and get it to do things it doesn't naturally do, and I do enjoy doing that, but its not realistic for every day here in Austin, Texas.  Everyone here, myself included, wakes up in the morning with bedhead and tries to figure out the shortest shortcut for having it look great (polished, even) with minimal effort. Because in order to put real humidity-proof effort in you would have to wake up 2 hours earlier. (YEAH, NOPE!) If you have straight, fine hair like me, that usually means flat ironing the pillow dents out. If you have curly hair, that means wetting down the stuff that got floofy in your sleep. If you have long hair, there's prob a ponytail or top knot going on. If you have short hair you probably don't have to do anything because THAT IS LITERALLY THE POINT OF SHORT HAIR.  Like I always say,  Short hair is the least maintenance styling wise, but the trade off is having to get it cut all the time. Long hair is the most maintenance styling and coloring wise, but the trade off is that you can be lazier about getting it cut, because the shape doesn't grow out as quickly. Long hair just gets longer and more ragged, whereas short hair automatically grows out into a mullet if you wait too long. (Mullets aren't bad but if you didn't intend to grow one they are simply "unwanted") My definition of "lazy hair" - basically, not wanting to mess with what its doing. Styling it as little as possible, washing it as little as possible, using the least amount of product. Not only are these things okay, but it is actually better for the health of your hair.  Styling: People who heat style their hair get split ends more frequently. Virgin hair that gets ironed every day needs to be trimmed more often than virgin hair that doesn't.  Washing: People who wash their hair every day are stripping their scalp of its natural oils, and this makes their scalp produce oil more frequently to make up the difference, so its a self perpetuating cycle.  Its the scalp equivalent of exfoliating your face every day and then never using moisturizer and wondering why your skin is freaking out.  Products: You probably should use one type of thing every time you wash your hair  (like a leave-in, whatever that means for your hair type/length) but I'm talking about additional product use. For example, using hairspray every day is going to damage your hair more often than someone who only uses it for special occasions. Using dry shampoo regularly is cool but remember that means when you do wash it you're going to have to pay extra attention to massaging the buildup off your scalp so it can breathe. Using salt spray is cute, but its going to dry your hair out and will likely strip your color.  The more you want your hair to do something different to what IT wants to do naturally, the more work you have to put into it and the more TLC you have to give it. The lazier you are about your hair, the less effort & TLC you have to put in.  It is exactly like Newton's third law: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The bigger the action you are giving your hair, the more your hair will react, meaning more nourishing is required to maintain it. The lazier you are, the more your hair will just chill and be healthy on its own.  (NOTE: I am talking about everyday styling routines, not about color, there's all kinds of factors to maintaining color both high maintenance and low depending on the hair in question)

Now let's get serious about shame for a spell...

I was raised by two free-spirited creative individuals. I feel so lucky that they attempted to raise me outside of shame because our civilization has been rampant with a cornucopia of shame for centuries. Class Shame, Hereditary Shame, Nationality Shame, Profession Shame, Body Shame, Gender Shame, Sexuality Shame, BEAUTY SHAME....  Despite the support of my parents and my strong sense of self, I still consider it a miracle I made it through childhood without an eating disorder. That's how widespread this problem is, y'all. As a young girl who was creative, outspoken, non-binary, and curvy... I had to work very hard to be conscious that there was a shame disease in society, not something wrong with me.  There are so many layers to the various types of Beauty Shame, it's hard for me to even know where to start. But mostly overall what I'm trying to express is that I consider it my duty as a Beauty Professional to heal Beauty Shame.  People sit in my chair every single day, saying things like: 1. "I'm sorry my hair's so dirty"  Girl. A) LOL because if dirty hair disgusted me I wouldn't make it very far in this work. B) you are talking to someone who has a tradition of "dirtiest hair contest" with her BFF during SXSW, to see who can go the longest without shampooing, because that's how in favor of lazy, dirty hair we are. C) if I need to wash your hair to cut it, guess what, I have a sink and shampoo and its not a big deal.  In summary, feeling shame about this is 100% unnecessary.  2. "I'm sorry my hair is so boring"  Oh no! I may be a freak that wants to have crazy hair all the time, but that doesn't mean YOU have to. If you are content with your natural color and your natural texture, so much that you've never desired to change it... I don't look down on you, my friend, I look UP to you! It is so rare in our society to feel self confident without a lot of extra grooming or otherwise assimilating your look to the norm, and I truly believe it is something to be admired. You've cheated the system, you not only have natural beauty but YOU SEE THE BEAUTY YOU HAVE! If you want to dip your toe in the waters of change, I'll be here. But If you don't, feeling shame about this is 100% unnecessary.  3. "Sorry, I have a lot of hair"  Its okay, I do too, so I grew up with the experience of having hairdressers being intimidated by the density of it. I'm not afraid. Also if you want less of it, that's a really easy fix that I have all kinds of sharp objects for. But the amount of hair you have is not your fault, so feeling shame about this is 100% unnecessary.  4. "Sorry you are spending so much time doing this"  Oh, you are going to pay me accordingly so there's definitely no point in additionally feeling sorry about it because I need to make a living. But also, if you're treating yourself to a hair makeover spa day, what is the point in feeling shame about it? That totally defeats the purpose of treating yourself. I call it Enjoyment Guilt and its a habit you should work on breaking.  5. "I've got a round face so I can't have short hair---"  That's where I'm going to interrupt you because that is simply untrue! If you are a round faced gal (or guy) and especially if you are a bigger fuller figured gal, I would bet money on the fact that you have been told this by a hairdresser (or several) in the past. You "CAN'T" have short hair? Personally, nothing makes me want to do something more passionately than when someone tells me I "can't" do something. Oh I can't do this? WATCH ME! And I fully intend to instill that attitude in my clientele. When a hairdresser says that you "can't" have short hair, what they are really saying is that they do not know how to give you an attractive short haircut. But that is their shortcoming as an artist, not your shortcoming as a person. I am 100% confident I can give you a short haircut that will suit your round face. You would be surprised how many times I've given someone the big chop when they wanted to "maybe just try it once and probably grow it out after summer" and they've liked it so much they keep it for a year or longer.  These are a mere 5 of MANY examples of society-induced shame I deal with every day. We are always hearing that we are not enough and I will proudly, loudly, violently fight against that. I'll go as far as saying even if I'm not the right hairdresser for you, at least GO TO ONE THAT LIFTS YOU UP, NOT BREAKS YOU DOWN. I believe ultimately my job is making sure you leave feeling better than when you walked in, whether that's a total transformation or a mere split end trim and a glass of wine.     In conclusion, there is enough shame in the world and I refuse to make it part of my business strategy.