#half rim prescription glasses

[starmocha]

12:30 PM Checkup Zayne + Son | 767 words | AO3 Zayne has an appointment with a very adorable doctor. A/N: Maybe I’m ovulating or something lmao but I want this man’s babies. But since he’s fictional, I’ll settle for writing little self-indulgent ficlets. 🫠

It was one of Zayne’s very few days off, and unfortunately, he found himself at the doctor’s office for a routine checkup. It was fortunate, however, that the doctor was someone he was very familiar with and trusted completely with his health. As a matter of fact, the very esteemed doctor was his three-year-old son and the so-called doctor’s office was his son’s bedroom.

He watched with amusement as the little boy, a spitting image of his father minus the hair color, adjusted his doctor play clothes. Zayne could barely contain his chuckle when his son put on the faux round-rimmed glasses and walked over to him holding a clipboard while maintaining a comically stoic expression on his young face.

“Patient’s name is…Daddy!” the young doctor declared, looking expectantly at his patient.

Zayne chuckled and nodded. “Correct, Doctor.”

“I have to listen to Daddy’s heart,” the little boy said, holding up his toy stethoscope. He pressed the toy to his father’s chest, and looked thoughtful as he “listened” to the grown man’s heart. After a few seconds, he nodded approvingly. “Heart is good, Daddy.”

Zayne sighed in relief. “Thank goodness, Doctor.” He blinked in surprise as his son pulled out a reflex hammer.

“Daddy’s knee now!”

Over the next few minutes, the young doctor performed a thorough examination on his patient, checking his ear, eyes, throat, and so on, all while diligently scribbling his notes down onto his clipboard. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he reviewed the notes from the wellness exam.

“Well, Doctor,” Zayne started, looking at the young boy expectantly, “Is there a diagnosis?”

The boy nodded grimly. “Daddy is tired.”

Zayne held back his laugh at the child’s acute observation. “What would be your prescription for such an ailment then?”

“One strawberry candy every day,” his doctor replied, adding another scribble to his clipboard.

Zayne actually chuckled this time. “Consider it done.” His voice took on a serious tone as he looked at the little doctor concerned. “Doctor, I believe my insurance isn’t covered under your practice. May I use an alternative payment?”

The young doctor looked thoughtful as he rubbed his chin again before holding up three chubby fingers, answering with a serious expression, “Three macarons.”

“Outrageous!” Zayne exclaimed, mock-offended, “My previous checkup only costed me one box of apple juice.”

Zayne wondered belatedly if his tone and expression might have seemed a touch stiff when he realized his doctor was starting to tear up. He knelt down to his son’s level and wiped at the boy’s eyes, apologizing softly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. Daddy is just joking.” He smiled when his son calmed down and he rubbed the boy’s cheek affectionately, “Three macarons it is, but I am afraid payment will have to be postponed until after naptime.”

“No nap!” The boy crossed his arms defiantly. “I still have to check Mr. Seal and Pan-Pan and the Windy Carrots and—”

“Even doctors take naps,” Zayne interrupted with a firm voice before softening it again, “One might even argue that doctors enjoy naps the most.”

The boy looked up at him dejected. “Do you nap, Daddy?”

“Yes,” Zayne answered with a nod as he helped his son remove the doctor costume and put away some of the toys. He gathered his son into his arms as he carried the little boy to his bed. “Sometimes I nap in my car or office in between surgeries.” He tucked his son into bed, kissing his cheek. “Now, won’t you be a good boy and take your nap for Daddy?”

“Story?” his son gave him the most pitiful pout a three-year-old can muster.

Zayne sighed, half-exasperated and half-amused. “You are just like your mother,” he muttered to himself before sitting down on the edge of the boy’s bed. “Alright, one story.”

Zayne outstretched his hand, conjuring up snowy imageries as he spun a tale with evil carrots that had taken over an innocent kingdom. Thankfully, one brave seal stood up against this evil force and taken them down along with help from Happy Snowman and its friends.

The boy watched the snowy scenery with rapt fascination as it changed following Zayne’s storytelling. As Zayne neared the end of his impromptu story, he noticed his son’s sleepy face, catching sight of a yawn escaping. He smiled to himself and quickly wrapped up the story as he re-tucked the sleepy boy into bed.

“Sweet dreams,” Zayne whispered, kissing the top of his son’s head as the little boy finally dozed off, “When you wake up, Daddy will take you and Mommy out for macarons.”

[findafight]

Not me writing a prologue for a fic I'll maybe never write about Steve being on the Dream Team lmao. I saw a pro basketball player Steve post a while ago and couldn't stop thinking about it. Anyways-

At the end of March Madness in 1989, the scout for the Pacers has lunch with the head coach of a community college basketball team that somehow made it to the first round before being pulverized. They sit across from each other, the coach seemingly a bit overwhelmed but not outright surprised. That's good, it means Jerry, the scout, doesn't have to worry about him freaking out or babbling too much.

The team captain had caught his, and possibly others', eye. Good layups, a few three pointers, solid defence, and a helluva lot of potential add up to someone to keep an eye on, except they can't because the guy plays for a rinky-dink community college and only had one televised game. The only reason Jerry saw the kid is because the Roane County Community College Ospreys had put in a hell of a fight the past three seasons. Jerry wonders why the hell the kid hadn't been offered a scholarship somewhere...not Roane County. Doesn't matter though, because they're here now.

"so. You wanted to talk about Steve?" Says the coach, August Nearaly, a bit weary.

Jerry nods, sipping his coffee. "Yeah. Wanted to get a sense of him before I actually talked to him."

August sighs. "As a player or as a person?"

Raising his eyebrows. "Is he that different off the court?"

"no! No, not like how you probably think. Harrington's a sweet kid, but also incredibly...well, not weird, but. Peculiar? He's got quirks. Bit paranoid, but not in a conspiracy way. In a 'no one should walk home alone in the dark' or 'hey, where'd John go? He was right here and then I did a headcount and he's not?' kinda way. Y'know? Like, they're all adults, but he does headcounts and worries anyways."

"huh. Oookay?"

"it-- I'm not saying this to rag on him, to be clear. It just too a while to get used to. Honestly, it's been good for team building. Makes them think of each other not as individuals, but part of a unit that needs everyone healthy and whole to work."

"that's good. He's a team player."

"oh yeah. It's not surprising, really. He's from Hawkins." August says the name like Jerry should know what that means. It's a town, sure, but other than that... Jerry's at a loss. Maybe something a few years ago about a fire? "He has most assists in Osprey history. Some of the guys joke that he's allergic to the ball."

"He's good on the court?"

"Jerry. I know you're here because you saw the March Madness game. You know he's good. He'd be even better if he could afford those fancy prescription goggles Horace Grant wears."

"seriously? Why not contacts?"

"don't make them for his prescription. You didn't see his interview? Kid's got thick horn rimmed glasses. Too many concussions apparently. God knows how he tells players apart when the jersey colours are similar."

"shit. That's why he was squinting the whole time? I thought he was just stressed."

He shrugged. "eh. Probably a bit of both. He takes it seriously, but not too seriously. Y'know? Half the guys were shitting themselves from nerves and Harrington stands up in the locker room, hands on his hips, and gives a speech worthy of the most melodramatic underdog sports movie."

Jerry laughs. "No shit."

Waving his hands, August nods. "no shit! He says all this stuff like 'we worked hard...we deserve this...we may not win but let's do our damn best. The worst that could happen is we lose, and that isn't the end of the world. So let's go out there and play some basketball!' or something, his was better, and the boys cheer. Then they put in fifty points to one-thirty."

Jerry winces. "Must have hurt, huh?"

August grins. "No way. One of the best games they ever played. You saw it. You wouldn't be here if you hadn't. They played their goddamn hearts out." He leans forward. "My boys don't have the same facilities as the big universities, or the funding to offer scholarships. They're at Roane Community because they want a degree or certificate but have other responsibilities. Parents or siblings to stay close to, jobs to work, people to take care of. They joined my team because they like playing basketball, loved the game and wanted to spend some of their precious time playing it. They put the work in on the court and off it. And we made it to the NCAA tournament because of it. We put in fifty points against the goddamn Michigan Wolverines! The champs! And they knew that. I've never heard of a locker room after an 80 point defeat so happy."

"seriously?"

It's all pride when Coach Nearaly says "yep. They may not be the best basketball players in college, but my god, they're probably the best team."

"because of Harrington?"

"partly. They all contribute, make sure they do things right. It's not a one man show, that's the point. They rally around him, but they all are part of the team, and know it. That's what Steve makes sure. Why I made him captain."

"So, you think he'd be a good pick for the Pacers?" This is, after all, a business meeting.

August nods, picks at his pancakes. "I'll be honest with you Jerry. You're not the first scout to talk to me about Steve."

"really? Who?"

"you know I won't say. But, between me and you, Steve's Indiana born and bred. His wife's planning on getting some lib Arts degree in Chicago or Indy, and your offer might be the deciding factor for them."

Jerry blinks. "He's married? At, what? Twenty-one?"

August nods. "Just turned twenty-two. High school sweethearts or something. Obsessed with each other." He chuckled, a bit ruefully. "I'm a bit jaded but damn. You mention her name? He lights up like the fuckin Fourth of July."

Jerry whistles. "Honeymoon phase gets us all."

"for almost two years? Nah. It's just love." It sounds a little wistful, coming from August. "Anyways. I dunno if the other team is serious about him, and if they are, they'll probably be disappointed. Kid isn't moving out of the Midwest. He's got family here, and is getting a goddamn elementary education degree. He won't uproot his life for a chance at the NBA. But, if you offer. Well. He'd at least seriously consider it."

Humming, Jerry chews his eggs as he thinks. "You think he'd be up for the lifestyle? The road games out numbering home ones?"

There's an air of seriousness when August levels Jerry with a look. "If he doesn't want to, he'll tell you. You gotta give him time to talk to his family though. This offer? It'll come out of left field for him, even if I give him a heads up. You get that, yeah? You want to recruit a kindergarten teacher to the NBA without any build up. He needs time to process that and then see where the people in his life are at with it."

"I guess it is unusual."

"try being the community college basketball coach getting two goddamn calls from NBA scouts. Thought I was hallucinating."

Jerry laughs, counts some bills for the tip. "Thank you. For your time and insights. Let Steve know I'll call tomorrow?"

"will do. He'll still probably drob the phone on you, though."

"as long as he doesn't hang up!"

[wannaeatramyeon]

SAMUEL SEO FLUFF >>>>>>

Honestly. Why are we all simping for this unhinged man? Present company included. He's an absolute menace to society but for some reason I just want him to be happy and at peace.

Samuel Seo x Reader: Spectacles

You hover in the store, trying on different pairs of glasses as a way to kill time.

Lucky for you, your vision remains 20/20. No matter how many times you were scolded to not sit too close to the television, stare at a screen too long, or read with proper lighting, you have avoided the need for specs.

Still, it's fun to accessorise.

An arm snakes its way round your waist while you admire your reflection. An outlandish and aggressively pink pair of frames rests on your face.

"Beautiful as ever," Samuel eyes follow your movement, "But I'm not sure you need those."

You feel your lips lift at the compliment as you return them to the stand, "How did it go?"

"Fine, still the same prescription. We can go grab some lunch now if you prefer?"

"Wait, hold on," You wander to a collection a few displays over. "I found some glasses that I think would really suit you!"

You hold out a particularly obnoxious pair, horn-rimmed and tortoise-shell. Samuel lets out a snort, and indulges you. He takes off his own stylish and sophisticated glasses and hands them over, his eyes flashing playfully.

As soon as he wears them, you can't help bursting out laughing. He inspects himself in the mirror and snickers too.

"I've worked my way up, just to have my reputation destroyed by these. I'm not sure anyone at work would or could take me seriously."

One after another, you hand him multiple styles. Each somehow more distasteful and objectionable than the last - round and owlish ones, excessively thick purple frames, another comically oversized that takes over half Samuel's face, aviators reminiscent of dodgy men from the 80's.

Between your giggling and his chuckling, the next 30 minutes passes by in a blur.

Upon returning back the final pair, you couldn't help but comment earnestly, "You're so handsome, Sammy. I think you actually could pull off any of these."

Samuel rewards you with a self-satisfied smile, "Come on Y/N, are we done here?"

"Hmm... What about contacts?"

"What about them?"

"Just at the weekend or whatever. Maybe it would be nice to actually see your eyes y'know," You hesitate slightly, "Without a barrier."

Without a barrier? All his life, Samuel had been building a wall around him. An impenetrable fortress. His glasses have become his shield to the world. And now you want him to start to break this down for you?

He reflects on the past 30 minutes of silliness, the days and nights and months and years spent with you. Both the deep, meaningful conversations and the light hearted banter. The secrets and hopes and dreams shared with promises to always remain loyal.

Maybe it would be nice, he agrees.

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 16: Glasses

Find all my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream has started coming around more often. Their meetings have turned weekly rather than centennial, much to Hob’s surprise. Perhaps whatever happened during his mysterious disappearance changed him more than Dream lets on. Hob is trying his best to keep his pining to himself. It’s much harder now that their meetings are not only more frequent but go on for hours, talking well into the night until the New Inn closes.

About a month and a half into their new routine, Hob has his yearly visit to the optometrist. The accessibility of glasses over the past century and a half has greatly improved his ability to see up close, after centuries of wandering around a blurry world. He’s been wearing contacts for many years, helping him appear younger. But now, he’s decided it’s time to switch over to glasses, where the transition in styles can make him age. It’s funny how easy it is to trick mortals with a few accessories. He ordered a more stylish pair to start, rounded lenses and thick tortoiseshell rims.

A couple of weeks later, the glasses come in. They frame his face well, making him appear distinguished but not too old. He immediately puts them on, eager to get the adjustment period that inevitably happens with a new prescription over with. He goes through his day, lecture in the morning, office hours, endless hours of answering emails, until he heads back to the Inn for his weekly meeting with Dream.

While he waits, he decides to grade some papers. This course doesn’t have a TA, not enough students to warrant an extra hand. He doesn’t mind, he loves giving feedback on papers, but it does eat up a lot of his time. Better to do it while he waits for Dream to arrive. He hears the door creak open but doesn’t look up from his work.

He hears a chair being pulled out and a cloud of black appears in his peripheral vision. He looks up and grins.

“Hello, Dream.”

“Hello, Hob.” His eyes are wide open, studying Hob. There’s a look in his eye that oddly reminds Hob of their meeting in 1789.

“Er, I got new glasses. Helps me with faking the process of aging?” Hob says, trying to explain the appearance change.

“I see,” Dream mumbles, leaning forward and nearly knocking Hob’s pint glass over. “They become you.”

Hob feels his face heat. He thought that he looked handsome in the glasses, but he hadn’t expected Dream to say anything.

“Th-thank you,” he’s able to stutter. Hob stares at the papers in front of him. Has Dream figured him out? Is he toying with his affection? If only his oldest friend wasn’t so damn inscrutable sometimes.

Dream, still leaning across the table, reaches a hand out to grab his jaw, thumb brushing the dimple of his chin.

“I had not known you needed an aid to see. Had you mentioned this, I could have provided you with this tool much earlier. Although, I did not wish to interfere in your life.”

“That’s… that’s not necessary, Dream. What’s done is done ‘n I got by fine for most of my life.”

“I do not doubt that. However…” Dream trails off, staring at Hob with an intensity that is not doing anything to lessen the redness in his face. Hob stares back, noticing when Dream’s eyes flick to his lips. He swallows, trying to keep his shit together while Dream is touching his face.

“However?” Hob repeats.

“However, I find myself unable to resist my own affections any longer.” Hob hears the chair scooting back on the wooden floor and then Dream’s mouth is on his own. He doesn’t have time to even process what’s happening before he’s rising from the booth and kissing Dream back. The pile of papers falls to the floor with a thump as Hob steadies himself, deepening the kiss. Dream tastes indescribable, like the first frost of winter, a soft summer breeze laden with pollen, the heaviness of your eyes as you drift off to sleep.

Hob hears a wolf-whistle from another patron, dragging him back to reality and reminding him that they were in public. Reluctantly, he pulls back and sits back down. He ducks down to grab the fallen essays, setting them back on the table.

“Dream… what? Had I known you were that into glasses I’d have worn them much sooner.” Hob chuckles. “Do you want to talk? I’ve got a flat upstairs, little more private than, uh, what we just did.” He starts stuffing his work back into his satchel, feeling the stares of everyone else in the pub around them.

“I have been trying to resist. I did not want to expose you to unwanted affection. When I saw you and sensed your daydream, I found my ability to withhold my passions faltering.”

Hob stands and grabs Dream’s wrist, dragging him through the “Employees Only” door that led to his flat. He unlocks the door and gestures to Dream to enter, following him and shutting the door. He leads him to the couch where Dream presses himself to Hob’s side as soon as he has sat down.

“You mean, you didn’t know until now? How I feel?”

“I did not consider it until now. I do not look at your dreams. For your privacy.”

“You silly, impossible creature,” Hob shakes his head. “I’ve felt this way since the 19th century. That’s what I was trying to tell you back then. Had I known all it’d take was a pair of glasses and a daydream, we could’ve been doing this years ago.”

Dream rests his head on Hob’s shoulder, glancing up to get another look at Hob’s profile with the glasses.

“You are resplendent. I must warn you—”

“No, dove, none of that. I know what I’m getting into and I want you. Warts ‘n all. Now, kiss me again before you start self-flagellating again.”

Hob pulls Dream’s head off his shoulder and leans in, one hand on his cheek and the other around his waist. Touching Dream. It’s perfect: Dream’s scent filling his nose, his lips soft as rose petals, his deep voice transforming into needy little whines as Hob kisses him deeper. As their tongues wrap around each other, it’s like Hob has never been kissed before. Dream’s hands in his hair, pulling on the long strands as he throws a leg over Hob’s lap. Hob holds his waist as they kiss and kiss and kiss until he has to pull back for air.

“I’m keeping you, love. No matter what,” Hob says, chest rising and falling rapidly. He hugs Dream to him, rocking side to side as Dream groans with the pressure.

“I love you, Robert Gadling,” Dream whispers into his ear.

“I love you too. I’ll shout it from the rooftops. ‘I love Dream! And all it took for him to finally kiss me was a pair of glasses!’”

Dream kisses him again, only partially to stop Hob’s teasing.

[the-wax-winged-employee]

"Well, this turned out better than I thought it would."

(Mod - Hi there! Mod SCA here. I'm starting a PPT blog! Fair warning - I have NOT played or watched any of the chapters, so I am GOING TO GET SHIT WRONG. Do not flame me for it, PLEASE.)

(Icarus is 22, 6'2 with an average lean build, has short dark brown hair, and also had hazel eyes. He also wears rectangle half-rim prescription glasses. The kind you find men wearing in anime.)

(Don't be fooled by his scrawny look - he's actually quite strong, as he works out in his spare time, and also knows how to fight due to his past as a gang member. Also due to this, he has no problem with violence, should he deem it necessary.)

(He wears a brown leather jacket with a grey undershirt and has brown sneakers.)

(He is also now the adoptive father of @the-crafty-unicorn)

(People he has met so far:

@the-crafty-unicorn - Crafty (His daughter)

@dogday-shines-bright - Dogday

@bearhugs-from-bobby - Bobby (His sister)

@bobbybearhugs-blog - Bobby

@bunnies-go-hop-hop - Hope/Via/Hopscorch

@acat-foryournap - Bigger Body Catnap)

"Speech looks like this"

Actions look like this

Internal dialogue/thoughts look like this

(Modspeak looks like this)

(Now, with that out of the way, let's go over a few blog rules.)

(1. No NSFW. Suggestive shit is fine, but nothing explicit.)

(2. Please do not excessively tag people in the asks. @ask-playtimeco-ppt already suffers from this, and it spams the blogs tagged.)

(3. Do not vent to me here. I'm just some guy on Tumblr. If you need somebody to talk to, go to someone you actually know and trust.)

(4. I am in no way associated or partnered with Mob Entertainment. Icarus is an OC of my own creation and should be treated as such.)

(Important tags:

#Icarusanswers - Ask posts

#Waxedreblogs - Reblogs

#wingedrambles - Standalone posts)

(That's all for now. Have fun, and try not to traumatise the poor boy too much!)

[thespianinthebackcorner]

@agent-marusankisser I found out interesting things and I need to talk about them to someone.

I have the Half-Rim Glasses in-game and I found out that they're convex lenses. They're flat lenses but still convex. Which if I assume they're prescription glasses means Half-Rim is farsighted, which is a bit funny for a Splatterscope user. He can see halfway across the field but come up near him and he's got no idea who you are 😂 fitting.

Marusan's Circle Shades are convex too, although I don't think he'd keep the sticker on them if they were prescripted, so I assume they're just for fashion purposes (that, or he just needs them so that the sun doesn't get in his eyes when he's researching his plants.)

[gutsybitsies]

what's love got to do wi' it

from this post, also shoutout to @kingburu for my first glimpse into pipianca and now here we are.

-------

Two dames in dark bar croon out a lovely jazz duet, as the band behind them thump out a funky beat.

Piper swirls a glass of red wine, the nicest the one this dingy hole has to offer, as she waits for her date to slither in. She's dressed up for this occasion, wearing her nicest boots and cleanest shirt and jeans combo. She borrowed Jason's old glasses and took out his prescription lenses, so that the golden frame brought out her kaleidoscope eyes. Her hair is no longer the choppy waves it was in her teens, and she'd managed to put it in an "elegant but effortless" bun. 

He's late. She frowns at the taste of the wine.

Someone smoothly slides into the seat next to her, but he's not who Piper is waiting for.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here? Let me buy you something stronger, sweetheart," he croons disgustingly. He looks likes if a scientist did a horrible experiment with a potato and created a man whose blandness was offset by his inherent creep factor. 

"Not interested, leave me alone," her dark hooded eyes give him an unimpressed lookover and return to gazing inside her wineglass. Bubblegum pink lipgloss kissed the rim of the glass. 

"Let me show you a good time, I promise I'd make it worth your while-" the man was inching his arm around Piper, but before she could kick him where the sun don't shine, a hand reaches out to push him back and a figure shoves himself between her and the asshole.

"Hey," he says dangerously, his dark eyes glinting with madness, "What do you think you're doing, moving on my girl?"

Piper grimaces, but lets the charade play out. Nico looks crazy and creepy, and if that kept more guys off her back, then so be it. His hair is a greasy mess, and his leather jacket has obvious tears in it. Piper doesn't want to be racist, but what's the point of fake dating an Italian if he doesn't even put in the effort to dress up? If she can put on mascara and lipgloss for him, he can at least wash his hair and shave his five o clock shadow. 

Nico moves in on the asshole, his small frame pushing up against him as he dares the other guy to make any kind of move so that he can unleash hell.

"What the fuck man-whatever, who'd want an ugly bitch like that?" the guy slinks away in shame, huffing.

Nico scoffs and slithers into the seat that the asshole vacated. "Pussy," he says.

"That's sexist," Piper reproaches him. She downs the glass of wine and nudges him to get her another glass. "You owe me."

"Yeah, yeah," he orders two shots of whiskey for them both, and the two of them pretend that they're on a nice and interesting date for half an hour for the very obvious paparazzi lurking behind them trying to take a shot of Piper, before Nico slides his arm around her and they leave the bar,  tripping over their feet as Piper hails a cab to take them to Nico's place. 

Nico's hand is dangerously low on her back, so Piper takes the initiative to slap his ass. They see a flash out of the corner of their eyes.

He glares at her.

"The cake is a lie," she whispers in his ear. "Someone needs to do more squats."

They don't let up in the cab, pretending to giggle at each other while playing with the other person's hair. They fool around all the way till they reach the front of Nico's house, where he fumbles around with his keys and unlock the front door, before picking Piper up and carrying her through his door.

The moment he kicks his front door closed, he unceremoniously dumps her on the couch and goes to the kitchen to pull out his dinner that's being kept warm in the oven.

"Hazel came over to use my kitchen and left lasagna," Nico explains, giving Piper a plate before digging in. "She's been stress cooking a lot recently."

"Poor Hazel, is she worried that much about her debut?" Piper asks, "She can keep stress cooking though, this is divine."

"Yeah, her boyfriend has no idea about our family, he thinks she's a struggling graphic designer instead of, y’know, this," Nico gestures around his opulent home. "Guy doesn't even have a range hood or a gas stove. Whatever, here's the files you asked for."

He throws a USB at Piper, who catches it in one hand. She grins in excitement. "I knew you'd come through!"

"Yeah, yeah, don't know if it can hold up in court though," he says. "Your dad, he's doing better?"

Piper's smile fades a little, "He's still booking roles, but he doesn't listen to me when I try to tell him about all the shady financial dealings the production companies and his agent is involved in."

"You're the only one who believes me," Piper continues forlornly. "Even Jason thinks that I'm overthinking."

"That’s because Jason is a cop bastard," Nico shrugs. "I don't know what's so difficult to believe about a production company partnering up with shell corporations to use hundreds of millions of dollars in film making to launder money for various arms dealers and drug smugglers. At least now you can make headway," he nods at the file that Piper's clutching in her hands.

Nico looks Piper up and down, "By the way, you said you were going to meet me in your nicest 

outfit."

Piper looks at herself, "I look nice in this outfit."

"Aren’t you a private investigator? Don’t you have a closet full of disguises? You couldn’t pick the nicest one? You're going to look better at our engagement party, right?" Nico asks, because he's a little shit.

Piper rolls her eyes, and doesn't argue because he's done her a huge favor. “Got it, promise I’ll look like the perfect trophy wife. Then I'll come in you can announce me to your family and business acquaintances, and I'd simp over your every word, and laugh at all your jokes."

"Good," Nico replies, not catching on to her sarcasm. "When I take control over the company, I'll be able to help you a lot more."

"Why doesn't Bianca have to be engaged to take control of her shares?" Piper asks. "You said that she's been in shareholder meetings ever since she turned 18."

Nico groans, "I know, it's not fair! She's father's chosen successor. I have to fight for scraps and dignity. You'd meet her at the family dinner next Friday, try not to be put off by how stuck up she's becoming."

Piper showers and changes into the fresh pajamas that Nico keeps in his place, before climbing into his spacious guest bedroom and sighing at the soft mattress and even softer pillows. When she’s in the liminal moment between wakefulness and sleep, she hears the front door being open and a rich female voice with a soft Italian lilt call out, “Nico? I know you’re awake.”

For some reason, the voice sent shivers down her body. She couldn’t make out more of what the woman is saying while she drifts off to sleep, but she lets the timber of what she could hear settle down into the most intimate part of her ears as she melts into the bed and passes into the land of slumber. 

When she wakes up, Nico is in the kitchen banging pots and pan together as he makes breakfast for the two of them.

“Change of fucking plans,” he says. “Forget meeting the family before the engagement, we’re announcing it this Saturday.” 

“This Saturday? Isn’t that-”

“Hazel’s debut? She doesn’t care, we’re taking over the headlines, I’m proposing to you in front of everyone. Fuck this shit, cazzo!” He curses as a drop of oil sizzles on his skin when he breaks the egg over the hot pan with more height than intended. “Fuckin’ Bianca, telling me what to do, she’s not my boss!” 

Piper’s seen Bianca in the various family photos that Nico had around his home, and occasionally she scrolled by pictures of her in the socialite news and on instagram, but she’s never seen Bianca in person before. “Did she come by last night?”

“She did, she said that this engagement is a bad idea, she wants me to meet a woman from another family. The Lawrences. She can’t tell me what to do, she hasn’t taken over yet!” Nico turns to Piper and points his spatula at her. “Mclean, I need you to be on point this Saturday. You need to be the most beautiful woman in the gala. Get someone to slap some makeup on your face and show off whatever straight men like. I don’t know, womanly shoulders? That’s what’s sexy right now right? Show off your shoulders.” 

Piper makes herself a cup of coffee as she watches Nico frantically make a mess of his kitchen.

“BOOBS!” He snaps his fingers in a eureka moment. “That’s what they like! Piper! I need you to-”

“Don’t say another word,” Piper smiles dangerously, and Nico sheepishly complies. “Nico, look at me.” 

He looks at her, and Piper brushes her hair away from her face as she flutters her lashes at him. Nico continues to look at her blankly, with a what am I supposed to be seeing expression on his face. 

“Ugh, you don’t understand how hot I am,” she complains. “Just trust me, I’ll knock everyone’s socks off for you.” 

She twirls a strand of her hair and blows a kiss at Nico, who raises an eyebrow and goes back to making the two of them a hearty breakfast. He shoots her a comeback, “Why aren’t you this good at flirting with women you’re actually attracted to?” Piper winces, that stings.  

Nico continues to hum as he moves around in the kitchen, and Piper focuses her eyes on the various photos that he has on his walls. She’s met Hazel before, her almost golden eyes and bright grin shine out from the frames. She’s never met Bianca, but she looks into her dark eyes as Bianca smiles gracefully into the camera, and Piper could almost hear her sultry voice in her head accompanying her dark gaze. 

“Breakfast is ready,” Nico interrupts her thoughts to place a huge plate of food in front of her. 

“You spoil me, future husband,” Piper blows a kiss and giggles as Nico pretends to shoo her kiss away. 

He plops down across from her with his own plate of food and begins to dig in.

Piper groans around the shakshuka that Nico made. He’s not a natural cook, but being the only boy with two sisters who demanded (Bianca demanded, Hazel asked politely) that he wait on them hand and foot meant that he could bake, cook, and clean with the best of them. 

“You’re going to make someone a very, very happy husband one day,” Piper reaches over to pinch his cheeks. 

“Not if those old assholes don’t die anytime soon,” he says. “If they start talking to you about kids, just tell them we plan on having three.” 

Piper chokes, “Three?! Nico!” 

“What’s one more lie?” Nico asks. 

“You’d drown with just one kid, you can’t deal with three.” 

The two of them bicker and eat as the morning light dapples them with softly shining kisses. The cool  breeze gently ruffles through their hair as they gather their dirty dishes and put them in the sink, before Piper attacks Nico and drags him to the bathroom to rinse water in his hair. 

“Why are you so strong?! Stop!” He tries in vain to struggle out of her grasp, but she has an iron grip on his neck. 

“You better stay still when I shave you later.” 

“You won’t dare!” Nico gasps. 

Piper waves a cheerful goodbye to a newly shampooed, blow dried, and shaved Nico, and he gives a wave back before slamming his front door in her face.  

She takes the bus back to her home, a condo she just moved into this year, and settled in front of her computers. Piper makes herself another cup of coffee and cracks her neck, she plugs in the USB file Nico gifted her, and goes to work. 

The files were a lot, it had all the dealings that Pom Corp, Nico’s family’s holdings, had with the Triumvirate holdings. 

Ledgers, mergers, deals, as well as pages and pages of email chains. She prints everything out and begins to sort through them before adding them to the other mountain of stacks of files she’s already compiled on the Triumvirate Holdings. Five cups of coffee later, she wakes from her bleary daze of concentration and notices that she ran out of her instant coffee mix. She debates cracking open the forbidden red bull, but her stuttering heartbeat tells her that it’s a bad idea. 

Piper yawns, and cracks open the window to let in fresh air, she leans a tired cheek against the cool ledge. The sun is already setting, how has time passed so fast? Piper gets up and leaves her task to take a quick trip in the kitchen, where she is disappointed by the lack of food in her refrigerator. Piper glares at its emptiness, and spares a glance at the luscious mini herb garden that’s flourishing on the windowsill. 

“Don’t mock me,” She says to them, like a normal person would to inanimate plants. In her imagination they wiggle back mockingly. Her condo was entirely full of plants whose purpose of existence was to mock her, plants that couldn’t be transported to Hylla’s home, ones that Piper begrudgingly potted and brought to her new condo after Reyna left their shared home. 

The first week she moved out, she imagines with viciousness Reyna’s taut expression when she eventually returns to her home to see a dead garden and even more dead houseplants. Eventually Nico nags at her enough that she takes it upon herself to divide Reyna’s various plant babies between her, Nico, and Hylla’s place. 

Piper would just have to live with  less schaudenfreude that comes from thinking about Reyna’s expression on seeing her house empty of plants instead. She glares at the shelf of orchids that Reyna used to fawn over when Piper lounged around their home in nothing but a thong and a bathrobe. One of their petals take this moment to slowly fall off its stem. Piper sticks her tongue out at it, another completely normal interaction between a normal human being and her ex-fiancee’s beloved houseplant. 

“She better come back from her worktrip soon and get these assholes out of my place,” Piper mumbles to herself as she pulls out her wallet and shoves it into her cargo shorts. She’s given up on cooking, there’s a Thai place nearby with good vegetarian options that she’d shove her face into. 

There’s a fancy pale green electronic vehicle parked right in front of Thai To-Go! when Piper leaves the store with her curry and Thai iced tea, but she doesn’t notice it until she’s barrelling into the owner who took that exact moment to come out of her car and make her way to the restaurant. 

Piper yelps as her curry spills out through its poorly packaged container, and as it splatters out of its plastic bag and onto the very expensive looking white blouse that the driver was wearing. 

“My curry!” She gives a look at the frowning woman with her dinner all over her clothes, she looks vaguely familiar but Piper couldn’t place her face at the moment. “And your shirt! I’m so sorry, are you okay? How hot is it?”

The woman gingerly pinches the shirt so that the worst parts of the spill isn’t touching her skin directly. “I’m fine, it certainly is quite hot. Smells nice, good to know the place Google picked is delicious,” She jokes, her dark eyes crinkle up in a smile. It’s only at this time that Piper notices how beautiful the woman she embarrassed herself in front of is. Her olive toned skin glinted in the waning sunlight, and her eyes were shaped like drooping black diamonds. She towered a few inches above Piper, and her voice was lulling with a slight accent. 

“I, um, I live above the restaurant,” Piper points at the direction of her place. “I have a spare shirt, let me make it up to you, I don’t want you to walk around with a spill like this because of me!:

The woman’s eyes brighten up, “Thank you, that would be very helpful.” 

She follows Piper up the stairs, walking a little bit closer to Piper than she was used to. Piper could almost feel her dark hair curling up against her own skin, as the strange mix of curry and what the other woman smelled like twisted together in the air. She recognized the scent as pomegranate scented perfume, it was very similar to the bottle that Nico had gifted her last Christmas. 

Piper leads the mystery woman into her condo, thanking the heavens that she didn’t have any time to create a mess since she last cleaned it up two days ago. The only mess was in the walkout alcove that doubled as a terrace in the summer and a greenhouse in the winter, it was what made Piper fall in love with this place. Currently it’s littered with Piper’s bookbinding projects and beadwork designs.  

“Feel free to take a shower,” Piper says, well, squeaks. It’s been so long since she was near someone who was her exact type that she’s forgotten how to emote properly. 

“Thank you,” the woman says again. “I wanted to ask, because I have a meeting in a while, but I was afraid it’d be awkward.” 

“No, not awkward at all!” Piper shoves a towel in her direction. “I’m going to get a shirt for you!” 

Piper rests her head against a wall and tells herself to get it together. Now is not the time to be attracted to mystery woman! She hears the shower in the bathroom start to run, and realize that she hasn’t given the woman a shirt yet, so Piper rushes to her room and rummage around her outrageously sized closet for a generic white blouse. She scrolls through her phone while she waits for the woman to finish showering, and texts Jason so he can receive her inner screaming. 

Piper: THERE’S A HOT WOMAN SHOWERING IN MY PLACE RIGHT NOW. 

Jason: Nice, good job! Knew you could do it! 

Piper: no :( she’s only here because i spilled curry on her. 

Jason: Oh that’s a real meetcute. But aren’t you and Nico “dating”? Is this the best time for hot women

Piper: nothing’s going to happen, she’s just borrowing my shower

Jason: Oh...is that a good sign or a bad sign...? 

Jason: Will Nico be at your place soon? I have to return the tupperware Hazel gave me. 

Piper: didn’t i already give you hazel’s number? 

Jason doesn’t reply for a while after Piper’s last text, which is just as well because it’s at this moment that the woman walks out of Piper’s shower looking like she was wearing nothing but a towel. 

Upon a second glance, Piper realizes that she was wearing her slacks and a bra underneath, but covering her shirtless top with the towel. 

Piper’s eyes locks onto her, the steam billows out from behind her. 

The woman’s eyes trace over Piper’s body, and the towel falls to the ground. 

“Oops,” she says, still looking at Piper. 

Piper slowly lets the blouse in her hand flutter down to the  ground as well. She sees that the woman’s waist had a tattoo wrapped around it, it was a scene of a hunt.  Under her ribcage on the right, a beautiful stag was rearing its hooves and attempting to escape the arrows of a huntress under the left side of her ribcage and closer to her abdomen. In the center of her chest, Piper sees a tattoo of a skeletal horse head. 

“Want to take a closer look?” the woman offers, and Piper walks closer as if mesmerized. 

“It’s beautiful,” Piper’s hand hovers over the designs before the woman gently guides fingers to trace the lines of her ink. 

“This is from when I was a teenager, it’s my first one.”

“It’s so intricate,” Piper feels her minty breath and breathes in the heady scent of her perfume- did she reapply her scent? It feels more overwhelming, she keeps moving closer to the woman who keeps backing away and beckoning Piper forward. “It must’ve hurt a lot, especially if it’s your first time.” 

Piper’s the one who’s backed the woman into the wall, yet she’s the one who feels trapped as the woman casually leans against the wall as she loosely circles her arms around Piper’s waist. Piper lifts up her face and is met with a kiss, her lips are soft and she tastes like how a beautiful moonlit evening in the spring feels. Her arms gather Piper closer, and Piper melts at the gentleness and circles her own arms around the woman’s neck. 

Their kisses don’t feel like a lust fuelled frenzy. Rather, they take their time, their kisses punctuated by little nips and cheeky tongue swipes. Piper feels the stranger’s hands come up, one cupping her face and the other placing a strong hold on the back of her neck. Whenever Piper gets a bit too excited, the woman squeezes her neck like she was an excitable kitten and Piper shamefully backs off, only to be met with more kisses and gentle nibbles against her throat. 

Just as Piper was finally about to take the bra off of her mystery seductress, a cellphone rings and breaks the two of them out of their reverie for each other. 

“Cazzo,” the woman curses adorably and in a slightly familiar way. “Sorry, I almost forgot about my meeting. What’s your name? I also forgot to ask.”

“Uh-” Piper’s still reeling from the haze of her first makeout session in years with someone who wasn’t Reyna. 

Her phone rings again, this time it sounds even louder. She walks briskly to the blouse that Piper dropped and puts it on, grabbing her phone in the meantime and takes out a business card. She winks at Piper and slides it inside Piper’s shirt.

How was Piper supposed to speak when something like that happens? 

“Ciao bella,” She walks away to the front door and finally answers the call. “Nico, calm down! I’m five minutes away, promise, be there soon.” 

The door shuts and slams Piper out of her brainfog. 

She looks down and clumsily takes out the business card that the woman handed her. 

Bianca di Angelo 

Shit.

A/N: if you liked this pls consider giving kudos on ao3 as well <3

[skruffie]

Working in optics has opened up something in me that I didn’t think was something I’d ever do: casually window shopping for glasses. I have my prescription and PD saved on my phone and it’s kind of fun to browse the value glasses sites to see what they have. Zenni has some good options but the part I don’t like about that is how they’re auto-select a lens material for you and not necessarily explain why.

There’s three lens materials that we sell: plastic, polycarbonate, and high index. Plastic is fine for mild prescriptions but not as shatter resistant as poly is. Poly is also going to be thinner than plastic and so that’s why it’s recommended usually if you have to wear glasses full time that you go with poly. High index is the thinnest lens material and can give the best clarity but I usually only suggest it when a patient has like, a +4.00 or -4.00 (or stronger) either to correct vision and/or if their astigmatism is pretty high. I don’t think high index is as shatter resistant as poly is, but high index is able to be cut thinner than poly.

Something also that patients may not necessarily know is that if you have someone helping you shop, it’s because they also can make recommendations on frame style with your prescription. The outlines with the high index I mentioned above would work great in a frame that is fully enclosed but maybe not so great in a half-rim. The half-rim involves a thin wire holding the bottom of the lens into the frame, and even when you cut the edge as thin as possible it’s still going to look pretty thick. If you have a super strong prescription, like + or - 10, a thin metal frame might not work even with high index. Your temples might not close all the way because the lens will still be thick.

Zenni is like “here you go, this is what we recommend!” but you can’t sit down and talk with a person about why that is recommended.

The anti-capitalist in me also slightly resents how with something like high index you’re basically locked into getting a non-glare. The material for high index is really reflective and to give you the best vision possible you’re going to need a non-glare, but both high index and the best non-glare options cost way more out of pocket. Insurance rarely covers these options in full.

[brooklynislandgirl]

"I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to set you up on dates, Bethykins. Your brother might actually murder me." Before the server could put the offer into words, Tabby liberated a pair of champagne flutes from his possession, passing one to Beth and keeping the second for herself. Tabby never minded being a Riley-plus-one for these galas, except really, she felt Beth could do better. "But if we were playing hypotheticals, let's see. Definitely no one here, and I wouldn't let my worst enemy near that Bruce Wayne dude without a double dose of antibiotics." Tabby tapped the rim of her glass against pouted lip, trying to aid the thought process. "You deserve someone heroic. Or an actual superhero. Maybe Superman. Or Batman even, as long as he treated you right."

Adventures in Matchmaking || Accepting Tabby is not wrong, in the technicality of her comment. But there's worse things Andy can do than murder someone, and he's elevated being annoying to an artform. This is all case-in-point. He'd accepted the invitation on behalf of the family and a guest, then purposefully guilted her into making the appearance for him when she'd much rather be at home in her pjs, reading the stack of books on her nightstand that have started cultivating their own society they'd been there so long. Not that she doesn't love Tabby or her company. That's the only reason she agreed to go instead of threatening to stab her brother in the kidney. Beth drains half her glass in a single gulp, so very unladylike, and nods her thanks to her friend. Her eyes roll beneath thick, mascara-encoated lashes. "You know, Mistah Wayne's problem is...he's alla Andy's bad traits an' none of da good ones. Broody, moody, brilliant but no sense of humour an' ya right. I would nevah wanna be his personal physician. Dey would investigate my license, for over-writing prescriptions." Maybe the champagne has loosened her tongue. Maybe deep down Beth is just as snarky as her absent sibling. She laughs over the whole metahuman remark. She could never imagine herself being romantically involved in someone whose wardrobe primarily consisted of spandex and masks. "See I jus'...I don' get why people fawn all ovah Supahman. I mean yeah he's an alien, an' by all standards da epitome of whatevah-whatevah...but like... is he even compatible wi' humans? We don' really know anyt'ing about him except he save da world sometimes an' he can fly...but...eh..."

Clearly Beth has given this some thoughts. "Same same for Batman. Also... what's wi' da name? Don' get me wrong, bats are really cute an' really soft, an' very important part of da equal system, but how does dat correlate to a crime-fightah in tights? I don' get it." A longer, more thoughtful pause and she looks Tabby in the eye, her voice quite a bit softer. "I t'ink...for reasons...I would hafta choose da Ali'i of Atlantis, or his rival, King Shark. Although, I've gotta admit, if my preferences were to remain in da realm of mortal man, I sorta kinda hope one day Lex Luthor save a dance for me." They both know though that she's really scanning the crowd for her con-man of a magician, John.

[phantombs]

Tangled. Cường and that wolf he keeps ride a shared and strained wavelength. / Content warning(s): Drug use (pain killers).

The water’s gone lukewarm.

The faucet yet plonks with a steady rhythm all drip, drip, drip.

Cường’s knees hike up further, flush against the cool, porcelain tub, and bleeds out the last of his pain-wrecked shivers. His body’s smoldering, withering with a swallowing heat, and there’s fires in his veins on a conquest, rolling and devouring.

His belly. His chest. Swamped in his lungs with tendriled smoke.

Hahahaha. Not feeling well, boy? a sneer chortles from within him, dragging and unkind – like nails, beastly through ungiving soil. Cường blinks lazily, gaze swimming and lost upon the backsplash of his bathroom tiles, dim with the diluted citylights in his living room, and deigns to answer. His finger taps idly beneath the water, light against the skin of his bitten thigh.

Oh! Swimming in it, the poison you like so much.

It flickers now, his eyes, to the toilet tank crowned with a tissue box, a popped-open prescription bottle.

“Yes,” he says more than he thinks he thinks.

Another laugh, trembling with the depth of an ocean plunge.

It’s becoming clearer to me how you aren’t likely to handle me alone. But that, I’ve known.

Cường looks back to the tiles, condensation dribbling obscure patterns in his oxy’d daze, and slips further beneath the lapping water. Maybe, he thinks back, dark hair splaying atop the surface, feathered out and mermaid-like.

His tongue’s fat like cotton, and his head’s slowed like tar, leaking, messy, an oil drum riddled with holes.

Everything’s becoming more than he can handle. He could bring his palms together desperately to hold the leakage, but the flow, he finds, is on a tireless, unending current. He doesn’t trust his muscles to speak anymore.

So, he doesn’t.

Cường’s fingers roam, gentle against the teeth marks marring his leg.

Do you hate me? the question comes, tinged with a flavor of laughter.

A car honks far, far away, somewhere beneath the yawning height of his dingy apartment, and Cường thinks on it. He breathes, water rippling gently to his gusting exhale, and lets the bleed of narcotics plunge him headlong into – bliss, freedom, a prison of unclear, water-colored thoughts. He doesn’t hate. He doesn’t much love, either, though, but he’s never been a soul to wallow in pity.

Even with the agony of turning. Even with the weeks like this, so hazy in his fragile, glass-like existence. He draws a human face on the tiles’ condensation and lets his lids shut marginally, lashes half a-flutter.

No.

Oh. Do you like me?

Silly. You’re too old to ask this. No, I don’t. I don’t like you. He doesn't like them as much he doesn’t like how his heart races with fear or love, or the way his lungs grow as he breathes in air. They only do. They simply are, he tells himself. He doesn’t hate them so much as he doesn't hate anything else. I’m just me, bruised and battered, and you in my skin are only me.

The beastly titter rings again, and he envisions it, that hunch-backed, toothy thing shuddering cruelly through his barking howl. He reclines back, head pressed against the bathtub’s rim.

You think you speak so plainly.

Cường doesn’t offer anything to that. His bathroom door’s left ajar, and he smells the burning incense wafting through.

What time is it? 7am. 8am. 10am. Night?

His naked leg straightens further, and he hazily notices a bruise on his knee.

Purpling, pretty as the season’s lavender.

But at least I keep you company, don’t I? If I’m you and you’re me, there’s no him or her or someone else for you.

Yes. Yes, I think you’re right.

Cường slips his head under the water.

I’m in so deep. You can’t get rid of me.

He doesn’t remember the care to.

[eyespecs]

Discover the elegance of Versace VE1175-B women’s eyeglasses, featuring a stylish rectangle shape and a chic gold/brown half-rim frame. Designed for both fashion and function, these eyeglasses are perfect for everyday wear, whether for prescription lenses or as reading glasses.

[iriemorning]

lately i've started wearing myopic prescription glasses during my short commutes so i can see the road signs better. it is half-rimmed with a -1.00 grade. color me surprised when i first wore it in an outing as the jeepney passed through the provinces of tagaytay and batangas. the taal volcano and lake were so freaking beautiful

it's amusing how it felt like changing from an android to an iphone camera real quick. everything was so clear. i didn't know that the world can be this sharp-looking and clear-cut as this before. even the colors were different. the photochromic lens added more realism to what i can see. like i was transported inside a movie

now it makes me look back to my past experiences with a newfound realization that my eyes were worse than i expected; that my past memories were not as clear as what i perceived it to be as it happened before my eyes...

my regrets pile up more as i look back to my past concert experience, when my vision was so bad all i could see were blurry faces and motions at the stage without squinting even if i was standing on the VIP section. my eyes were defective enough that i am sure i couldn't have seen the real bright colors of fireworks back in new year in its full glory. i hadn't known that the homecooked meals of my parents, the post-its on my wall, the face of my lover, the petals of the flowers were even prettier than what i could actually see.

having your own eyes as a handicap is deeply saddening.

but wearing those same prescription glasses that can finally correct them triggers my headaches, if worn longer than intended. so i take it off and im back to 20-percent-gaussian-blur. i guess maybe it was not meant for me to see the world that way.

maybe i'm meant to see the world like a film camera.

[frankmes]

Cat eye prescription glasses: A buyer’s guide

When you think of old-fashioned glasses, chances are that the shape of cat-eye glasses comes to mind. These frames first came to our attention as prescription glasses or clear Cat eye prescription glasses in the 1950s, but they took off when Audrey Hepburn donned elegant tortoise-shell sunglasses in Breakfast at Tiffany's Since then, this striking style has been reimagined again and again and has been popular in almost every eyewear trend for decades. Now, you can wear cat-eye prescription glasses in dozens of different ways, from vintage-style brightly colored cat-eye glasses to the subtle eyebrow arch of semi-rimless wire-rimmed cat-eye glasses. How do all these different styles of glasses come to be considered "cat's eye glasses"? While the exaggerated upper edge wing tips of the temples are the hallmark of the cat's eye, the lower edge that slopes upward to the top of the wearer's cheekbones does give the cat-eye frame its signature look. These two elements also make Cat-eye prescription glasses so attractive on so many faces. They draw the eye upward through intricate angular lines that complement the shape of the face, which ranges from round to rectangular. If you're looking for the perfect pair of cat-eye glasses, consider updating some classic styles or taking a completely modern twist on the iconic look. Classic cat eyeglasses Because Cat eye prescription glasses have incorporated many different trends in their more than half a century of cultural influence, you have plenty of cat eye glasses to choose from. For those interested in the look of vintage classic cat-eye glasses, there are several retro-chic variations. Black Cat eye prescription glasses It's the standard look, reminiscent of 1950s yearbook photos of young women wearing heavy black Cat eye prescription glasses. And they're still easy to find. While older picture frames may have some rhinestones or floral filaments on their wing tips, you can still find slightly watered-down versions. These Ray-Ban cat-eye sunglasses offer a chunky black exterior and extended wing tips. Red cat eyeglasses Red Cat eye prescription glasses are also a vintage look: these glasses don't flinch; They stand out in color and design. So, if you're looking for red cat-eye glasses, go all out, like these Moschino glasses. They add modern touches to the classic look but are just as playful and bold. Bright pink or purple cat-eye glasses also have a similar effect to red but may be better suited to your skin tone.

[marciprester]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Sophia Loren Zyloware Eyeglasses Frames M135 Womens Frames Only Pink.

[pocketsrestorations]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Luxe Blush WLO326 Half Rim Rectangular Glasses Swarovski Temple Frames.

[sharpsafe]

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These internal packages may be reused if they're accredited and permanently marked for reuse, disinfected between each use, and have a capability between two and forty gallons. If you've a small quantity or one type of regulated medical waste, you presumably can comply with the DOT tips for non-bulk packaging. Available in spherical, half spherical and square shapes with grey, white, yellow, darkish blue, pink, black, brown and green shade choices. Features embrace hinged lids, strengthened rims, built in handles, dent, crack, rust, chip, peel  resistant, non slip lifting and anti jam nesting. Suitable for lunchrooms, hallways, resort lobbies, restrooms, shopping malls, restaurants and snack areas - sharps disposal containers wholesale.

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