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innytoes · 7 months

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You have one of those 12 foot skeletons in your yard and you caught me trying to take selfies with it / Sweet Tarts

Also for @invisibleraven who asked for the exact same thing. Who knew this prompt had Carrie/Reggie vibes?

When the Wilsons celebrated, they went hard. Their birthday blow-outs were legendary from the time Carrie had been in kindergarten. Their Fourth of July drones show (fireworks were so 90s) was epic and set to their favourite music. Christmas? Their mansion was covered in so many lights they had their own generator, and every room had a Christmas tree. (The one in Carrie's room was all pink, of course.)

So of course they went all out for Halloween, too. It was pretty hard to convert a sleek white modern mansion into a spooky old Victorian house, so instead they went all out with other kinds of decorations. Like the skeletons that hung out in front of the large windows on the second floor, having cocktails. Or the ghosts hanging from the trees and railings. Or the spooky lights and glowing orbs in the pool. Or the gazillion decorative pumpkins around the place. (Again, the ones in Carrie's room were pink.)

This year's new showstopper, though, was a twelve foot skeleton that her dad brought home. He showed it off, jazz hands and all, like the dork he was, and she could only barely hide her smile even as she eye-rolled at him.

"Not cool enough?" Dad asked her. "Don't worry, I thought of that."

And then he pulled out a pair of giant novelty sunglasses from somewhere. That got her to crack, and she laughed, which made her dad beam, which made her feel gooey inside. Out in public, they had to be perfect, and cool, and flawless, but when it was just the two of them, they could goof around and be dorks.

Now, while all of October was Go Hard On The Spooky Stuff, their Halloween basically had two big nights. The first was their Big Halloween Bash, where dad invited all his famous friends and people he worked with and Carrie got to invite some of her friends as long as they all promised to be cool.

The second, which deep down Carrie liked much better, was Trick or Treating. Because what was the point of living in the rich neighbourhood if not to show off all your badass decorations and costumes and spooky playlists and wow kids with amazing treats.

Full sized candy bars? Pah, those were for the old money losers down the street. Carrie and her dad got custom made edible crystals. Kids could pick out their own colour and shape, and eat something that looked like it shouldn't be eaten. Did you want a neon green orb, or a jagged piece of quartz, or even a candy beetle encased in 'amber'?

Carrie, of course, made sure to grab some in all her Candi's colours and put them aside. (And a few pink ones for herself.)

But the big holiday bash had come and gone, and trick or treating wasn't until tomorrow, so what the hell was this guy doing in their yard?

"Aren't you a little old to be trick or treating?" she asked as she flung the door open. Usually, if someone was lurking around like that, she'd call security, but this guy didn't seem to be paparazzi or a crazed fan who wanted to murder her dad. Also, she'd shoved her taser in the pocket of her cardigan before opening the door. (It was pink. And bedazzled.)

The boy, who seemed to be about her age, yelped and flailed, nearly dropping his crappy little phone. "Sorry, I'm sorry!" he stammered. "I thought nobody was home!"

Carrie raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Is that supposed to make it better?" she asked in her nastiest mean-girl-voice.

He flushed, looking ashamed of himself. Suddenly, even with the leather jacket, he seemed a lot smaller. "I'm sorry," he said miserably. "It's just that this is the first time I've seen one of these giant skeletons in real life and I really wanted to take a selfie with it. I mean, he's wearing sunglasses and everything."

He looked so sad, like a kicked puppy, and really, she couldn't begrudge him too much. Their skeleton was pretty awesome. And he was pretty cute.

"You're never going to get all of him in frame with you like that," she rolled her eyes, grabbing her keys and demonstratively pulling the door closed behind her so he couldn't slip inside in case this was just a ruse.

She made sure to keep her hand on her taser as she passed him, but he just gaped at her. When she was far enough away to get all of the skeleton into the picture, she pulled out her phone. "Smile!" she said, and on instinct, he did. She snapped a picture, and when he realised what happened, he beamed, begging for another one.

She had to admit that the one hugging Skeletor's leg (yes, her dad had named their giant skeleton Skeletor like a massive dork) was pretty funny. As was the one where he was bowing down before it. And pretending to run away from it.

They had a little photo shoot for like two minutes, before he seemed to run out of ideas, and thanked her profusely, before moving to leave.

"Hey!" she shouted after him, and he froze in his tracks. "You have to give me your number so I can send these to you!" Okay, so he was cute but not very bright. She could work with that.

He looked a little flustered, but gave her his number to put in her phone. She sent him a test text, and his entire face lit up when he saw the first picture appear on his own screen.

And if maybe she texted him again the next day inviting him over to try one of their gourmet crystals and see the whole yard done up right for trick or treating, well, she just wanted to share the holiday spirit.

#carriexreggie #julie and the phantoms #carrie wilson #reggie peters #fanfic #I wrote a thing #halloween #oh to have a giant skeleton with sunglasses #reggie being a himbo and carrie being like: guess I'm into that #just picturing trevor and carrie's entire hallway filled with like 50 boxes of custom made gourmet candy #they have treasure chests on tables on the porch with the 'gems' in them for the kids to pick from #because fuck those old money people down the street they're gonna Win Halloween and every other holiday #(for the purpose of this fic Carrie maybe does not live in a house with barbed wire and a gate lol.)#also they make sure to compliment all the kids who are clearly Not From Around Here in their homemade or cheap costumes #because again fuck the old money gatekeeping assholes from down the street

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 2 years

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Now I am curious about the girls day with batmom, can we have it pls?

Bruce looked around the table at lunch and frowned, "Alfred where-"

"Miss Y/N took the other ladies in the house for a girl's day. Miss Cassandra and Miss Stephanie needed school clothes and Miss Barbara offered her assistance," Alfred said simply.

Bruce's frown faded slightly and he grunted, "Did they take-"

"They took the Jeep, I believe."

_________

You look at the flamboyant bald man currently trying to persuade Barbara into much longer nails and raise your eyebrow over the rim of your mimosa glass, "Roland, the girl said no," you tut. "They all do too much work with their hands to have the Dragon Talons you like designing."

Roland sniffed, "It's a pity any of you work with your hands- these callouses are a crime. What are you doing anyway-"

"Whatever they like. Don't you worry your pretty little head. Just do what they ask."

"I don't know why I bother with you," he scolded without any real heat. He bothered because you tipped well and told the best dirty jokes... but. He was still irritated that you hadn't let him bedazzle your fingertips.

"I thought it was because you like having something to complain about," you tease. Next to you, Cass smiles a little where she's watching with interest as someone applied lime green sparkly polish to her toes.

"I just can't believe Bruce agreed to pay for all this stuff," Steph snorted.

"Oh no sweetie," you laugh, "I just don't give him a chance to say no.."

'She really doesn't," Barbara said grinning when Steph's eyes went wide as she deliberated over purple polish colors. "She just declares she's doing something and if he doesn't like it, he can sulk about it."

"Charmed life," Cass said, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Roland made a soft envious sound, "Does he have a brother?"

__________

Steph eyed clothing racks and frowned, making a soft discontented sound. It was nice, being out with the girls. But it didn't magically make her mom less shit. Or the ongoing mess of her love life any less draining.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm?" you answer, holding out a shirt for her to inspect- 70's inspired. Purple. And would look nice with a pair of the flared jeans she'd already bought.

She took it, feeling the fabric and crinkled her nose at the price tag, "How did you do it?" she asked quietly

"What specifically-"

"I mean, after everything. Like- with-" she broke off the word 'cult'. Not sure if she was actually allowed to ask about that. Or about the time you left. Things that weren't really secrets but just not things you LIKED to talk about; not as anything more than a passing comment.

But when you pat her arm and add the shirt to what was laying on her arm, she gets a sense that you know.

"It took time," you answer after a moment. "But I had to make the choices that were best for me- even if they didn't make sense to anyone else. And more than that, I had to learn that it was okay to do that. That I didn't have to let my past determine my future. Any more than I ever had to be that... powerless ever again."

Stephanie bit her lip and you smile a little. "When my sister was killed," you pause and tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear, "I couldn't stop them. And I carried that guilt with me for a long time. Still do. But. I know that I can stop other girls from meeting the same fate. So- I focus on that. Because I can't control the past; or other people. All I have is right now. That's all anyone really has."

"That's- kinda depressing."

"It can be," you hum, "At least until you get used to it. There's something liberating about just saying 'fuck it' and learning to live for yourself."

Stephanie smiled. It was less rare to hear you use swear words but it still sounded funny, given that your usual curses were "Hell's Teeth" or "Son of a biscuit" around the house where the kids could hear you.

"When did you hit 'fuck it'?"

"About the time Dick and Tim gave me my new 'pet name'," you muse. "I think that's when I really figured out I didn't have to let ANYONE tell me what to do anymore."

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #mydeardove #batmom!reader #ask answered #minors dni

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sansaorgana · 1 year

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eek ofc u (and us) gotta respect your time! just wanted to check what you were g with 🙂 condensed brain worms:

- love bimbo!reader for aegon because ya gotta be mildly dumb to look at weed-soaked hentai sweater ass aegon and think that's good boyfriend material

- the crisis aegon would get when he realises he wants to stick around after they fuck makes me laugh

- she could fix him, a la 'i want to be a better man for my girl who sees everything in me', and she would praise him every time he made the tiniest effort which makes him chase more. she can't believe he washed his dick before sex. alternatively, they could both just be degenerates together. both is good.

- yk she's got fire nudes. aegon's got enough to make his own porno mag out of

- she thinks viserys is mid and alicent could do better. will say it out loud.

- she might be scared of insects but her bestie's besties are her besties. she will hold quentin tarantulino or die trying.

- if they were dating, would bedazzle eyepatches for aemond. feels like shes got a hot pirate boyfie at all times. curious to hear your thoughts on this dynamic! haven't thought it through much.

- yk she's lowkey into criston. u KNOW she is.

ty for your patience ❤️ it is a joy to see your posts 😚

thank you for understanding, darling 🤍💓

• I laughed so much at the first part omg hahaha yeah you gotta be a bimbo to love a dude like that hahaha

• when Ageon falls in love, he thinks he's actually sick and the he needs medical help because he doesn't know what's happening to him

• i think she would fix him without realizing, you know? she wouldn't even put much effort in it. she'd praise him because she loves him and it's her boyfriend and there's no philosophy in that for her but for him it means the world

• oh yeah, her nudes would be FIRE and he'd always buy her the prettiest sets of lingerie

• Viserys is a dinosaur 🦖 Alicent can do so much better and our bimbo!Reader says it out loud in front of him. she doesn't care!!!

• oh yeah she'd probably hate bugs but she'd want to be friends with Helaena so badly. once again, not because she wants something. she just finds Hela cute

• she'd be into Criston 1000% and she'd tease Aegon how hot their bodyguard / driver is 😵‍💫

• if you want me to make a post with Aemond and bimbo!Reader like the one I made with Aegon a few days go, send an ask!!! 💓

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #House of The Dragon TV Show #Game of Thrones Universe #modernhotdau

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glowmiko · 2 years

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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 🍚 . . ★ く♡ __ 🍯 ~ ANGEL ! SHENHE

cw › tit grippin' n suckin, scissoring, pet names ( baby, darling. ) soft!sub!virgin!shenhe, top/dom!afab!reader, clit rubbing, rough fingering(?) . non wlw &&. minors dni.

a/n › ik we know absolutely nothing about shenhe, but I jus wanna make her my soft baby 🥺 tis not proof read soo.. 🧍‍♀️reposted cause my tags ain't work.

. . ★ she was your everything, raising your temperature so high you could almost feel yourself exploding to dust and bits. beautiful. that was the word for her, catching your eyes with every slight turn of her head, silky hair falling off her shoulder in such swift movements. she had you whipped, without even trying she'd already swooned you with her angelic looks. hair seemingly sparkled and bedazzled in angel dust.

she was everything you've ever wanted, and now, your soft hand cups her fluffy cheek. looking up at you with such cute eyes— you could almost burst into a fit of tears. "gonna make you feel good, you want that, baby?" you spoke in such a gentle manner that shenhe could only submit herself to you. with a small gesture, she nodded, her plump tits being uncovered by the protection of her arms.

you made haste moves, pushing her back down against the soft and welcoming plush of the bed, your lips colliding with the smooth skin of her neck. a small sign of pleasure moved past your lips, she was squirming, her legs spreading and closing around your waist. you giggled, moving your head down to her breasts, a swift lick to her left nipple.

"a-ah!" her face flooded in rosy pink, her buds perking up as you lapped your tongue around her perky breasts. she was wet, oozing in arousal. she wanted you, she wanted to be explored in ways she couldn't ever imagine.

your lips did a satisfying pop, scattering pink (soon to turn purple) kisses along her tits. "feel good?" you hummed, littering her tummy in kisses. you were making rapid moves, after all, you really wanted something.

shenhe squeaked, clutching your head in her thighs, you'd pressed a kiss to her cunt— she wasn't expecting it, not yet as she was entranced in the way you fondled her breasts.

"'ts okay my darling, I'm gonna be real gentle, unless you'd like otherwise." you tossed a wink at her, spreading her thighs; a galore of glossed pussy showcased at your very sight. you flushed, cheeks warm, gentle fingers spreading her labia. you bowed down, tongue molding against her clit.

she squealed, a hand thrown at your head. "please... want more!"

who were you to deny her requests? you kissed her cunt, lolling over her clit, your fingertips pushing against her hole. she yelped again— it was cute, nearly getting an 'aww' out of you. she was perfect. you were drooling, spit smothered against your face as your rubbed your chin up and down her slit, she was shivering and you could feel her tremors. you almost thought she was crying. you could feel your lips swelling, you were so focused, tongue fastening around her pussy, your finger pumping in and out of her. You'd gone wild, your fingers nearly completely sucked into her cunt, you were rapidly moving in and out of her, her walls tightening against your fingers.

her fingers gripped your hair, "close, so close..." she chewed on her bottom lip, her ghostly eyes barely visible as she squeezed her legs around your head, the stirring in her stomach finally reaching its point. she nearly screamed, thrusting her hips against your face, riding out her first orgasm. out of breath, her chest rose and dropped in action, meanwhile, you were soaking wet, she was so damn attractive.

you sat on your legs, spreading her legs, you crossed your leg over hers, your heart dropping as you felt the slight stimulation of her pussy touching your own. "fuck, shenhe..." you were done being as gentle as a cloud, thrusting your hips, your left hand gripped her thigh, keeping her open. you moaned, her whimpers igniting you further. you slapped her tit, your body facing away from her as you used her knee to rock you farther.

"mmph— gonna cum a-again!" you made her wanna thaw into the sheets, her face so hot it drastically changed the color of her smooth skin to a blush red. your clit swabbed against hers, her eyes rolling as her teeth gripped her lips. you gasped, your hips hugging her shaky leg, your cum oozing down your thigh.

shenhe completely melted. moaning into the pillow, her body dropping in exhaustion. she came. the stimulation drove her so wild, she couldn't stop the shaking, heart throbbing so harsh she thought it'd burst through her rib cage.

you sighed with satisfaction lingering in your throat, "you're so perfect, baby."

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact shenhe #shenhe x you #shenhe x y/n #shenhe smut #shenhe x reader

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kopikokun · 3 years

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Not My Taste༄ l.dh

↳ Your youth was, to make a long story short, bedazzling. But that sparkle faded long ago, and all that it left is hundreds, thousands, of people asking: What’s next? Thing is, you don’t know either. Washed-up, overshadowed, and still unacclimated to your newfound repetitive life of solitude, your odyssey lacks direction. That is, until a friend of yours materialises bearing a solution: reality TV. Paired with a sunny co-star and a multi-talented cast, maybe this’ll be when the pivotal revelation arc you've been craving starts to take shape.

pairing: lee donghyuck x celebrity!reader (fem)

featuring: ten, jaehyun, johnny, winwin, mark, yangyang, taeyong, wendy (rv)

genre: fluff, angst, fake dating!au, celebrity!au, reality show!au, baking competition!au, enemies to lovers, co-workers to lovers, suggestive

warning(s): intense argument, negative media attention, public pressure, feelings of inadequacy, living in someone else's shadow, self-deprecation (yn's just going through it lmao), expletives

word count: 4480 words

author's note: this is far from perfect but i had loads of fun with it and it was a great change of pace. despite its imperfections/shortcomings, i hope you get something out of it! feedback/constructive criticism (either positive or "negative", so long as it's constructive) is always appreciated ♡ let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for future installations!

☆༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: 1692 (cottonwood firing squad) ✧ cigarette daydreams (cage the elephant) ✧ freakin' out on the interstate (briston maroney) ✧ fluorescent adolescent (arctic monkeys) ✧ hazey (glass animals) ✧ holiest (glass animals, tei shi)

EPISODE LIST # 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

← BACK TO NAVI.

# EPISODE 1: Five Star Shit Show

Growing up, when your father returned late from table reads, your mother would cocoon you in your feather duvet, kiss both temples, and whisper the same tale to you, word-for-word each time. Souls draw lots to determine their life's odyssey, she'd murmur. They huddle around an iridescent goblet—its mouth a gaping black hole—and draw strips woven from rainbow; seven colours on every tape, yet none the same shade. Her eyelids drooped as she spoke, lashes brushing her cheekbones, tinted golden from your bedside lamp. She always mumbled gratitude for her lot—for her husband's success, for her healthy daughter, for the roles you already had flooding in—as she fell asleep before you, soothed by her own stories.

Though you listened, you never believed, because while the notion is fantastical, it's depressing too. If everything was predestined before you could even seize your first breath, effort would be futile. Your achievements wouldn't be earned, they'd be assigned. So, perhaps out of spite, you believe everything—every single damn thing—that's happened in your life is a consequence of your actions, not because fate strummed her strings or some ridiculous goblet spewed prophetic rainbows.

But now, standing in this lurid kitchen setting with a camera crew and nineteen strangers, your mother’s philosophy sounds tempting, because there's no way in hell your choices landed you here. A reality show.

“Hey,” someone whispers, elbow jabbing your side. It’s Ten, the assistant floor manager, your friend, and the reason you're here to begin with. “How is he? You two get along well?"

The ‘he’ is Lee Donghyuck, another ingredient in the reasons for your presence. He's in hair and makeup, eyes lidded as the stylist pats his face with powder. "He's fine. Nice smile, contagious laugh." You pause. "And he's cute."

"'Course you'd say that." Ten rolls his eyes.

"Can't help that I have eyes. And I'm sure everyone here's thinking the same thing."

"So, are you glad you agreed to join this season's cast?" Ten's lips quiver with a smile.

"I only came because you threatened me."

Reality TV is for spectating, not participating. It’s something consumed when there’s nothing else to watch and you just want the day to end. When you watch Masterchef—or Masterchef Junior when you’re disinclined to Chef Ramsay’s degradation—you never think Wow, I wanna be in this. But here you are—not in Masterchef but in World’s Worst Bakers, where the worst of the worst unite for the most disastrous bake-off imaginable.

"I did not threaten you," he pouts.

"You said you'd vomit in my shoes the next time you get drunk, and you do that like every other day. Pretty sure you were drunk when you threatened me too."

"I was stress drinking! You're just jealous I didn't invite you." Bingo. He's absolutely right. "But, seriously, thanks for being down for this. I thought I was totally doomed when Donghyuck's partner said he couldn't make it."

Your cheeks warm. "It's whatever, Ten. It's not like I've got anything going on for me right now." And you're not exaggerating. Since moving out, the vapidity of your day-to-day constitutes daily deja vu. If not for your phone, you doubt you’d even know today’s date. You look back to Donghyuck. According to Ten, he's just one of the contestants who manually applied. “He really isn't one of the celebrities the casting director snagged for the show?” Ratings had tanked last year, a far cry from the first season's monumental success. The crew hoped the inclusion of a few illustrious names would restore the show's declining popularity.

"Nope, just some kid," he says, though Donghyuck's only a few years younger than him. "But he's a natural, isn't he?"

You nod. Just moments after Donghyuck capered in, people swarmed him like ants to sugar. His presence overshadows even the actual celebrities on set.

There’s a single beep—sharp and blaring—before Ten turns to scurry away. “Showtime,” he grins, tossing you a cheeky wink.

Shit, you’re really about to do this. Everyone at home's going to see what an atrocious baker you are. There's three ways this could unfold:

People will coo at your ineptitude, deem you quirky and hilarious. You'll be loved, not in the way your father is—a respectable figure in the field—but as the cooky, skittish friend whose failures are inexplicably funny.

People will boo at your ineptitude; deem you incompetent and spoiled. She can't bake because she was coddled growing up, they'll say. All she knows how to do is drink and sleep around.

Nothing happens. The show's a flop, and so are you. The media writes a few lazy articles about you at parties from weeks ago, or an ex starts shit. They’ll call you a wild card again. You'll be nothing but washed-up, a has-been, only recognisable as a vignette of your father's glory.

The final option is the best. Zero media coverage means people'll forget you. They'll stop badgering you about your next upcoming project when there is none and their expectant stares will shift elsewhere. You'll be a nobody, just like everyone else.

You don't want your parents uncovering what you've been up to since moving out either; that a reality TV baking competition is the most productive you've been since then. Your mother had only relented to your request of moving out after insistent persuasion. Your father hadn't been very keen either, but eventually he'd laughed and said, She'll be fine. The next time we see her, she'll be an A-list actress, in all the latest movies, plastered on all the billboards we drive past. We'd probably get sick of seeing her face everywhere. You'd laughed too, but guilt thrashed violently within you, tearing at your conscience. How would your parents react if you told them you wanted nothing to do with the limelight anymore? That you didn't even know what you wanted to do anymore?

You shudder the fret away. Worrying before a competition never did anyone any good. Ten weeks will zip past, and once again, life will adopt its monotonous course, as it should.

“Hey!” Donghyuck’s voice punctures your internal monologue. It’s ecstatic, like he’s known you forever, when you've only spoken once or twice before. “Ready, partner?”

No. “Not really.”

“That’s fine,” Donghyuck grins. “More fun when you’re unprepared.”

What does that even mean? “Uh... sure.”

“It’ll be fun! Don’t sweat it.” One of the crew members waves wildly, gesturing you to your station. Don’t sweat it? Just wait till I lift my arms.

Donghyuck’s affable, his elation virulent. Sure, you aren't friends, but maybe you could be. He looks like he'd be a great drinking buddy too.

Your life is your own, and you—not some shiny goblet—have decided that you're going to have fun.

Spoiler for episode one of World’s Worst Bakers: it was not fun.

It commenced flawlessly, at first. The sprightly young host, Liu Yangyang, had revealed the judges, each with their own introductory quip. As they sauntered in, you had tried to ascertain their respective cooking-show-judge archetype: the nice one, the funny-in-a-dad-kind-of-way one, and finally, the you-fucking-donut one. You’d hoped that since the competition’s meant to display the worst baking monstrosities comprehensible, the latter was exempted from the panel range.

Your efforts proved fruitless however, the saying ‘you can’t judge a book by its cover’ prevailing in the end. The panel consists of retired bakery owner Johann Wiles, prodigy baker Lee Taeyong, and home-baker extraordinaire Son ‘Wendy’ Seungwan. None of them fit into any one cliche, actually, they all possessed each quality, just in different measurements. Wow, who would've guessed people are multifaceted with many layers to their personality?, you chide yourself. Have you learnt nothing from Shrek? Now, in the final fifteen minutes, you wished you had mentally prepared yourself instead of judging people by physical appearance. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be encrusted in wet flour, sweating your ass off because your buttercream frosting won't retain its shape.

You and Donghyuck stand shoulder-to-shoulder before not a whimsical goblet, but an array of cupcakes; his arms akimbo and yours crossed.

“Why do they look like that? Why are they all melty?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, mussing his hair, wedging clumps of flour between the strands. “They look like...”

“Wet shit,” you mumble. He nods.

You tilt your head back, shoulders creaking with an ache. The other contestants seem to be doing fine. Why wouldn’t they? This first round is supposedly the easiest, meant to wean you in to the next nine weeks of baking. The judges had even distributed a recipe to minimise catastrophe. So, what on Earth had gone wrong?

“You two doing okay?”

Chef Lee’s voice is mellifluous, like spun sugar. He exudes an air of genuine concern, eyebrows bunched. One of the cameras pivots to you and it takes all of your remaining energy to not flinch.

You shake your head, while Donghyuck says, “Our frosting’s liquified, Chef.”

“Just Taeyong. Chef makes me sound pretentious,” he says, waving dismissively. Man, so you don’t even get to bark ‘Yes, Chef!’? What’s the point?

Taeyong bends forward, laser-focused on your pathetic cupcake. It was palpable from the get-go, but up close, you really marvel in how attractive he is—and how young too. How old did Yangyang say again? 25? 26? In fact, there’s an appalling concentration of attractive people here, from the unfairly gorgeous judge panel to the celebrity contestants, even Ten, a crew member, is pretty good-looking. You glance at Donghyuck, eyes roving his figure. And him. He's just... some guy. Why is he so stupidly attractive? Maybe it wouldn't hurt to try to be a little more than drinking partners.

“How long has the cream cheese been out of the fridge?” Taeyong’s flinty gaze latches onto you. God, you look abysmal right now, and you're being recorded in the same frame as two beautiful men, one of which is staring at you in a room full of equally attractive people. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, hoping to efface any smears.

“Not long. Maybe ten minutes?”

Taeyong raises a brow. “You’re sure?"

“Uh... yes?” In your peripheral, Donghyuck frowns. Did you say something wrong?

Taeyong cocks his head to one side, lips pursed, before reaching down to cup the bottom of one cupcake. “Ah,” he smiles, “did you let the cupcakes cool before frosting?”

Your heart plummets, fizzes in your stomach acid. Cooling was mentioned in the recipe, but you’d skipped it in favour of time-efficiency. You’d even told Donghyuck you’d let it cool when prompted, thinking it’d been a beneficial decision. Evidently not. “...No?”

“You need to let them cool completely on the rack before frosting, or else, well, this happens. Scrape off the buttercream. It should take about ten minutes to cool.” He sets the cupcake down, beginning to walk away. “Good luck.”

You bury your face in your hands. Ten minutes? That only leaves three, at most four, left for piping and plating. You’ll need more than luck. Then, just give up. There's nothing to lose, right? That's a dumb question, of course there is. What will people think if you can't even make it past the first round?

The cameraman lingers, and you’ve half the mind to swat it away to save face when you inevitably yank your hair out. You know you're still being filmed for the drama, reality TV thrives off of it after all. The editors will add in a tense instrumental, rich with dissonance and key changes, cut to a confessional they'll have you record tomorrow, and really milk the suspense. Maybe you should yank your hair out; higher ratings, possibly higher coin. You shake with a silent laugh. It probably looks like you're crying. That would definitely get a few clicks. What a drama queen, would be the consensus.

“Hey, hey, hey,” whispers Donghyuck, lips centimetres from your ear. He's muffling the lapel mic with one hand, the other on your shoulder. He must be frazzled, but like the excellent partner he is, he remains poised. It assures you. Maybe he’s leaning in to murmur encouragement. “Don’t you dare panic. I’m not going to lose this competition because you fucked up."

The fuck? You swivel to gawk at him, faintly aware that his lips are now centimetres from yours. “Excuse me?" you whisper, smothering your own body mic. “You’re being a dick.”

“I will be when there’s money on the line,” he hisses. Where’d that sweet guy go? The one everyone was fawning over forty-five minutes ago? The kind stranger with the lucent smile and boyish laugh? “Now, get scraping," he spits.

Then, as quickly as it erupted, his anger dissipates, eyes creasing and smile shy. He removes his palm from your shoulder and cradles your chin, thumb—which is more calloused than expected—swiping the corner of your lip, so delicate your skin prickles. You stare as he dips the digit into his mouth.

“You had some frosting on your face,” he says, uncovering his lapel mic so his pretext doesn’t go unheard. He turns to start scraping.

Your index and middle finger hover over where Donghyuck’s thumb had been. Unfortunately, there’s no time to dwell, so you stiffly resume your duties.

But you’re distracted. Your eyes keep wandering to Donghyuck, and though you pry them away, they always crawl back, more tenacious than before.

When the timer buzzes and you’re standing before the judges, your eyes are on him. When you’re presenting your cupcakes and answering questions about them, your eyes are on him. When you’re thrust to the bottom two and narrowly evade elimination, your eyes are on him. When you’ve wrapped up for the day and are reminded about recording confessionals tomorrow, your eyes are on him.

It’s only when the losing pair are sent home—a father son duo—that Donghyuck hauls you away and finally, his eyes are on you.

“What the hell is your deal?” he whispers. “You’ve been staring at me for the past half-an-hour.”

You blanch. He’s done it again; that abrupt personality flip. Just moments before he’d laughed and joked and flushed pink at praise, but now he’s snarling in your face like you’ve cussed him out. And honestly, you’re considering it.

You clench your jaw, relishing in the screech of teeth abrading teeth. Heat pulses in every crevice of your body, gripping the gummy flesh of your innards, seeping into your blood, fuelling your every thought.

Ten had been wrong. Donghyuck must have some sort of background in acting, because wow, can the bitch put on a performance. Unbeknownst to everyone here, his entire persona’s been a facade. He isn’t a kind, endearing stranger, no, he’s a conniving, sly, little prick. No, you’re not mad. You’re pleased, pleased that he’s shown his full colours, pleased that you’ve dodged a bullet. You’d been intending to exchange numbers. Imagine that! It would’ve been devastating if he’d only shed his charming glaze after you’d grown attached. You would’ve gone out for drinks, confided in him after a few, and he would’ve laid every dirty secret bare for the public to scarf down, telling the media: I never really liked her anyway.

Cuss him out. No, what would he think of you? But then again, you’re strangers. It’s not like he’s afforded you an ounce of chivalry, why should you? He doesn’t deserve even a morsel of pity or remorse from you.

“My deal? What the fuck is yours? Fine, I screwed up back there, but you didn’t have to be such a bitch about it. What happened to having fun?”

Donghyuck looks at you like you’re a moron. “Of course you think having fun means fucking about. I didn’t mean for you to disregard the steps to the recipe. It explicitly said ‘let rest until completely cooled’. You said you’d let it cool. You lied! You could’ve ruined our chances! I was being nice when I said that, but look where that got me.”

“You? Being nice? You’re the furthest thing from it.” You groan. “You’re just making a fuss out of nothing. We didn’t get eliminated and we’ll be moving on to the next round. What’s the big deal?”

“The ‘big deal’ is, that isn’t the only thing you fucked up. How about the butter that you forgot to put in?”

“I did not forget that. You did. The butter was not my fault. I told you to add it in during mixing after I left it out to thaw. Don’t try to pin your faults on me.”

Donghyuck flushes, and you swell with righteous pride. “Alright, fine, but that’s only because I was too busy picking up after your messes.”

“Picking up after my messes?” you scoff. “I’m not a child, Donghyuck. I was making no messes.”

“Holy shit,” he laughs, bitter and indignant. “You didn’t even realise that I saved your—our asses, did you? ‘No messes’? What about the frosting?”

God, does he ever quit? “What about the frosting? You upset I didn’t milk a cow and make the butter myself?”

“You forgot to put it in the fridge.“

You weave your arms across your chest. Yes, you’d prematurely made the buttercream, but it was an accident. And besides a minute or two squandered, it hadn’t reaped any severe repercussions. “No, I didn’t. I took it out from the fridge. It wouldn’t have been there if I had forgotten, now would it? I definitely remember putting it in.”

“Of course, that’s how you remember it.” He rolls his eyes. “I put it in the fridge, not you. If I hadn’t been aware of my surroundings or neglected common sense, our buttercream would’ve been unsalvageable. Your mistake would’ve single handedly gotten us eliminated. So, yeah, no big deal.”

“Okay, fine, I get it, Donghyuck. I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? You’re being so dramatic. It’s not like getting upset’s gonna change what’s already happened. Why’re you still so pissed?”

“I’m pissed, because when I win, I’m going to have to split the money with someone who did nothing but drag me down the whole way. A freeloader, riding on the coattails of my effort. I’d tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but it seems like everyone was right about you.”

You bristle. Freeloader. How many times have you heard that before? And what had he heard about you? Everyone? Who else in this room, on this set, in the cast, has something against you? A bottomless chasm of pent-up resentment behind smiling masks? Do they whisper about you behind your back? Does Taeyong? Wendy? Ten?

“The fuck does that mean? Don’t act like you know me when we only met two hours ago! Nothing? I did nothing? Are you so far up your own ass that you didn’t see how I was helping you out the entire time? So what I made a mistake? Surprise, surprise, I’m a shitty baker, Donghyuck! You are too! That’s why we’re on the show!” Your fists are curled, nails piercing the flesh of your palms. “You’re so full of yourself for thinking you pulled all the weight. You prance around smiling and laughing, bluffing about who you really are, pretending like you’ve not got a bad bone in your body, when really, you’re full of shit.”

Hurt shadows his face, but the flames of his ire are quick to extinguish it. He’s not tall, but in this isolated moment, he towers over you. “If being full of shit is what wins me this competition, then so be it. You might have come here because you’ve got nothing else to do, and hey, if you win, there’s a bit of easy cash and publicity, but there is no ‘if’ for me.” His cadence is feral, convulsing, voice cracking as if he’s trying to emphasise every word. His breaths are manic. Each syllable strangles him, pressing tighter and tighter and tighter. He’s frantic, pupils dilated, almost... terrified. “I didn’t come here—didn’t take money out to audition, didn’t spend weeks in anxiety waiting for a response, didn’t take days off my job—just to lose. So, start taking this seriously, or don’t. Get. In. My. Way.”

He’s so close; it’s suffocating. The air between you is congested with all the words uttered, so many that there’s no room left for oxygen. They taint your trachea black, shrivelling your lungs. Your exhales are stifling. The room seems to shrink. The ceiling begs to cave in. It’s claustrophobic. You want to claw at your throat, but instead, you tip forward, glaring, your voice low and vicious, “I hate you.”

Donghyuck smiles, crooked, sadistic. He stoops lower, so close you can taste his rage; tangy and sickly saccharine. “Then hate me,” he whispers. Your gaze flickers to his lips, the way he enunciates each word with escalating menace. His eyes skim your face, before he rights himself, tongue prodding his cheek. You shudder with an exhale. Asswipe. He beams, and it’s only now you notice that it’s stretched too far to be sincere. “See you tomorrow.”

Nothing happened during confessionals the next day. You had expected overt hostility, but Donghyuck was insouciant. He smiled, conversed effervescently, and met your gaze despite your blatant aversion, as debonair as before. You would’ve been piqued by his nonchalance, but yesterday’s outburst had wisened you. Lurking beneath that sunny pretence was, unmistakably, irritation; you only had to learn where to look, and yesterday’s ordeal had been a spectacular lesson in the matter.

Though he approached you with a skip in his step, and a lilt in his laugh, it tormented him more and more every time. The cracks in his charade were laughably transparent when he’d talk to you. From the too broad smile, the too high giggle, the twitch of the jaw, the dart of tongue over upper teeth, he hates being around you—despises it. Well, that makes two of us. Partner.

Now, four days since you last saw him, you smile just reminiscing about his distaste. Obviously, he’s not as unbothered by you as he tries to exhibit. Good. He can pretend as much as he’d like, but you know from experience that bottled-up aggravation is going to simmer to a boil, and just one teensy turn of the gas knob is going to make him go boom. And luckily for him—

No, this isn’t a matter of luck, this is the result of your doing, because you—not anyone or anything else—have decided you’re going to turn up the heat.

Your phone rings, buzzing on the dresser. It must be your mother, harassing you to contemplate moving back in again. Or maybe your parents found out about the show. It had just aired yesterday. Shit. You roll over in your bed, face mashed into the mattress as you blindly reach for your phone.

You clear your throat, and answer with your chirpiest voice, “Yes?”

“Why do you sound like that? Are you sick?”

“Oh, it’s you.”

“At least try to sound enthusiastic,” Ten mutters.

“Yay.”

He grumbles. “I called to ask if you’d seen the episode yet.”

“No.”

“Typical,” he groans. “Do you really not give a shit about it?”

“Should I? Why? Do I look bad?”

“When do you not?” he asks. Silence. He cackles at his own ingenuity. You can hear the grin in his voice when he says, “Anyway, check your texts. I sent you a link. Really, I had no idea you were into guys like that.”

Guys like what? But Ten’s already hung up. Curiosity nips at you, so for once, you immediately enter the Messages app after Ten’s told you to. Hopefully, whatever the hell he’s done now won’t afflict you.

He’s attached a single link; an article. An article with your face on it. Your heart lurches, palms beading perspiration at the sight of yourself. The choice of colour and font of the article is garish, something only a tacky gossip column could get away with. What are you doing in a gossip column? You’ve abstained from anything remotely scandalous for weeks since moving out, refusing to supply any ammunition your mother could use to justify you staying home. So what had soured?

‘BITTERSWEET ROMANCE?

'Just last Friday, the world of reality TV was shaken to its core when the first episode of season three of World’s Worst Bakers aired. The show pits the worst of the worst against one another in an ultimate bake-off to find out who will succeed as the best among them (is that really something to be proud of?). The show itself boasts an impressive cast from rising actor Jung Jaehyun, gorgeous part-time model Johnny Suh, award-winning traditional dancer Dong Sicheng, singer/heartthrob Mark, prodigy baker Lee Taeyong—’

Yeah, yeah, whatever. But why is your face on an article titled ‘Bittersweet Romance’? You scour the page, eyes bulging when you discover what’s been written about you.

‘...the former child star and daughter of esteemed actor seems busy on the show; busy with love that is. Introducing Lee Donghyuck, indiscriminate and humble, perhaps lacking in notoriety, but certainly not in looks. The two seem to have struck a passionate romance, seen in the clip below sharing a tender moment together as Donghyuck soothes his lover’s anxieties about the competition, even slipping in a swoon-worthy gesture. Allegedly, the two were so enamoured by each other, they were nearly eliminated! Ah, young love. Sources say they witnessed the young couple’s hurried departure for privacy the moment filming ended, and we don’t think we need to spell out what probably happened next. Though reports state the couple seem end-game, is that really a possibility considering our darling lover girl’s history? It’s public knowledge that she’s quite a wild card; who knows how she’ll break this poor boy’s heart, if it ever comes to that. Her ex-partners—’

You refuse to read further. Nausea clings to your stomach. A mixture of mortification and abhorrence batters your skull. Passionate romance? Tender moment? Enamoured? Love? And what are they implying with ‘departure for privacy’? That you and Donghyuck had a quickie while the entire crew was milling about? If only they’d heard the berating the two of you had dished out, then the article would probably be singing a drastically different tune. Temper Tantrum: Former child star lambasts her baking partner! They’d regale and call you bitch instead of censoring themselves with ‘wild card’. Wild card. Even in an article claiming you’d found potential true love, they’d wormed it in. Would they be calling you wild card even in seniority? You snort. Imagine that: an eighty-year-old you plastered across gossip columns. Maybe they’d find another washed-up star instead. They probably would. They always did.

Your phone chimes again, screen alight with a new text from Ten.

Looks like we’ve got ourselves a pair of stars.

You scoff, tossing your phone back on the dresser. Yeah, a pair of five star shit shows.

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lins-fandom-hub · 4 years

Text

sunrise

“It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”

Alanza’s eyes were wide as she looked out at the sunrise over the Black Lake, lights dancing over the rippling surface of the water like sequins on a dress. Clara only smiled and nodded at her words, humming in content.

“Yeah. It is.”

The two girls spread a large blue blanket beneath them and sat down, wrapping their school robes over themselves to keep warm. The air was still chilly, the night winds nipping lightly at their cheeks, but their smiles were just as bright as the first rays of sun that beheld their vision. It was a rare opportunity to see the sunrise over the lake right on the shore, especially when most students would rather take this time to sleep in until breakfast called their name. The peace and calm of the atmosphere draped over them like a light veil, obscuring most of the past as they drank in every second of the present.

"I'll have to say, this is probably my favourite place at Hogwarts," Alanza finally said after a few moments of comfortable silence. "You rarely get the chance to revel in such a vast open space where you can reach every possibility if you tried. Of course, any area can be vast and open if you think of it to be. In Castelobruxo, though, we don't have many wide vast spaces like this."

"It can't be that hard to see a sunrise in Brazil, though," Clara pointed out quietly.

"Oh, it isn't, but with so many things in front of you, the sun feels so far away," Alanza said. "But here, it's like you're up close and personal with everything going on in the sky. If I could grab a broom right now and fly right through the skies, I'd be content."

To this, Clara gave a light laugh--a genuine happy laugh, one she had not given since the incident. "It would feel like you'd be a part of something bigger indeed."

"And to think that you can just reach up and touch the clouds and the first rays of light every day if you had the chance. That would be splendid, don't you think? A real brilliant way to start every day."

All Clara could do was nod, smiling encouragingly at Alanza. She'd grown very used to her talking by now, she didn't mind in the slightest that she was taking over most of the conversation.

"One of my friends, Chiara...when we became friends, she gave me a photo of a sunrise at Hogwarts," Clara recalled fondly now. "It was passed through quite a few hands, but all for the same reason: to remind ourselves that no matter how bad the night gets, the morning will always come. That no matter how bad the past could be, there's always a tomorrow to look forward to. But not everyone gets to even live to tomorrow..."

She trailed off, eyes lingering on the sunrise as tears began to brim in her eyes again, burning as they blurred her vision.

"I really wish I got the chance to know Rowan," Alanza murmured. "She sounded like a wonderful friend."

"A friend, a helper, and...someone who made a difference in everyone's lives," Clara agreed. "Rowan and I went much farther than that, though. We met in Diagon Alley before we started at Hogwarts. Only a bit later in our first year did I think to call us 'tree twins'."

"Tree twins? Why's that?"

"Rowan used to grow up on a tree farm with her family. And my last name in Chinese actually means 'forest'."

"Wow. I have no idea!"

"Mhmm. Every moment with Rowan was always so truly special since then. We shared such a close bond."

And as Clara reminisced over Rowan with Alanza, and as the other girl listened intently, the sun began to bedazzle them as it slowly inched its way higher up through the sky, the warm scarlet tones now turning into a brilliant yellow hue. The higher the sun rose, the lighter Clara's heart felt as bit by bit she shared her memories with Alanza, reliving her happy carefree past where everything wasn't so complicated.

"You know you can always count on me too, if something goes wrong?" Clara finally asked. "I mean, I know Dumbledore assigned me as your tour guide and to help you get settled down, but if there's anything you want to talk about, I'm all ears."

"Me too," Alanza reassured her. "After all, you did tell me about the Circle of Khanna. Now I know of the legacy that inspired the name. She'll be so proud of you going through life one sunrise at a time."

"I'm just happy that you're here to share this sunrise with me, Alanza," Clara finally said with a grin. "And with it, a fresh beginning to a new day and a mew friendship."

One day, R would get what's coming for them. But for now, she was ready to heal and be, with Alanza by her side.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #hogwarts #cursed vaults #harry potter #clara lin #alanza alves #black lake #quick fic #sunrise

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thats-so-sniffany · 4 years

Text

She must have listened to that message a hundred times, 'Kimber, I did not want to do this over voicemail but you haven't answered any of my calls..... it's about your father...' The dread could be heard in her stepmother's voice and the hefty sigh that had followed. 'He has passed away...'

The words spoken in the message by Priscilla had to be untrue. The General could not be gone,it was not possible. He was unstoppable man and even as a child she could rarely recall him even catching a cold let alone losing a battle to cancer. He had served in two wars and completed five combat tours. He quite possibly was the strongest man she knew growing up. He was a fighter by the very definition. While he had been a stubborn and strict soul, he was a hero. His loss hit her harder than she could have ever expected it would especially since they had not spoken or seen one another since he decided not only cut her off but disown her over two years ago due to her choice of lifestyle. Kimberlina was the one he had held such high hopes for. An indigo child, genius prodigy who probably could have very well found a cure for cancer if she had not lost her way.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." She hissed at herself palm of her hand striking her forehead with every stupid, "Why didn't you just answer his call? Why must you be so bloody stubborn?!"

The General had reached out for the first time three weeks ago but she had refused to answer his call. Not just because she had five minutes to curtain call but there was so much anger and resentment towards the man built up inside of her dating back to when she was sixteen. He had taken her mum from her but he also had not. A minor surgery gone wrong but he had been the surgeon, a renound one at that from years of medical training in the military. She blamed him but also did not blame him, a set of mixed feelings surrounding the subject. There was so much at that age she still needed her mum for. The General was never truly the same after that for he too blamed himself except it was his children who he took it out on. Not physically, at least not with Kimber. She had been a daddy's girl, his mini me about her whole life and all he wanted was for her to come home to London, back to the Camden Estate. But she had built an entire life for herself in California, fallen in love for the first time. Knox. He however was a story for another time. Gotten early acceptance into pre-med and actually learned to come out from behind her text books thanks to her brother Byron. He fought for her to stay with him and in a way he won that battle against their father but that too cost Kimberlina a loss in a different kind of way.

But still the heartache that consumed her in the news of her father was one too heavy to bare. No matter what he had taken from her, no matter the harsh words he had yelled at her that day when telling her to never come back she was full of regret. It sat in the pit of her stomach eating away at her. Wondering what he could have possibly been calling about. To inform her that he was sick? To make amends? Maybe just to simply tell her that he did in fact love her? She'd never know, not now. This regret could not be fixed. It was too late. The sorrow that filled her heart and soul by her choice not to answer his call was not one she was sure she could live with. Such thought of feeling this burden for life instilled a kind of anger in her. The kind that surfaced when one was grieving a loss.

"Why father? Why could you not just leave a fucking voicemail?" An angered swipe of her hand across the top of her makeup vanity would spill the contents on to the ground and smacking some against the wall.

She would not be making curtain call tonight. She would not be leaving her dressing room to display her wet eyes to the perverted on lookers of tonight's show. Performing was the furthest thing from her mind. Her sadness had sent her into a self destruct mode and if she went out on stage there was no telling what she would do. She wanted to destroy everything in her path, she wanted to scream profanities at the top of her lungs. Hate raging inside of her but not for the General, no. At herself. What had she done? What had she taken from herself? The chance to say goodbye to the man who gave her life and on a silver platter at that.

Mascara running from her eyes staining her cheeks with streaks of black, tears coating her hazel green eyes. Emotions were not her strong suit. She much rather feel nothing at all especially in this case. It was all too much to handle, too much to ask her to accept. She flat out did not want to. She almost in a way refused to. This just had to be some sort of cruel joke. Some test he was giving her like in the old days. She had been raised family first, she had been raised better than this. She was the disappointment he classified her as. How could she fly out to London for his funeral in a few days being what she was? She could not face him after all this not even in his death. She had let him down, brought his name Camden to shame. She just might be the most awful person to exist in this world and she felt it in every fiber of her flesh. Kimber would do about anything to feel nothing at all in this moment.

Fist pounding at the tabletop of her makeup vanity a disgruntle scream pierced her glittery glossed lips. Aggravation and grief only growing stronger within her. Memories flooding her thoughts; like the time her father surprised her with her first horse at six years old. Sparking a love riding that had stayed with her to about eighteen. He had granted her with a hobby and love in something that was a far more healthier escape when this world became overwhelming. Or how he spent endless hours during her primary school years helping her practice for the spelling bee. She had taken home the National title every single year. He always saw the great potiental she had within her and never let her waste it away. He embedded the importance of her education and the greatness she would achieve with that brain of hers.

"You will make a difference in this world Kimberlina, the kind they add into history books."

Except she threw it all away for a fix that promised to numb emotions she had never been taught how to handle. She had been a foolish girl with no guidance and no one to look out for her back then. All it took was making the wrong friend at a vulnerable time in her young life that had brought her to be sitting in this very spot she was now. She had no family left, not really. Her stepmother had been six months pregnant the last time she saw her father. A pair of twin siblings were in their way, siblings she never got the chance to know and selfishly part of her did not want to even if she had the choice. So many inner demons living inside of her she did not know had been inhabiting her until now. The path she was going down was not a safe one and surely would lead to only further disappointment.

Kimberlina could not catch a break in this life, it was as if fate refused to let her be happy. It had a personal vendetta against her. Because she had for the first time in a long time been on quite the happy streak. Life had been going rather well for her, business was booming, she got practically whatever she wanted price was never an issue, she had built a life for herself with or without her father's approval and she had been using less, still very much using but not what would be considered typical for her. While outsiders might be baffled what she could be proud of she had a lot to be thankful for. She survived everything everything meant to destroy her in this world and came out on top. But this time, this uncertainty of pain that was consuming her more by each second had the power to break her in ways she would have never imagined. She wanted to stop feeling. She needed to stop feeling.

Bottom left drawer of her vanity ripped open that it had completely popped out of place. Fingers curling around a bedazzled makeup brush bag that did not have makeup brushes in it but rather her stash. One hundred percent pure Colombian cocaine. The richest of all the cocaines. Her mouth almost watered at the anticipation. This was guaranteed to make her numb. Hastingly unzipping the makeup brush bag removing the sandwich baggy to dump the contents across the top of her vanity, she did not even bother to break into lines before grabbing that trusty straw inhaling the white powdery goodness through her left nostril. Which might have been her first mistake or possibly last as she continued at it. The effects almost instant, it never took long with the pure stuff. It was strong and pulsed through her veins with a promise of escape. Her face becoming numb as the tears in her eyes dried. Face still painted black from her running mascara. A sway from side to side taking over her petite curvy body as she rode that magical high that granted her release from her emotions. But like most things in life there was a piece to pay. Every action had a reaction, that was physics 101.

Heart racing inside her chest, pounding to be let out as her head spun in circles that began to make her not only dizzy but nauseous. For the first time in her life she might have taken her addiction too far. Palms clamy while a cold sweat began to send chills throughout her. She was overdosing. Tunnel vision began as she sat there patting her vanity for her phone but she had knocked it off onto the floor in her fit of rage. She could make out the hint of the rose gold color case a few feet from her in the ground as she looked around. Dare she stand up? No. Leaning to the side while staying planted on that cushioned stool she made an attempt to reach but it was too far and caused her along with stool to crash to floor of her dressing room. Heavy pants heaved her chest as it felt like the oxygen was being sucked from her lungs. Had she forgotten how to breathe properly? No. Kimberlina's body was shutting down and it was the most terrifying feeling to come face to face with. This was not her intentions. She just needed a little break to clear her mind. Reaching for her phone as she layed there against the cold ground though it felt like she was still falling. Down and down a rabbit hole like Alice had in her way to Wonderland.

Managing to grip her phone she swiped to make a call. To who? She had no clue unable to see clearly but to someone because the last thing she heard before blacking out was the line ringing.

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