#Poncho Pyjama

[vestepeignoirfemme]

Poncho Pyjama

Découvrez notre poncho pyjama femme à 49,90 € — l’alliance parfaite entre confort et élégance. Doux, chaud et ultra-pratique, ce poncho pyjama est idéal pour vos moments cocooning à la maison.

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[recallsdirect]

Product Recall: H&M Children's Ponchos with Ties:

[thekaftancompany1]

[adibatex-blog]

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[chenanigans-draws]

Another doodle dump!

Cherry in a fez, reading books; she ate a giant golden egg and her INT went from 13 to 20

Cherry in a Christmas sweater

We fought some Slaads and this was the size comparison, she's up to their knee at 3'3 ft (99.06cm)

Cherry bomb because she learned she is basically a magic atomic bomb

Concept for a familiar for Cherry: a goat named Banatalie; she's supposed to look like a ripe banana.

The whole right side of the page is Cherry's concept art

I wrote out all the text for the Cherry concept art. It's under the cut!

Left Column

About her eyes

Pupil is black around the rim, glows in the middle

~

About her wings

Wings grow in fully with magic

~

Clothes

Normal

Pyjamas

Normal + Poncho

~

About her surges

it surrounds her

shoots a spell off or up

shoots off a cloud or a mist

start of a surge

can be good, bad, or neutral

~

Cherry drew: the Entity

~

Surges (No order of in-game and backstory surges)

Cactus surge

Flight Surge

Invisible Surge

The Fireball (tm) surge

Teleport surge

Bubbles surge

Age backwards surge

Fireball on herself and Luren surge

Lightning surge

Necrotic healing surge

Fog cloud surge

~

About her triggers

Lots of stuff trigger this

Thousand yard stare

~

Triggers

Fire/explosions

Seeing the cult's symbol

seeing the cult

mentions of family

mentions of homes

being touched or grabbed in a specific way

being locked in a room

& more

~~

Right Column

More Clothes

Cactus Mother Front

Eyes of the Storm

~

Doodles

Chaos Bolt

"Better days are ahead..."

~

Surge's appearance

These kinds usually just affect her

These kinds usually affect others, but it can effect her too

These kinds usually affect others, but it can effect her too

It's a relief when it passes

~

Other Notes

Her eyes glow like Radiant Soul

It's very bright & colourful when it happens

There are little white stars in the rainbows

~

Dreaming about eating a giant grape

~

'Will they like me? Or remember me? Maybe they didn't want me?'

[pony-central]

Purity Nán Péngyôu and Demon Yokari

Fun Fact - Demon Yokari is different from other demons, due to having a different sclera colour, which is yellow instead of the traditional black, like 95% of Hellborn demons have

Purity Nán Péngyôu wears a poncho over his pyjama top, since he's too lazy to wear a proper set of clothing. He also dons an ear piercing and pale yellow wings. He also holds a microphone in one hand, and an orange crystal in his left hand.

Demon Yokari wears red and dark grey sneakers. He has red eyes with yellow sclera and sharp teeth. He also dons a grayish blue sweater with a middle finger icon on the centre, a black bracelet with spiky studs on it, a red cap with blue brim and grey spikes peeking out of it. He also wears a pair of dark blue jeans, as he holds a microphone made of kryptonite in his right hand. His horns pokes out of his hat instead of his hair.

[ryansbedroom]

Cousin Brook, circa 1993 (the period when Bananas in Pajamas were all the rage!)

[blossomoranges]

🌟

[theapocalypseisonlythebeginning]

"Bad People or Good People?" Chapter 3: Fever

previous chapters: Glenn || Find a Group ||

read it on Ao3

buy me a coffee

One stray beam of sunlight shone through the barred windows of cell block C, shining straight down onto Daryl’s face. He stirred in his sleep, turning away from the offending light with a huff.

He’d thrown the blankets off of him in his sleep, all bundled over his feet. Unlike his brother, Daryl didn’t sleep naked (luckily). But he also didn’t wear pyjamas. No one did that anymore though. One needed to be ready to jump up and fight for your life no matter the time of day…

That was a custom they had acquired since the apocalypse’s start. No one had broken it yet in the prison, perhaps due to the Governor’s presence in Woodbury.

He opened his eyes to instinctively glance toward Judith’s crib. He could see the outline of a blanket moving softly up and down, indicating she was still in there, sound asleep. That wouldn’t last long unless she got breakfast though, so he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Whenever Rick wasn’t up early in the morning, Daryl made sure morning feedings were done. He was usually the first one awake in the group anyway. He pretended that was the reason, not the fact that holding the little bundle gave him a strange sense of hope that humanity was not yet gone. He would never admit to such a thing out loud even if, unbeknown to him, the entire group could see his face light up with joy at holding the baby.

This was a routine that the two men had started without speaking about it. One day, Rick had been slightly late for a morning feeding, and had found Daryl had dealt with it already. The two men had nodded their heads at each other, and a silent understanding that Daryl had Rick’s back had passed between the two.

That had been it. Now Daryl did most morning feedings.

Grunting, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and took another moment to slowly wake up - which was when his gaze landed on the gun he’d given back to Clementine.

The girl was still in the same position as last night; right there on the perch, wrapped up in multiple layers of blankets. The only thing that had changed was that she’d wrapped her fingers around the end of the poncho he’d thrown over her shivering form, curling it against her protectively.

Daryl watched for a while, unsure what strange, warm emotion had just spread through his chest seeing this.

He shook it off with a scowl and stood with another grunt, turning to Judith to pick her up when he paused in his actions, ears catching a sound he didn’t like.

Turning back to Clementine, he crouched in front of her. Her breathing was raspy, as if she was struggling to breathe. Now, he didn’t know the girl… but she looked much paler than she did the previous day, and she was coated in a thick layer of sweat (not unlike him) yet still shivered (which was not normal, he deduced).

“Clem?”

He poked her, unsure how to progress.

Soon, though, worry kicked in and he shook her arm. “Clem?”

She didn’t stir even once.

…

Glenn frowned at the goo Beth poured into his bowl. The girl offered him a sympathetic look: “It’s oatmeal, but not the way we’re used to.”

At her words, Glenn offered a smile. “Better than nothing. Believe me, I’m not complaining.” Glenn kind of was, but he still made his way to the table with the bowl in his hand, spoon at the ready to eat it.

Prison rations weren’t the fanciest of stuff, but after a winter living on whatever scraps they could get, even stooping so low as to eat canned cat food once, this was a 5 star meal.

It just looked a bit… ‘gloopy’. A new term for a new type of nasty food. 

When Glenn sat down with Hershel and Maggie, the two abruptly stopped talking and turned their attention to their own gloopy oatmeals. Glenn blinked in surprise. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Maggie was quick to say, offering a reassuring smile.

Glenn didn’t buy that for a second. Besides, he’d been present the other day when they, the two kindest people Glenn knew, argued with Daryl over taking Clementine in. “Is this about the kid?”

Neither said a word, but Hershel did offer him an apologetic look before saying, in a sigh: “It’s complicated, Glenn.”

“Do you two know her or something?” he asked, aware that they, in the beginning of the apocalypse, had opened their farm up for those in need of a night’s sleep or some other help… Which they had stopped doing abruptly, and for a grievous reason.

Hershel opted to simply look away from the young man, which in all honesty was enough of a response. When he tried to look at Maggie for answers, the woman also just avoided his gaze.

With a sigh, Glenn returned his attention to the gloopy meal.

Around him, almost everyone else was enjoying their breakfast in peace. Mornings were never the most talkative of times; this was one of the few things that hadn’t changed with the coming of the apocalypse. The only bit of normality left. The rest felt far from normal to everyone as they ate their food within the confines of grey, thick walls meant to hold criminals away from society to keep people safe.

It was an ironic kick to the face that the one place no one wanted to go before, a place housing bad people, was the one place offering them sanctum now. In the apocalypse, the bad people were outside of the prison… Glenn hoped. 

Rick joined the group, offering good mornings as he passed people by. In return, he earned smiles and coos. It was not because he was the leader nor because the group had a strange relationship with him, but because on his hip was Judith.

Normally these reactions would make Rick smile back, but his urgent steps straight toward Hershel spoke differently.

“Daryl needs you. Now.”

…

Hershel had intended to go there alone, but the rest of the group had followed him too. Most stayed down the stairs, opting to watch from down below. Others straight up followed Hershel to hover over him - this was Rick, Carol and Glenn, with Maggie not far away.

Michonne, of course, stayed the furthest away. Even further away than Merle, who was watching from his spot leaned against his cell’s door frame. With his arms crossed, he observed the group as if he was still making up his mind about staying with them; as if their reaction to the newcomer’s illness would make up his mind about… something. Or someone who was urgently prying for information from Hershel.

“What’s wrong with ‘er?” Daryl asked. Crouched beside Clementine’s shivering presence, he looked much like a sweating mother hen worried for the safety of his baby.

“I’d wager exhaustion,” Hershel offered with a gentle tone to his voice, attempting to keep the tension in the archer’s body from exploding.

“Wager less,” Daryl spat. “What’s wrong with ‘er?”

Offering Daryl a stern look, Hershel fixed him with his eyes and spoke in a calm voice: “She’s been out there on her own for God knows how long, with no food, no water, and probably little sleep. You found her running, who knows how long she’d been running already. She’s running a fever because her body could suddenly relax. She might have picked something up on the road too, who knows.” Hershel glanced toward Rick. “Because we don’t actually know what she’s been through.”

“She ain’t bit,” Daryl intervened.

“Still,” Hershel replied with a sigh.

Rick slowly nodded his head, avoiding Hershel’s gaze. There was a subtext to those words. A subtext which Rick was avoiding.

Daryl, on the other hand, chewed his thumb before uttering: “And what do I do?”

Although he shouldn’t have been, Hershel still offered Daryl a surprised look. The archer didn’t have to do anything, nor did the archer ever offer so many words to anyone in the group, even when he was worried for them in his own way. “What you should do is let her sleep.” Hershel observed the newcomer again. “Have some water ready for when she wakes up, and call me if the fever gets worse. We have some medication but I would prefer to save those for worse scenarios.”

“’Kay.” Daryl sat down properly next to Clementine. The gun he had offered her as a gift of trust was still lying right there next to her, and he wasn’t going to move it either. “I’ll stay.”

“Daryl-“ Rick began, wanting to do nothing other than reassure him that Clementine would be alright if he left for a while to eat, or helped keep watch for the Governor.

But Daryl’s intentions not to move were made clear when he glared, and Rick gave up.

“I’ll stay too,” Glenn said, sitting down on the other end of Clementine. Daryl nodded his head, and Glenn dared to offer a faint smile to the archer whom no one had quite managed to get close to save for Carol… and Clementine, somehow.

As the others left to return their breakfast, Glenn caught sight of Maggie lingering hesitantly. It looked as if she wanted to say something, but opted not to and instead left.

“Why was she sleeping out here?” Glenn asked.

Daryl only shrugged, suddenly no longer talkative. Glenn sighed but refrained from pushing further.

…

Rick assumed that Carl would be relatively intrigued by the presence of another child. Of course, Clementine was younger than Carl by 4 years, but it was still better than the other old farts around, Rick figured. And it was someone who could talk to him, unlike Judith.

Yet, Carl stayed as far away from Clementine as Michonne did to the entire group. On top of that, he’d caught Carl glare and sigh on multiple occasions when the subject of Clementine was brought up.

Rick was pacing soothingly with Judith in his arms, trying to calm the fussy baby who was clearly tired enough for a nap, but was fighting her own heavy eyelids. Catching sight of Carl, Rick tried to gain his attention. The boy was dressed in his sheriff’s hat, gun ready. Clearly, Carl wanted to take over watch from Beth and Maggie.

“Hey,” Rick asked, shifting Judith in his arms. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” To make a point, Rick sat down on a nearby wooden bench.

With a single nod of his head, Carl walked over. Rick’s chosen spot for feeding and burping Judith was a corner in the mess hall. It was slightly hidden behind a large pillar, and dark enough to make Judith feel sleepy. No people walked past either, not that his group was large enough to have a big footfall within the one cellblock they had cleared.

“What’s up?” Carl asked, sitting down next to Rick.

The two had… not been on the greatest of terms since Lori’s death. Rick had not helped their rough relationship by disappearing into his own hallucinations; hallucinations which were not over… But the lack of disappearing and the threat of the Governor seemed to have put a halt on their roughest patches for the moment, offering enough neutrality for Rick to converse with his son again… from time to time, at least. 

“How are you holding up?”

“Good. I should be asking you that. You were on the run that went south.”

Rick offered a sway of his head to indicate a shrug, trying to minimize his movements to keep Judith calm. “We’d been through worse.”

“Good.” Carl looked away, clearly eager to leave.

“I wanted to talk to you about Clementine.”

“What about her?” Carl asked. With a furrowed brow, he turned his attention back to his father.

“About her joining us.”

“She’s not, is she?”

Rick observed his son. His police training had given him enough insight into people’s reactions and intentions that he knew from the slight panic in his son’s eyes, that Clementine was an unwanted presence. “I don’t know yet.”

“She shouldn’t.”

“Why?” Rick probed.

“People die.”

Amy.

Sophia.

Lori.

“She would be different.”

Carl shook his head, “You don’t know that. And you can’t promise her safety either. Besides, she’s sick, probably going to use our meds, and then eat our food-“

“Carl…”

“You didn’t want Tyreese and the others here!” Carl stood, angry. “What difference is this? If I let people in, you get pissed. If I don’t, it’s wrong.”

“This is one little girl.”

In all honesty, Rick’s excuse was lame. There was no difference. The difference was just that Lori had not appeared to him now, and that he was calmer… able to keep his mind from turning foggy.

It was lame. Wrong. And hurtful of him to not tell his own son the truth of his wrongdoings. He should be apologising about the previous people who had wanted to join them, yet… he wasn’t.

He was too proud. Or too afraid what his son would think of him…

“What,” Carl said angrily, speaking slowly, “is the difference?”

When Rick had no answer for him once more,  Carl turned away and left with heavy steps.

From their hurtful interaction, Rick had deduced a few things: his son was angry with him for leaving still, his son was angry about his actions toward the people Carl clearly had wanted to help, and Carl was terrified that Clementine would become the new Sophia… and die.

Rick had no idea how to help Carl… no parenting handbooks ever incorporated dealing with so much grief.

Judith moved in his arms, face scrunched up in an effort to start crying: “Hush…” but her father’s words stopped her. Big, dark eyes looked up at Rick suddenly. He was sure Judith couldn’t quite see him yet, but the outline she saw, she apparently recognised. “Let’s get you to bed.”

At least one of his children still loved him.

…

You’ve gone soft on me, brother.” Merle’s words came from his dark cell like a taunting poltergeist’s mockery. He appeared out of the darkness in a quick movement, arms holding onto the cell’s doorframe whilst he half hung out of his cell, staring straight at Daryl, ignoring Glenn’s presence.

Daryl scoffed and ignored his brother, to the best of his ability. Glenn offered a glare in Daryl’s defense. The two were still sitting watch around Clementine, water ready for if she woke up.

Next to Daryl, Clementine still slept. She whimpered in her sleep from time to time, still sweating profusely, but at least she was asleep and hopefully unaware of her suffering.

A welcomed break… That’s what Daryl’s diagnosis was after Hershel’s words. In this world, such a thing was rare to come by, and her little body had shut down to finally rest.

They had opted not to offer Clementine a pillow or move her. It might break her trust, it might be too invasive and scare her. So they stayed right there, hoping she wasn’t too uncomfortable. The only thing they had done was move her hat which had fallen off to put it next to her gun, so she could easily find it.

“Whatcha gonna do? Sit there until the girl wakes up?” When Daryl wasn’t responding, Merle took on a different tactic. “Or…” He shifted out of his cell completely, strutting up to Daryl and Glenn. “Or are yeh sitting guard? In case she turns?” He touched the side of his boot against Clementine’s gun still lying in front of her.

Daryl turned icy blue eyes up to Merle. “Shut up, Merle.”

“Very soft,” Merle mocked, apparently satisfied getting on his brother’s nerves as he did nothing else but stroll past and leave down the stairs.

With a shake of his head, Daryl looked to Clementine.

“Don’t listen to him,” Glenn said quietly, having watched the interaction with curious eyes.

Daryl opened his mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it. Changing tactics, Daryl shifted where he sat and let out a scoff, eyes down at Clementine. “Don’t listen to Merle. That’s how you handle Merle.”

He swore he saw Clementine smile slightly in her sleep at those words… but that was preposterous; Clementine didn’t even know Merle yet and she was knocked out.

What he did see for sure was Glenn smiling and nodding in agreement.

“She’ll get better. She’s strong.”

“How long ‘d you known ‘er?”

“Um… Like, one day?”

Daryl stared at him in surprise. “One day?”

“Yeah…” Glenn frowned. “Guess I don’t know her as much as I think I do but… I do know Lee saved my life. And Lee and Clem were already inseparable when I met them. I owe him this… whatever happened to him.”

“He a good man?”

“Yeah,” Glenn said confidently with a nod of his head. “I don’t doubt that.” A frown appeared on his face after that. “I wonder what happened to them… She looked… rough.”

No one continued the conversation after that, a heavy blanket of reality falling over them.

Out there… anything bad you could imagine could happen nowadays. And she was too young for them to want anything like that to have happened to her.

Suddenly, Clementine shifted a bit, eyes opening. They searched for something and when she found it, her gaze had landed on Daryl.

“Lee…?”

[ancient-cats-unite]

So.. some new eggs got into the roster.

You know what that means!

Ancient eggs in clothing part 3!!

Mushroom gets his own canvas because I love him so much. He would totally be into cottagecore, flowy clothing with forest motifs. I gave him a little light poncho so he can dance around comfortably in it! I also think he would like pyjama material. Look at him go!

Supercar Cat looks a bit fancy, not as much as Exorcist though. His mom loved to spoil him with cute kiddy clothing. He gets a tiny bowtie with barrier and Aku shield pieces. Of course his sweater needs to have a duck!

Raquet Cat has a polo shirt with a skirt and kneesocks. Quite prestigious, perfect for a tennis match! She ties her hair in a braid to keep it out of her face.

[mcklunkers]

Welcome to day 8 of non-consecutive random Star Wars shitposty headcanons!

Today’s trash post is as follows:

-Fox is called Fox because stress made his hair start to grey and he’s a silver fox.

-Shaak Ti definitely did not linger around the gym while Alpha-17 was working out, absolutely not that would be completely unprofessional no matter how fine that man is.

-Sabine Wren has an untraceable art blog that she regularly posts on. She always has super in depth art conversations with one of her followers, sometimes talking to them for hours about a recent piece and it’s inspirations. She often wonders how the mysterious Mitth’raw’nuruodo is doing when she works on a new piece.

-Thrawn unironically likes ponchos. He started wearing them to mock Krennics stupid cape, but found he loved them. Eli hates ponchos, but can’t fault them on his boss.

-Luke’s poncho is Qui-Gons, he left it at Shmi’s after taking Ani so she’d remember her son was with safe people. Luke found it in a box and it called to him so he wore it.

-Count Dooku wears socks in bed as well as those old man slipper-shoe hybrids.

-The clones only get to wear pyjamas on shore leave and they abuse that privilege by wearing pyjamas everywhere. Gym? Pyjamas. Mess hall? Pyjamas. Shop? Pyjamas. They’re totally colour coded to their armor aswell.

-Older clones stay in the barracks with shinies after their first missions so they can talk about it to someone who’ll listen. Sometimes it’s just overly excited retelling of their batch’s heroics, but sometimes they lose someone and they need to talk it out, or even just get a hug. And that’s what the older clones do.

-Ahsoka and Obi-Wan once found a bunch of Padme’s clothes in the back of Anakin’s closet while he was in a Bacta tank. They wanted to make sure he had comfy clothes when he came out. One of Ahsoka’s biggest regrets is that they didn’t confront him about them. They thought he’d come to them, and maybe if they had just started the conversation none of it would’ve happened.

-ARC-Troopers take sparring too seriously and are only allowed to spar with eachother or captains/commanders that have had the same training. This leads to Jesse and Rex working out together a lot. Fives and Echo used to ask Bly and Wolffe so they’d have a challenge. It did not end well.

-The medics are the best drinkers. Whether clone or Jedi, the medics drink an ungodly amount more than the best of the regular soldiers. The only non medics that come close are Obi-Wan (because he’s got a high tolerance) and Wolffe (he spent a lot of time with Kix learning) and even then only just.

-Cal Kestis used to copy Obi-Wan when he was younger because he was the only other ginger Jedi he knew. Obi-Wan noticed that and when on missions with Jaro Tapal would always sit near and talk with little Cal because he knew he’d grow up to be a great Jedi.

-Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume had at least one class together and hit it off, becoming the little terrors of their padawan year.

-Zebs eyes are like a cat and get super big when he’s excited or happy. The ghost crew learnt this when Kallus arrived and cooked food from Lira San.

Enjoy lads 😁

[reginageourge]

tagged by: @beautifulsappho 💗

nickname: sarora, sasa

sign: pisces ☀️ libra 🌕 leo 🌅

height: 157cm

last thing I googled: shadow work journal prompts

song in my head: le cygne - camille saint-saëns

number of followers: 170

amount of sleep: 4-5 hours usually. that doesn't sound like much, but when I was in school I felt like I wasted time by sleeping so I forced myself to wake as early as possible and go to bed as late as possible and now I just naturally wake up after only sleeping for a few hours

lucky number: 7

dream job: head of the dietetics department 😎

what are you wearing: grey pyjamas and a white, pink, and blue fluffy hoodie/poncho thing

favourite media: idk! music or film, I guess?

favourite song: nocturne by secret garden

favourite instrument: violin

aesthetic: don't really have a specific aesthetic, I just dress the way I dress and decorate my home the way I decorate my home. it doesn't fit into a distinct category like cottagecore or goth or something

favourite author: whichever one I'm currently reading, I suppose. which right now is leo tolstoy

favourite animal noise: any noise a cat makes

random: I have a collection of signature barbie dolls! i love them so much even though they're just pretty, expensive pieces of plastic. and when I go to town this week I'm gonna try and see if any of the toy stores are carrying this year's ballet wishes barbie.

tagging: @baugfingur @mshyde @espresso-nightingale399 @comphet-critical @tenko-irl @thestreetsarealive

[hectorqueen-blog]

Unique Fine Knitted Star Poncho

Our new ranges of unique fine knitted star poncho make a very stylish alternative to coats, can be worn anytime, anywhere without compromising on style!  Featuring a dark blue star logo with matching blue trim, our ponchos are available in gorgeous classic blue and burnt orange.

[blondanimetwinksupremacy]

THE UNSYMMETRICAL BLANKET OUTFIT:  3/10 At best, the poncho blanket thing’s colors don’t complement eachother, the hair isnt working out with the outfit. Im not living for the little undergrament show. My biggest beef with this outfit  HOWEVER is the BOW TIE like homeboy looks like hes about to go.... WHERE DO PEOPLE WITH BOWTIES EVEN GO? NOWHERE.. OH AND THE BALLET SHOES ARE JUST VERY SUBURBAN MUM IN 2014. “MAMAPIKA” TYPE OF BEAT 🤮🤮

 THE BELL SKIRT INFINITY THING : 7 /10 -OK definitly some improvement coming through..KING FINELLY GOT RID OF THAT UGLY ASS SIDEPART!! The colors work much better, the ballet shoes are still here thought.... guess hes commited to them like 7 year old me.Over all dont mind the bell silhouette, the material kinda looks heavy so a bit impractical.. but ok.UMM SOME CHAINS COMING THROUGH AND HES CLEARLY GETTING OUT OF THAT AWKWARD PHASE  SO GO KING! GO!

mhm COMFY PJ FIT FOR FIGHTING UVOGIN😋😋- 5/10- IDK something about that sillhouette ... My man must have seen Hisoka and Illumi and said “I wanna Be part of that too”... UMM SNATCHED WAIST IG. The fact that those are literal undergarments.. man was fighting and executing the revange of his life in a literal pyjama! STAN HIM FOR THAT.. but i cant justify it but theres something about this outfit like it doesnt sit well...

OMG FINE SUIT OUTFIT AAAAAA- 1000000000/10 : AUGGGGGGAAAA UHDHHFUIFEHUH SOOOOOO FINE. THE WAY IT JUST  DID HIM SO GOOD 😍😍😍😍😍😍 please man may be mantally unstable and loosing his sense of purpose in life but damnnnn did the suit do him gooooooodddd. The way it just sits so well on him deueygygefwyegy3848

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker Next Door Neighbour AU

----

Tonys new neighbour is kinda weird.

Like, he’s not trying to be callous or anything. But he’s just, y’know. Strange.

They first met four months ago. 

The apartment opposite Tony’s had been vacant for only two weeks ever since old Mrs. Perry moved to Florida to retire with her grandkids. That was until one rainy Tuesday, when Tony sighted his new neighbour trudging down the hallway, hauling box after box through the elevator, whistling to himself as he relocated all of his belongings to 7C. 

Tony, on his way out, had first seen the guy trying to precariously balance a large box in his arms whilst trying to unlock his apartment door at the same time. Predictably, he’d dropped his keys and Tony had swooped in and picked them up for him.

“Oh my gosh, thank you” the guy had said earnestly, shaking Tony’s hand after opening his door. “Yikes, I’m such a mess. Mercury in retrograde, am I right?”

Tony had nodded, having no idea what he was talking about, and promptly left.

So, the new guy - Peter, he had later learned was his name - was cute. Fluffy curls, gorgeous skin, irresistible big brown eyes. 

But he was, y’know, a little bizarre.

Tony’s not even exaggerating. 

Every time he goes into the hallway he’s met with a sneeze-inducing wave of patchouli and incense, holding his breath as he passes, wondering if he is living next door to a Shinto shrine. Tony swears at night that he hears humming. Like, of the om mani padme hum kind of variety. He hears the distant clang of singing bowls and tuning forks at midnight when he’s turning in to go to bed. 

He thought about politely telling Peter to keep it down but every time he knocked on the door of 7C Peter just beamed at him in welcome and asked him about his day with genuine interest.

Tony bought ear plugs instead.

Tony swears that Peter can’t be any older than he is, early twenties at the youngest, but he says words like radical, dude and oopsy-daisy, groovy. One time he stubbed his toe around Tony and said fiddlesticks. He seems to be in and out at the weirdest times, waving burning sage at the letterboxes at three AM as if it were the normal thing to do.

“What do you even do,” Tony had asked one morning in the elevator. Peter was carrying a crate full of succulents, biceps bulging with the strain.

Peter looks down at his crate of plants and then back up to Tony as if it were obvious. The duh goes unsaid but Tony hears it.

“I’m a yoga teacher and a reiki practitioner,” he says, handing Tony a succulent from the crate.  

Tony blinks down at the small potted plant. 

“Um,” he says. 

“It’s an echeveria elegans,” Peter explains, smiling.

“Do you... want me to hold this for you?”

“No, silly,” Peter had laughed. “It’s yours. Keep it in the sunlight and try not to over-do it with the water.” 

Tony leaves the elevator more confused than before, clutching the succulent all the way to his 9:00AM class.

-------

Tony can handle weirdness. Tony can handle eccentricity. He can even handle the new plant he absolutely does not have time to care for and absolutely did not call Brenda.

But what Tony can’t handle is the ear-piercingly loud Gregorian chanting that comes from next door one night whilst he’s studying. Up for two days already, his concentration is shot by the guttural singing, the lead of his pencil snapping against his notebook in frustration. It’s nearly midnight for fucks sake.

Tony had stormed over, enraged and determined, and rapped his knuckles on the door for a good two minutes before it had swung open, a smiling Peter giving him a warm welcome on the other side.

“Do you mind?” Tony had demanded. “I’m trying to study for my thesis.”

Peter looked taken aback, contriteness making his big brown eyes dewy and soft. 

“Oh my gosh,” he’d said, extending a hand out, “I’m so sorry about that. Hang on, wait here. Please wait.”

So Tony had waited, expecting Peter to rush to lower the volume. Instead, he’d returned with a fist-sized, green and purple rock-crystal thing, presenting it to Tony with a grin. 

Peter had placed it in Tony’s palm, using both hands to curl Tony’s fingers over the heavy, polished stone.

“There,” Peter says proudly. “It’s fluorite.”

“It’s what,” Tony blinks.

“For clarity and concentration,” Peter explains, beaming a mile wide. “Keep it, okay? Good luck on your thesis.”

He’d closed the door, leaving Tony with a rock in his hand and the chanting continued.

Tony bought noise-cancelling headphones to put over his ear-plugs.

He definitely didn’t place the fluorite on his windowsill by his bed or smile at it sometimes or run his fingers over its smooth edges.

Ever since it’s been a never ending stream of peculiar behaviour, weird conversations about moon phases, etheric bodies and third eyes while waiting for their laundry to dry in the basement, the effect of the upcoming perigee syzygy on the neighbourhood and guessing Tony’s star sign.

“Cancer, right?”

“What?”

“Your zodiac sign,” Peter answers, rubbing at his eyebrow, pushing the hairs askew. His nails are painted black. 

“Gemini,” Tony answers warily, piling his underwear and bedsheets into his basket.

“Damn, I was close,” Peter smiles, pouring his own mixture of organic fabric softener into the washer. “I’ll figure you out yet.”

Tony wants to reach over and smooth down the raised hairs on his eyebrow. 

He’s a perfectionist, that’s all.

But in any case Tony just continues to go about his life, continues to study, grade his papers. He visits his optometrist and gets a new prescription and wonders how he is going to pay his phone bill when he spends more on heating over the winter than he intended.

It's all fine, whale music and white sage aside.

Not that he’d ever admit it, but it’s kinda nice.

-----

One day Tony rouses from his slumber to hear loud voices outside, the bellow of protesters on the main arterial street below. Tony thinks nothing of it and pops in his ear plugs, keen to get another hour of sleep before he has to be at his class. Being a TA is the worst.

Later, Tony watches the local news, watching in horrified fascination as his neighbour is one of the many arrested for protesting at a rally of a visiting Republican senator. 

“What’s with the pyjamas?” Tony had queried at the letterboxes the following day, roaming his eyes over the soft-looking Hello Kitty pants that Peter had been arrested and released in - and was still wearing. 

The pictures of his arrest had been on twitter for gods sake. He was trending as #hellokittyguy. It was all his students were talking about.

“Oh, I’d slept in,” was all Peter said. 

“You slept in. To a protest.” 

“Irresponsible, I know. I’m already beating myself up, don’t worry.”

At this stage, Tony can’t even find himself to be bothered by it. He’s so used to the sound of the koto, the wind flute and kalimba from next door that it’s damn near unsettling to go without it. Tony’s used to the weird attire, from the ponchos and the sandals and the fisherman pants in mid-winter, the beaded bracelets and rose quartz pendants. He’s even used to finding Peter knocking on his door, asking for salt or milk or handing him personalised organza bags filled with small crystals and incense cones and charms.

And if he looks forward to their talks at the door? It’s only Tony’s business.

One night Peter sets off the fire alarm from burning rope incense. He says he got it when he went to Nepal, apologising profusely to the grouchy occupants who send him withering stares.

Tony doesn’t even ask, too busy staring at Peters lithe, muscled frame that had been hiding under the baggy clothes. The man is clad only in his underwear, didn’t think to grab anything when he’d fled to the emergency meeting point. 

It’s three in the morning. Tony’s not even mad.

"Did you know your aura is gold and red,” Peter had asked that night, wandering over to him and accepting an offered a cigarette.

“No,” Tony yawned, taking a drag and wishing he was back in his own bed, fire truck lights flashing, dizzying and disorienting.

“S’nice. Pretty.”

Peter wraps his arms around himself and shivers, the cool night air sending goosebumps over his pale skin.

Tony quickly shrugs his own jacket off his shoulders and offers it to Peter so he doesn’t have to stare at the obscene way his nipples harden.

“Thanks, Tony. You’re a sweetheart.”

“I’m not - it’s not a big deal,” Tony grumbles. “You looked like you needed it, so.”

Peter smothers his smile in the collar of Tony’s jacket. Tony still sees it. 

His stomach squirms like the first time he held someones hand.

“Do you want to have dinner sometime?” Peter asks, as they pile back upstairs an hour later after the building has been cleared.

“Yeah, okay,” Tony agrees, eyeing the dimples of Peters lower back and the crevice of his muscles where his spine rests. He’s got an ass that’s so perfect it deserves to be worshipped but Tony isn’t looking at it. He’s not.

“Tomorrow work for you?”

Tony nods, watching Peter disappear back into his apartment with an awkward wave and a smile. He’s still wearing Tony’s jacket. 

If Tony goes back inside his apartment and jerks off to the image of Peter wearing just his jacket and nothing else, well then, no one else needs to know.

----

The following evening Tony knocks on Peters door, dressed in jeans and a nice shirt. He adjusts his glasses where they perch on his nose as he waits, sliding them up as Peter opens the door, beckoning him inside. 

The interior looks very different to Tony’s apartment, is the first thing he notices. 

Plants hang from the ceiling, there is a large afghan rug in the living room, all the furniture is mismatched, a sofa and an armchair with different patterns and colours, all the bookshelves are of different wood and sizes. 

There are cushions everywhere, crystals and rocks on almost every surface, incense burning by the open window, stacks and stacks of books on the divine and lunar charts on the walls. Michelle Branch is playing unironically from the speakers on Peters bookshelves.

“I didn’t know what to bring, so,” Tony mumbles, tearing his eyes away from a copy of the Karma Sutra and holding up store bought cake and a bottle of red wine.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Peter gushes, kissing Tony’s cheek and taking the items from him and herding him onto the sofa. “Sit, sit. I’ll be right back.”

Tony sits, a little dazed. The spot on his cheek where Peters lips touched his skin burns. 

There’s an old TV in the corner and a CD player straight out of the nineties nestled in the corner between book stacks. 

There’s two magazines on the coffee table: National Geographic and Cosmopolitan. God, Peter is so, so... 

Charming, is the word that comes unbidden to Tony’s mind when Peter bounds back into the living room, two glasses of wine clutched in his hands, the charms on his beaded bracelets clinking together. He’s barefoot, Tony notices. His toenails are painted black, too.

“So, I have a confession to make,” Peter begins, passing Tony a glass and sitting beside him on the sofa.

“Oh, god,” Tony winces. “You’re not an anti-vaxxer, are you?” 

He didn’t even think about that. 

“What,” Peter blinks. “No.”

“Okay, good. Sorry. Continue.”

“I’m, uh, kinda broke. I know I invited you to dinner but all I have is cup ramen and Corona.”

“Oh,” Tony says, watching at how Peter smiles sheepishly,  “That’s okay. I like cup ramen. I mean, I’m a student, so.”

“Is that okay?” Peter asks, cringing as he casts a look over to his tiny kitchenette. “Sorry, I was so shocked that you even agreed to come that I couldn’t even think.”

“Mercury in retrograde?” Tony guesses.

“No,” Peter laughs, looking at his hands bashfully. “You’re just really cool and handsome and sophisticated and I don’t know. It wasn’t in my tarot, so.”

It wasn’t in his tarot, Tony repeats in his mind, wondering when exactly he hit his head and found all of this attractive. He’s a man of science, alright?

“You been crushin’ on me, huh?” Tony asks, shifting closer until their thighs and shoulders touch.

“Yeah. You make me kinda nervous.”

“Well your tarot can’t tell you that I think you’re beautiful,” Tony reasons, sipping his wine. “Or delightful. Or that I think the way you swing your legs when you’re waiting for your drying is adorable.”

The flush that comes over Peters cheeks makes Tony’s heart beat faster.

“You really think that?”

“Against my better judgement,” Tony admits. 

“What was it that did you in?” Peter asks, leaning in, drawing his knees up and looking like a pleased cat. “Was it the green fluorite? The rutilated quartz?”

Tony leans in to bridge the gap, pressing his lips against Peter’s in a sweet kiss. He tastes like coffee and wine and everything smells like lemongrass and palo santo.

“Just your cute, quirky self,” Tony says against his lips. “And maybe the blue calcite.”

Peter laughs against his mouth. “I knew it.”

---

Later, when Tony is curled up against Peter’s bare chest, still catching his breath, Peter asks him on a second date.

“There’s a climate change rally at the State Library this weekend, if you’re interested. We could have matching signs and drink Corona after.”

“Baby,” Tony yawns, eyes heavy, “you do that thing with your tongue again and I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“Sweet,” Peter says, pressing a kiss into Tony’s hair.

Yeah, Tony thinks as he drifts off, it is.

[rightpath]

aesthetic.

What are your muse’s aesthetics? BOLD any which apply to your muse! Remember to REPOST! Feel free to add to the list!

[ COLOURS ]  ~  burgundy. RED. crimson. scarlet. maroon. mahogany. copper. AMBER. CHOCOLATE. brown. tawny. tan. bronze. BRASS. orange. gold. saffron. yellow. chartreuse. spring green. lime. mint. green. olive. forest. turquoise. teal. CERULEAN. blue. navy. cobalt. periwinkle. indigo. pewter. plum. purple. magenta. fuchsia. lilac. lavender. pink. coral. peach. IVORY. cream. white. SILVER. grey. SMOKE. charcoal. ebony. black. pastels. vibrant. matte. METALLIC. muted. dark. light.

[ BODY ] ~ mutations. claws. fangs. wings. tails. FEATHERS. webs. spikes. scales. fur. stripes. spots. freckles. acne. bruises. scars. scratches. gashes. lashes. wounds. amputations. burns. brands. teeth. gums. tongues. lips. beards. mustaches. CHEEKS. noses. ears. eyes. EYELASHES. eyebrows. HAIR. heads. neck. shoulders. collar bones. arms. elbows. wrists. HANDS. fingers. breast. back. ribs. abs. belly. hips. curves. butts. legs. thighs. knees. shins. ankles. feet. toes. nails. SWEAT. spit. TEARS. BLOOD. heart. stomach. lungs. liver. veins. guts. bones. SPINE. muscle. skin. FELINE. canine. MASCULINE. FEMININE.

[ WEAPONS ]  ~  bites. fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. bow. crossbow. hammer. SHIELD. poison. GUNS. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. TASERS. MACHINE GUNS. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. BOMBS. MISSILES. boomerangs. lethal pets. LASERS.

[ MATERIALS ]  ~ METAL. gold. silver. platinum. pewter. TITANIUM. IRON. STEEL. copper. BRONZE. brass. tin. bismuth. diamonds. pearls. rubies. garnets. sapphires. emeralds. jade. peridots. alexandrite. opal. topaz. jasper. quartz. rose quartz. smoky quartz. amethyst. citrine. fluorite. amber. malachite. turquoise. lapis lazuli. sodalite. pyrite. labradorite. moonstone. petrified wood. wood. paper. parchment. hemp. canvas. burlap. oils skin. muslin. rayon. faux. wool. fur. lace. leather. skins. suede. corduroy. silk. satin. chiffon. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. rocks. flint. asphalt. brick. granite. marble. dust. rust. glitter. sand. dirt. mud. SMOKE. ash. carbonate. rubber. SYNTHETICS. nylon. polyester. plastic. GLASS. porcelain. bone. shells. coral.

[ NATURE ]  ~ grass. leaves. trees. bark. flowers. roses. daisies. forget me nots. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. roots. OCEAN. pond. river. stream. waterfall. creek. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. tropical. jungle. marsh. moors. swamp. plains. hills. highlands. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. CLOUDS. mountains. fire. lava. ice. frost. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. shadow. tornado. hurricane. water spout. thunder. hail. twisters. humidity. dryness.

[ ANIMALS ] ~ birds. penguins. eagles. owls. falcons. vultures. hawks. swans. parrots. parakeets. doves. pigeons. ducks. robins. cardinals. blue jays. bluebirds. blackbirds. crows. ravens. magpies. mockingbirds. flamingos. ostriches. seagulls. STORKS. albatross. peacocks. condors. finches. pelicans. chickens. geese. quail. bats. sheep. cows. buffalo. deer. hedgehogs. elephants. horses. giraffes. CATS. lions. tigers. pumas. cheetahs. jaguars. foxes. dogs. wolves. coyotes. bunnies. mice. rats. monkeys. apes. bears. pandas. polar bears. snakes. iguanas. chameleons. alligators. crocodiles. turtles. lizards. frogs. toads. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. stingrays. octopus. lobsters. crabs. bugs. spiders. ants. moths. butterflies. flies. maggots. roaches. ladybugs. beetles. cicadas. dragonflies. fleas. termites. leeches. worms. snails. mosquitoes. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. dinosaurs.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ]  ~  pepper. salt. SUGAR. honey. SYRUP. caramel. CANDY. bubblegum. mints. candy canes. gumdrops. lollipops. CHOCOLATE. vanilla. cinnamon. ICE CREAM. CAKE. COOKIES. BROWNIES. biscuits. pie. tarts. lemonade. SODA. champagne. wine. brandy. rum. whiskey. vodka. tequila. sake. beer. soju. gin. crema de cacao. COCOA. latte. coffee. TEA. spices. herbs. fruit. apples. oranges. lemons. cherries. STRAWBERRIES. blueberries. raspberries. cranberries. watermelons. cantaloupes. bananas. coconuts. grapes. kiwi. pomegranates. tomatoes. vegetables. potatoes. cucumbers. carrots. turnips. onions. leeks. celery. broccoli. cabbages. lettuces. roots. nuts. white meat. red meat. raw meat. veal. pork. chicken. beef. venison. fish. lobster. oysters. pizza. ambrosia. pasta. sandwiches. soup.

[ HOBBIES ]  ~  music. piano. flute. woodwinds. whistles. drums. guitar. cello. synthesizer. violin. lute. harp. fiddle. harmonica. trumpet. brass. singing. composing. folk. classical. bluegrass. blues. jazz. big band. pop. country. rock. punk. metal. electronica. hip hop. reggae. ska. rap. vinyl records. cassettes. cds. soundcloud. itunes. spotify. art. sculpting. pottery. painting. watercolour. drawing. pastels. charcoal. sketching. graffiti. printing. inking. collecting. FIGHTING. martial arts. self-defence. boxing. fencing. sumo. wrestling. jousting. paintball. LAZER TAG. duelling. hunting. fishing. climbing. weight lifting. TRAINING. sports. football. football (usa). rugby. baseball. cricket. lacrosse. volleyball. basketball. tennis. badminton. skating. cycling. sailing. rowing. hiking. running. gymnastics. dancing. ice skating. hockey. reading. writing. cooking. sewing. acting. photography. VIDEO GAMES. horseback riding. gardening. smithing. shopping. traveling. MOVIES. theatre. libraries. books. magazines. playing cards. poker chips. CHESS. dice. science.

[ STYLE ]  ~ nudism. perfume. cologne. piercings. tattoos. henna. body paint. war paint. make up. lipstick. mascara. eyeliner. eye shadow. powder. beauty marks. blush. nail polish. lingerie. fishnet. pantie-hoes. socks. stockings. leggings. long johns. under armor. corsets. sports bras. bustles. camisoles. blouses. button ups. tunics. VESTS. waistcoats. leather jackets. ponchos. sweaters/jumpers. hoodies. SKIRTS. jeans. kilts. breeches. scarfs. cravats. ascots. BELTS. sashes. gloves. heels. sandals. platforms. tennis shoes. penny loafers. jordans. slippers. BOOTS. cowboy boots. rain boots. army boots. armor. justaucorps. trench coats. capes. cloaks. burqa. suits. tuxedos. kimonos. saris. sun dresses. gowns.jewelry. earrings. noes rings. lip rings. tongue piercings. belly rings. gauges. eyebrow rings.necklaces. pearl strings. leis. bracelets. bangles. cuffs. watches. friendship bracelets. rings. pendants. lockets. broaches. boutonnieres. pocket watches. cuff links. hats. crowns. circlets. flower crowns. helmets. hijabs. turbans. baseball caps. cowboy hats. brocade. doublet. gorget. bracers. masks. cowls. braces. glasses. sun glasses. eye contacts. pyjamas.

[ MISC ]  ~ balloons. bubbles. candles. BATTLE. WAR. DIPLOMACY. PEACE. money. POWER. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. OPTIMISM. pessimism. loneliness. family. FRIENDS. assistants. co-workers. enemies. LOYALTY. smoking. drugs. KINDNESS. love. sex. hugs. duality. sin. lust. greed. wrath. envy. sloth. gluttony. pride. virtue. CHIVALRY. HONOR. piety. charity. DILIGENCE. chastity. gentleness. AGGRESSION. romance. hatred. grief. pity. success. bitterness. sorrow. joy. fear. ANGER. good. evil. relativity. vampirism. sapphism. life. BIRTH. time. death. illusion. silence.