#I feel like I could buy a leather jacket from a thrift store and get a bedazzler and figure hers out tho

[desperatecheesecubes]

Feel like I haven’t reminded y’all how much I love Conner in a while

[jacksoldsideblog]

Not an ask but some ideas for fem Tyler:

She would never buy woman’s clothes. (Well she might in some second hand store). Cus that’s just a fucking scam- like they make them more expensive and from different materials to make them last less time. It’s just ridiculous really. Also I think she would make her own clothes from whatever shit she found (Idk just a thought). No bras!

Honestly she could just shoplift but that s up to you.

Spends half of her time making jokes on men’s fragile ego and toxic masculinity. And their need for having a sense of control and feeling of superiority is the reason why they try to shame women into fitting the “society expectations” (don’t know how it’s called in English).

Besides that I don’t think she would be that different from the cannon Tyler.

And as for Narrator then I think she would have this lanky (?) body type/posture I have no idea how to explain this but me and my other insomnia suffering friends have/had this weird skinny body type with little tummy because we don’t move much. But it would be before fight club.

I want her to complain about her back pain (just a me thing)

She would wear those cozy (little boring) sweaters.

I feel like Narrator would be the only boxers and too big sweaters type and Tyler the only pants and or boxers type idk

No need to answer this - it’s just my thoughts - anyways do what you want with it

You're right you're right!

I think Tyler would thrift her clothes. Men's clothes are easier to pick out (more accurate sizing, especially pants), made of more resilient materials, more functional. Why wouldn't she? The only potential complication is sometimes they're too big, but Paper Street has this old beat up sewing machine and Tyler(/the Narrator), like plenty of women growing up in the 70s and 80s, had to take a home skills course. She can damn well use a sewing machine, make clothes fit her well enough. And don't get me wrong, I think she would still wear goofy things like male Tyler. It's just, she's very function first. Homemade jorts, leather jacket, neon crocs because she decided to go fishing in the half dead creek down the road, kind of thing.

I think it'd be less that she jokes about male ego and more that she just speaks on it like it's casually accepted fact like the grass being green and the sky being blue. Like, sure everything she says could be proven with a study and already has been probably. But she doesn't really care about that. Someone in fight club mentions having an abusive husband who was a police officer and she just goes "Well yeah, policemen are four times more likely to beat their wives. It makes sense since it's not like their buddies will convict them." As if that's a casual thought and connection everyone has made and remembered in their lives. Martin complains about how most men who want to fuck him also want to degrade him and Tyler just says that's because men consider the things they fuck to be objects not people, so degradation and penetrative sex go hand in hand.

She says this like someone talked about it being rainy and she's saying there was clouds out earlier.

Wrt the narrator's body, yeah totally. I've been there too. When you're a bit underfed because you can't muster up the energy to eat or feel hunger and you have no muscle because all you do is try to sleep or sit in an office chair. Moving in with Tyler is like getting a personal trainer because Tyler takes personal offense to women not eating properly. She WILL orate on how society teaches women to have a dysfunctional relationship with food as a method to control them. Sells them the lie that they can exert control in their life by starving themselves so they don't realize they can control it by rejecting beauty and castrating men. Sells them the lie that not feeling hunger properly is a mild problem you can ignore.

Back pain from muscle weakness due to overall lack of muscle tone would be a thing yeah. The narrator would be at her healthiest in that absolute health hazard of a house.

Yeah I do think the narrator would pretty quickly jump on the "just walking around without pants on" train, was sort of always on it in private at least. Wears sweaters or something to deal with the drafts in the place. Tyler does the opposite, wears pants sometimes. Rarely shirts. Believes all women need to normalize their body to themselves not as something to look at but the thing they are, not what they inhabit. Pesters the narrator into doing random household construction projects while wearing the minimum amount of protective gear and clothing required.

[cosmicpines]

Hi, this is my Code Swap for @lilcuppacoffee! I'm so, so sorry this is so late. I struggled a lot figuring out what I wanted to do with your prompts. I ended up combining two of them in a way I hope works well.

Yumi’s cell phone buzzes, and years of biweekly near-death-unless-you-act-NOW reflexes make her dig into her pocket, heart immediately pounding, until her brain catches up to her gut and she remembers that they’re all safe now. She could ignore the text, finish reading her book. She could be a bad friend, a frustrating teenager and suffer no worse consequences than someone being a bit annoyed at her. She didn’t have to face a potential message that she had to make a decision that she wasn’t sure how to make, even now. She could just –

Buzz.

Her heart pounds again, and it’s so stupid it makes her roll her eyes. “Yeah, alright, you win, phone,” she mutters, taking it out. Two texts from Aelita greet her:

“Hey, do you want to go to the mall in like an hour?”

“I know this is sudden, so no worries if not.”

Yumi’s midway through punching out a reply – yeah, sure! I wasn’t doing anything anyway. Where should I meet you guys – when another one comes in.

“Just the two of us?”

Yumi pauses over the send button for a moment. She had assumed that this was a lunchtime group discussion she missed because she wasn’t on campus today. Deleting the last word of her message, Yumi has a pit in her gut that she can’t seem to get rid of.

Pushing forward, she sends her text, and Aelita replies almost immediately.

“Great! : ) I’ll meet you by the bus stop at Constellation.”

Yumi smiles at her phone, and puts it back in her pocket, still feeling uneasy and not sure why. She fitfully tries to read for another half hour or so before she needs to walk to the bus stop until she gives up. Bookmarking her book, she stands from the floor, sliding her phone back in her jeans pocket. It takes her until after getting her bag, saying goodbye to her parents, putting on her shoes, walking down the street, and seeing a group of two girls laughing with each other to realize what’s bugging her.

She and Aelita haven’t hung out alone practically ever.

One of the girls is teasing the other one about her singing, which she hems and haws at a bit before breaking into a fit of giggles. Yumi passes by them, tearing her eyes off as soon as they could see her. Not that it mattered, she realizes as they pass by – they’re too busy paying attention to each other, too busy having a free and easy conversation with each other. Yumi scowls as they go by.

“Nothing worth worrying about, Yumi,” she mutters to herself, pushing the thoughts away. “Come on, you can handle this.”

Aelita’s already at the bus stop when Yumi gets there, waving. It’s late spring, the first day of the year where you can get away with not wearing a jacket. Yumi’s wearing one – a black leather jacket she picked up off a thrift store rack, falling apart but comfortable – but Aelita isn’t, dressed in a pretty pink coat over a purple dress. She’s carrying a huge, empty bag.

"Planning on buying a lot?” Yumi asks as comes within earshot, and Aelita giggles.

“Yes, actually,” she says, a wicked sparkle in her eyes, “I’m planning on buying a new wardrobe.”

“Oh, what?” Yumi widens her eyes, “Why?”

That was a stupid response, Yumi scolds herself, but Aelita just laugh. Before she can answer, the bus pulls up. They both clamber on board, awkwardly putting money into the machine by the door. The bus is absolutely packed, and there’s only one free seat. Yumi points her thumb at it. “You want it?”

Aelita nods – “Thanks!” – and sits, leaving Yumi holding onto the hanging straps as the bus starts moving.

The bus is anything but silent, between the loud rumble of the bus’s engine to the chatter of people talking to each other. Yumi silences the anxieties bubbling in her stomach by speaking, “You know, I did the same thing when I started at Kadic.”

“Oh, really?” Aelita looks up, still smiling. Yumi sees her put her phone in her pocket quickly, “You mean you weren’t born goth?”

“Haha, very funny. But yeah, my parents were cool about it. Starting a new school, they wanted me to be happy. I’m sure they were more expecting I’d try to wear things to fit in, but I was never a big fan of that.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Aelita’s staring out the window, “I was homeschooled, so I never had to worry about that kind of thing. One time, though, I – this one girl I knew, I think she…” Aelita furrows her brow, her sentence trailing off. The city reflects in her eyes, and her face drops to a dull, quiet look. After a moment, right when Yumi’s considering saying something, Aelita shakes her head and turns back to Yumi, grinning widely. “Well, it doesn’t matter. We’re almost there.”

And before Yumi can say anything, Aelita stands up and walks to the front of the bus. Yumi watches her, and mutters to herself, “What was that all about?” before following her friend’s lead.     

The mall is smaller and smellier than Yumi remembers it being, but, then again, she hasn’t been here in several years. The sparkling-white floor sticks ever so slightly to her boots as they walk through the halls alongside crowds, ignoring stands of people selling knick knacks or eyebrow waxes. Yumi struggles to keep up with Aelita, who is walking determinedly forward, seemingly having a goal in mind. They walk past some of the stores Yumi would usually peg as more of Aelita’s style – preppy, light colored clothing with smiling models in the windows – and she’s trying to figure out where she might be going when Aelita makes a sharp right and Yumi has to hoof it even more to keep up.

“Jeez, Aelita,” she mutters, seeing that she walked into just about the edgiest store Yumi’s ever seen, and that’s saying something. It smells musty, like the employees are wearing a pound of body spray each. They’re older teens, all wearing thick black eyeliner and aggressively trendy clothes. Aelita’s easy to spot with her bright hair among the rows and rows of dark clothing, and Yumi catches up to her.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to give me the slip,” Yumi half-jokes, but Aelita has the decency to look sheepish as she flips through shirts on hangers, pressing a button on her phone through her pocket.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” she says, pulling a semi-transparent black shirt out, “What do you think of this?”

“Not really what I’d call your style,” Yumi answers.

“Perfect,” Aelita nods, hanging it over her arm. “Help me pick out some more stuff like that.”

She’s got a wicked little smirk on her face, and Yumi’s taken aback for a second before laughing, “Alright, princess, if that’s what you want, let’s go for it.”

The nickname feels foreign on Yumi’s tongue, despite having heard it a million and a half times, and it sends another uncomfortable anxious pang through her stomach. Aelita meets her eyes for a fraction of a second, eyes widening, but after a moment, laughs with a smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes, continuing to dig through the racks.

Together, they gather armfuls of the most garish clothing in the store, joking and snarking the entire time. Every item is either pitch black, a garish neon color, or a pattern that hurts to look it. There’s a bucket full of hair accessories – feathers, pins, clips, cheap hair extensions – that Aelita just picks up and carries with her. The employees look at them with judging glances and snicker behind their hands. It makes Yumi want to call them out, but Aelita seems completely unconcerned, moving through the store with a determined look on her face.

Finally, Aelita’s apparently endless desire for clothing satisfied, she heads to the dressing room. Yumi sits on the bench outside, having not picked out anything for herself.

“Thanks for coming,” Aelita says through the door. Yumi can hear the rustle of clothing and the clatter of hangers as Aelita moves around, although she can’t see her friend.

“Of course,” Yumi says to the door. “Though, I’m not sure you’re accomplishing getting a new wardrobe out of these things.”

“Oh, come on, Yumi!” Aelita tuts, “How is… hold on…”

Yumi hears the sounds of a zipper being done and undone and hears Aelita quietly swear to herself, and it makes her snicker. After a moment, the door opens, and Aelita steps out, dressed in a ridiculously overcomplicated mess of zippers, fluff, and belts. Every movement makes the zippers jingle.

“How is this not peak fashion?” Aelita asks with a smirk, and Yumi fails to stifle a laugh.

Aelita looks at herself in the mirror, and Yumi has to admire the calculated look in her eyes. She’s not just doing this to look goofy, she realizes – she’s actively assessing what she does and doesn’t like. Yumi’s heart skips a beat as she realizes Aelita’s not joking around. Whatever she’s looking for, she’s serious. Furrowing her brow, Yumi stands and walks over to the mirror, humming quizzically.

“Well,” she says, “I think the jacket is pretty good, all things considered. The shirt,” she gestures to the shirt, which is bright green leopard print with artsy tears in it, “Definitely not with that skirt,” she points to the checkered black and purple pattern, “Clashes like crazy. I’d pick one or the other.”

Aelita nods, “I think I like the shirt. I wear too many skirts; I was hoping this one would be different enough I’d like it.”

“Really? You, too many skirts? What happened to you asking Jeremie to put that little skirt on over your new Lyoko outfit?”

Aelita laughs, but there’s something forced about it, and, after a moment, rushes back into the changing room. The sound of clothing rustling starts up again, and Yumi’s left looking at the door, mildly surprised. She and Aelita might not be as close as they look to be on paper, but even she can tell the girl is upset about something. It’s the way she keeps smiling after every sentence she says but cuts conversations off. It’s how Yumi keeps seeing her phone screen light up in her pocket. Something happened; she just can’t tell if Aelita is trying to get her to ask about it or is trying to talk about anything but.

“Hmm, Yumi?”

“What?” Yumi blinks, shocked out of her momentary daze.

“Can you get me these pants the next size up?”

A pair of black jeans flies over the top of the dressing room, and, instinctively, Yumi leaps forward to catch it. She goes wide, and her boots screech against the floor as she balances herself.

“You alright?” Aelita asks, “Sorry, should have made sure you were ready!”

“No, no, I’m fine!” Yumi says, “I’ll get it for you.”

As Yumi goes back to the store, she frowns. After a moment’s hesitation, she pulls out her phone and texts Ulrich.

“Hey, did something happen with Aelita?”

While Yumi searches for the right pair of jeans, her phone buzzes.

“Not that I know of?”

“Huh. She’s acting kind of weird.”

“Weird bad?”

“Weird upset,” Yumi texts with one hand and flips through pants with the other, “Do Odd or Jer know anything?”

“Haven’t seen them today. Been at soccer. Do you need me to find them? I can make an excuse.”

“No, I don’t want to make a big deal if it’s nothing. Or if it’s one of them.” Yumi pauses a moment, before texting, “Thanks, though. You’re sweet.”

She knows Ulrich well enough to know his face doesn’t match his text, which just says, “np”. Allowing herself one moment to smile at her phone, she finally finds the pair of jeans she needs.

They spend the rest of the afternoon like this, going from store to store, trying a huge variety of fashion styles. Aelita makes a wide breadth from any store of her typical style, and Yumi’s happy to indulge her, even if she knows next to nothing about fashion. The bag on Aelita’s arm increasingly fills with shirts, pants, accessories, and shoes. The one thing Yumi pulls her away from is a hairdresser advertising quick dyes – “No permanent changes on a whim, that’s a rule,” – and, despite her momentary protest, Aelita goes with her.

Yumi becomes increasingly aware that something happened, though. Every time the conversation drifts to the guys, Aelita snaps it back to anything else – her new clothes, school, gossip, dinner plans – with a huge, fake smile. It reaches a point that it’s grating on Yumi’s nerves, but she keeps going along with it.

It’s late in the afternoon and they find themselves in a department store. Yumi’s exhausted, but Aelita’s still looking for something formal, so they decide on the one last store. They walk into the section with dresses, and Aelita walks around the models, arms clutching on the huge bag. Both of them are chattering with each other about nothing in particular but Yumi’s watching Aelita carefully. She walks by a pink dress and grabs at it instinctively, rubbing the fabric between her fingertips. Her eyes sharpen, and she lets go, stepping away purposefully, walking across the room towards a black one. Yumi hesitates, frowning, then follows Aelita. They find a dressing room in the back of the store that a sleepy attendant lets them into; no other customers are anywhere nearby.

“One last one, thanks again,” Aelita apologizes, before closing the door.

“No, it’s no problem, really,” Yumi says, taking a seat. The familiar sounds of clothing rustling begin, and Yumi drums her fingers against her leg.

“Do you remember Ms. Hertz’s unit on titrations?” Aelita asks, “I think she teaches it pretty poorly. I was just saying to J – well – I –,”

Yumi hears her fumble over Jeremie’s name, and, finally, gives in, “Aelita, are you okay?”

There’s a moment where only the muffled music from the main area of the store plays, alongside the clicking and scraping of clothes and hangers in the changing room.

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” Aelita finally says.

“No,” Yumi cuts into the silence that follows, “No, I get enough of this ‘yeah, it’s nothing’ nonsense from Ulrich.”  

“Well, he's emotionally stupid. I’m fine.”

“Aelita,” Yumi insists, standing up and approaching the changing room door, “I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

She gives Aelita a moment to reply, but, not doing so, Yumi continues, voice growing in volume, “You’re completely changing your look, ignoring anything that you see that looks anything like what you normally wear. You keep talking about nothing, directing all conversation away from the guys. You asked me to go the mall out of nowhere, when we basically never hang out. Something is wrong, and you’re refusing to tell me.”

Yumi breathes out, frustratedly. Aelita continues to not reply, but she’s stopped moving around, too. Yumi stands on the other side of the changing room door, wishing she knew how she could reach her.

“I broke up with Jeremie.”

Yumi’s eyes widen at the door. “You – what?” she says dumbly, her mind drawing a blank.

After a long moment, she hears the quiet pat of Aelita’s feet against the floor, the rustle of clothing on a rack. “Yeah,” Aelita says.

The door opens, and Aelita’s wearing the black dress. It’s long and ruffled, brushing against the ground, a few inches too long. She’s staring determinedly at the floor, not making eye contact as she pushes past Yumi to the mirror. Yumi turns, looking at her own reflection in the mirror.

“But… why?” Her heart sinks, and she’s suddenly angry as possibilities flash through her head, “Did he do –,”

“No,” Aelita interjects, quickly, snapping her head up. “No, he’s fine. It’s not that. It’s…”

She turns back to the mirror, staring. Her arms are draped in fabric that looks so unlike her; a choker from several stores ago is awkwardly around her throat, and she keeps picking at it. After a minute, she speaks up, “I… don’t know what it’s like to not be with him.”

Yumi doesn’t understand what she means, and it must be obvious on her face, because Aelita continues, “Like… I woke up on Lyoko, and he was the first person I had ever seen. He was so nice and cared so much about me immediately,” her face is bitter and downcast, “And he liked me, and I liked him back. It was all so easy and perfect. He brought me here. He gave me money and an identity and everything. He even found my father and my past.

“But… just because… I…” she swallows, and Yumi can see tears beginning to form in her eyes, which she angrily rubs away, “I… don’t know who I am. I’ve only defined myself with what you’ve all given me. You’re Aelita, you’re our princess, you’re our angel. You’re my daughter. And don’t get me wrong! I’m super grateful to all of you. You’ve given me a second life and I – I –,”

Aelita trails off, then laughs, shakily. “This dress looks terrible,” she says, with a shaky laugh, “I’m trying too hard.”

She brushes past Yumi to go back into the changing room, but Yumi grabs her arm.

“You want your life to be your own,” Yumi says, her face hard, “You don’t want anyone else to decide who Aelita Hopper – or – Schaeffer –,”

“Stones,” Aelita interjects, pulling her arm free, “Aelita Schaeffer is dead.”

Yumi’s stomach clenches, and she watches helplessly as Aelita reenters the changing room. After a moment, though, where she can hear Aelita changing again, she purses her lips.

“Good.”

The sounds stop. “What?” Aelita squeaks, bewildered.

“Good!” Yumi reaffirms. She isn’t sure if this is the right thing to do or say, but it’s what her gut is telling her to do, so she presses forward, “You’re not her, then. That’s fine. You don’t have to be Franz Hopper’s daughter or Jeremie’s girlfriend or any of our friends just because we landed in front of you.”

Aelita doesn’t answer, and Yumi barrels forward, “We can go dye your hair, if you want. We can burn your wardrobe. We –,” her voice catches, and she hesitates, “You. You can do these things. I – you don’t need me, if you don’t… Are you going to leave?”

The question is absurd; Aelita’s an eight grader with no family and no money. She couldn’t leave Kadic if she wanted to. But the thought of Aelita just being gone makes Yumi’s stomach drop out from beneath her.

The door scrapes open, and Aelita stands there, back in her own clothes, arms full of the clothes she tried. Her eyes are bright red, but glaring, and her lip wobbles, clutching her vain attempts at being someone else tightly in her arms.

“Yumi,” she whispers, angrily, “I invited you here today, didn’t I?”

Yumi looks back at her, and nods, slowly.

“I’m not… I thought about this,” Aelita sniffs, loudly, “Augh, why – am I –,”

“Here,” Yumi starts going, “I can find a tissue from the bathroom –,”

“No,” Aelita suddenly barrels into Yumi, and Yumi staggers. The bag of clothing hits the ground, and Aelita wraps her arms around Yumi, shaking and crying. After a moment, Yumi, hesitantly, wraps her arms around her too.

“No,” Aelita whispers, “No, I’m not – I’m shouldn't cut you all out. I’m not going anywhere. Not yet, anyway. I’m going to find my own life, but I know for sure I want you all to be part of it. Especially you,” she hugs her, tighter, “We’re supposed to be best friends, the two girls in our friend group, but we really aren’t. I’m changing that first.”

Oh.

Yumi, swallowing down sudden tears of her own, hugs Aelita back. “Alright,” she whispers into her hair, “Let’s do that.”

[parisbytaylorswift]

As a fashion student how would you describe your style? And what are some of your favorite fashion looks that you always come back to admire?

Mmm okay you gave me a lot to discuss. So now you’re getting a detailed little mini fashion report I hope you enjoy <3

My Style: Lately I feel like my personal style has been largely influenced by a lot of vintage 1960s/70s trends. I feel as if that look will come to be a sort of lasting trend throughout the 2020s as a whole, which has to do with a lot of things. Push from sustainability movement has made people shop vintage a lot more, and 60s/70s were kind of the last era in American clothing before fast fashion and more polyester and tshirt styles really took over, so they’re going to be the most affordable/good condition thrift clothes to look for. It was also sort of the last era of masses still making their own clothes. Post-70s were when department stores really surged throughout the country. But a classic sort of 1960s shift dress (like the black one pictured) is a really fun, comfortable, and easy to make yourself design, since, it’s basically just a box lol. Even if you’re not very skilled at sewing, you could pretty easily take materials from an older dress and make it into a fun shift dress with a pattern.

Classics: Quality Jackets. I can never say it enough. You get so much more use out of them than any other item (besides shoes). There is absolutely nothing wrong with wearing the same jacket 5 days in a row! I think a good leather moto jacket, printed blazer, and either a solid peacoat or just a nice clean tan trench coat can instantly solidify a great wardrobe and go with pretty much anything you wear. (Honestly on days that I’m lazy and don’t want to really get dressed at all, I’ll wear tshirt/jeans or jean shorts, and just one of those three/fourish styles of jackets and instantly look put together and great). - the other big classic that I constantly recommend to people is to simply buy pants that aren’t jeans. Belted trousers are the comfiest long car ride pants I love them so much AND they look so much more professional than like, leggings or something. Corduroy pants or cigarette style pants are also really great and easily elevate any standard tshirt outfit. Love them, they never get old.

On the Outs: Pleather jackets and pants. Pleather really just, isn’t great in general. Yes, brands will tote it around as “Vegan” and promote it under a sustainability lens. But the reality is that for quality faux leathers (like what designers like Stella McCartney use) those are still going to be very expensive. And pleather is not quality. It’s extremely hard to maintain in the long term, and most pleather items land in dumpsters or resale after one season of wear. Save your money, skip it. Save up for real leather, find it second hand, or just skip it altogether.

Upcoming: Again with push from sustainability movements, brands seem much more interested in using deadstock fabrics, which we can do as consumers as well. The patchy/multi print blazer is something we saw on high fashion runways this year, as well as in a lot of street fashions. If the collar on a blazer you love is in disrepair, you can always mend it. Adding blocks or accents of other prints or colors will make it a more unique piece that’s really made just for you.

[bizzstfdreams]

Musky New Life

This is for @theundergroundstories as part of the TF Story Exchange. I hope you enjoy, it is not my normal types of stories but enjoyed writing it. Here is a link to the story he wrote for me. Check out his blog!

James was your typical nerdy guy. He enjoyed comic books and playing D&D with his buddies. He wasn’t an imposing person in any way, very soft spoken. His friends always joked with him that he vanished when he turned sideways because he was so skinny. He didn’t really mind but as he got older he started to be self conscious about his looks.

Some of his friends were starting to grow not just with muscles…but also with fat from sitting around and gaming so much. But no matter what, James found he couldn’t actually gain much weight. His style was also not evolving like many other peoples were. James stuck to his jeans, t-shirts, and hoodies mainly, he never would dress up much.

James was starting to want to venture out with his look…become like some of the more popular guys with better fitting clothes that could make him look tough.

He figured going to the local thrift store would be a good place to look for something without spending much. James went to look and was searching through the racks of clothing seeing if anything would jump out to him to buy. It wasn’t until he got to the jackets that he started to see some cool things. He kept looking through the racks…not realizing he was taking in a rich musky scent from one of the items. Once he got to the jacket…and touched it…it was like he knew it was meant to be.

James pulled the leather jacket from the rack looking it over. He seemed way too big for him…but something told him to put it on. He pulled the buttery black leather up his arms. It felt amazing on his skin…so soft and smooth. Jame was amazed at the feeling of this real leather on him as he got the jacket pulled on fully. It was several sizes too big for him but James knew it had to have it. The scent coming off it was actually turning him on and he had no idea why. It was a mix of rich leather and then a strong musk.

James took it up to the register and was surprised at the price, instead of being like $100 it was marked for just $20. He was excited to find such a nice jacket for a cheap price. He decided to wear the jacket out…still feeling compelled to keep it near him. He headed home with the jacket…getting more turned on the longer he had it on him. Once home he stripped down leaving on only the jacket…and having the best jerk off session he had experienced in a long time.

James was wearing the jacket everywhere he could anymore and his friends were noticing. Not just because of the musky scent…but also because it seemed like James was more confident. It was like the jacket was helping make him a stronger guy who didn’t put up with the teasing.

It wasn’t until about a week later that James noticed his chest was starting to grow hair now. It was something he could never really do before, but now there it was on his chest. He ran his hands through it and moaned loving it. His chest was even looking more developed than before. James had been hitting the gym some but not enough to make a difference in his body yet.

Over the next few days James was starting to notice that he was needing more deodorant to cover a stronger musk that was coming from him. He was confused as to why he would smell when he wasn’t really doing anything. The stronger musk was also getting the attention of others…but not in a bad way. Guys were starting to hit on James more which was a total shock to him.

James was finding himself going to the gym more as well…and the improvements to his body were coming way faster than he expected. He wasn’t fat but did have some fat on his belly area but had noticed recently that was starting to fade and defined abs were appearing. His pecs were also starting to get more defined. The leather jacket was also starting to fit his frame more. He didn’t really think anything about it since he was working out.

The things that interested James were also starting to really change. He was not playing video games as much lately and D&D was not getting his interest. James started to find he was caring more about the gym as well as just sports in general. His friends were confused why he was starting to blow them off more.

At night was the weirdest time for James…his dreams were not what they used to be. He was an alpha in the dreams now, but not only that he was speaking a new language. He always enjoyed learning about other languages…but Russian just wasn’t one he had gotten into. But now his dreams were him speaking it fluently and understanding what others were saying to him. When James would wake up the next morning…he felt like it was real and actually found he could start to read the language.

It wasn’t until a few days later that James got a real shock…he got out of bed…slowly made his way to the bathroom…and when he got there looked in the mirror to see his longer hair was now fairly short…and almost starting to recede on the sides. His face was also showing signs of aging…like he wasn’t the 22 year old he was…but rather someone in their 30s. The strange thing was that no one else seemed to even notice a difference in his appearance. It was like this was how he always looked to them.

The more people accepted this as him…the more his mind started to feel different. James…or Ivan as he liked to think of himself was feeling so confident now. His musk was strong and manly…something he said he had wished he had when he was growing up. The musk he was getting from himself was actually the same from the jacket when he originally bought it…but now he just thought it was how he always smelled and made his jacket smell himself.

With him now starting to accept himself as Ivan….a burly Russian man…his other items started to be replaced. His drivers license suddenly showed a photo of Ivan…saying he was now 33. His birth certificate also changed to say he was born in Moscow. James…well Ivan…never realized that it was the musky jacket that he bought that would really change his life. But now he was confident and would attract anyone he wanted.

[thesmokingguns]

Thrift Store

Word Count 1916

Fluff

You rolled your eyes watching the man walk into the thrift shop you owned. The bell had rung drawing your attention to the tall man with teased hair and leather from head to toe.

This was the type of person you were used to seeing duck into the shop on The Strip looking to score some piece of cool clothing for their stage outfit. All of them loved chatting you up about what night their band was going to play and how you should totally check them out because they were going to make it. The only place they were going to make it was to third base with some bottle blonde.

You flipped your magazine, eyes looking up to the man who was dragging the metals hangers to the side looking through the leather jackets. Typical of him to be in that section. He didn’t look like the type to steal so you didn’t really pay that much attention to him until he was right in front of you a few minutes later.

“Excuse me.” You dragged your eyes up looking at him. He was holding up a black jacket you had found at a yard sale last weekend, “This doesn’t have a price on it. Could you tell me how much it is?” The jacket would look good on him and it would definitely fit better than the one he was wearing that didn’t even cover his wrists.

“Ten dollars and the jacket you’re wearing.” You replied to him. You could redo his jacket and sell it for triple the price. He seemed surprised but was tugging off his jacket and sliding the new one on already.

You were right, it did fit him perfectly. It took away the little boy playing dress up and made him look like a man.  He looked in the mirror and you watched this small smile, confidence slipping into his face. That’s when you really took him in and appreciated the way he was built. He had a strong jawline and these olive eyes that were the kind that got girls into trouble.

“Listen, I know you’re cutting me a huge deal. Can I buy you a drink tonight? My band is playing at the Whisky at midnight. You can meet me before or if you want to stick around after I’m sure there will be a party at our apartment.” There it was. The line where he invited you out because he needed more chicks in the audience.

“I’m really busy tonight. I’m sorry.” You actually felt sorry when you lied. But there was no way you, you were going to get sucked into going to see some shitty club band when you could stay in bed and not be annoyed with people. You held out your hand taking the crumpled bills he handed you.

“That was a shitty line, wasn’t  it?” He rubbed the back of his neck and you watched the leather stretch over his bicep. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t like one of the thin chicken boys who came in. He had muscles and was filled out.

“Look, I’m sure your band is great but I’m not going to go see them because you bought a jacket from me.” He nodded understandingly, “But you do look good in the jacket so at least you have that.” You teased him, loving how he smiled from the corner of his mouth, he had to be older than you by a few years and there was this mystery about him that had you wanting to ask more questions but instead you took the jacket he had been wearing, throwing it on your bag for home and went back to flipping through your magazine.

He was still standing in front of the register as if he hadn’t quite worked out that you weren’t going to go out with him. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked back up at him.

“It’s past lunch time but maybe we can grab a beer and a burger now?” Your eyebrow shot up at his offer. A beer and a burger was much better than seeing a shitty band play. You looked around the shop, it was 1:30pm on a Friday. Soon the place would be mobbed with kids from the Valley looking for new clothes to wear for their weekend nights in Hollywood. This was one of your busy days and you knew that you couldn’t leave.

“I can’t leave. It’s busy here Friday afternoon but if you wear that jacket tonight I’m sure that you’ll find a great girl for beer and burgers on Saturday afternoon.” You smiled. He seemed confused about why you kept turning down your advances.

“Well, if you won’t go out with me can I at least have your name?” You heard the bell ring and looked past him to the two young teens walking in.

“It’s Y/N. Now you need to get out of here because I have customers.” You moved around the counter slightly grazing against him as you moved down the aisles to check on the kids who seemed like they wouldn’t have a problem stuffing things into their bags. You watched the man walk out of the shop, smiling at the whole encounter.

The night was steady. People crammed into the small store and it turned out to be a great day for business. You locked the safe at the end of the night and jumped out of your skin when you heard a knock on the glass door. Your eyes narrowed seeing a man shifting outside and you grabbed the baseball bat next to the register.

It was dark outside but you could hear people laughing as they passed outside, which just heightened your senses as you got closer. It suddenly dawned on you that it was the guy from earlier. He noticed you finally at the door and held up his hands. One hand was holding a six pack and the other a brown paper bag with grease stains on the bottom.

“It doesn’t seem busy now.” he yelled through the door. The way he was standing there made you shake your head, turning the lock as you opened up and let him inside the shop. His eyes took in the bat you were holding as you locked up the door, “Are you in a late night baseball league?” You roll your eyes, locking the door up.

“I thought you had a show.” He tosses you a beer and you’re taking him in wondering what angle this man is trying to come at you from.

“We play at midnight. I have an hour to have burgers and beers with you, Y/N.” The crinkle of the bag makes you watch his movements, “There’s this little hole in the wall joint that makes the best burgers around the corner from here.” The stranger is handing you a wrapped red and white checkered burger.

“I don’t know your name and you expect me to just have dinner with you.” The suspicious nature you have makes it hard to tell if this guy is usually this spontaneous or if he wants something from you. Knowing how the men in this area are, you're sure that he is going to try and get something.

“I’m Nikki Sixx.” The name makes your eyes roll. Another boy with a fake stage name and dreams of being a rock and roll superstar but he brought beer and burgers so you can’t just kick him out.

It’s a quick hour and after the initial eye rolling over his name and the slight boredom when he talks about his band you find yourself listening to him talk. Actually listening and caring about what he says. The way he describes his dreams isn’t with the youthful nativity you have come across from your time in Hollywood. No, Nikki has a plan to achieve his dream and it includes a lot of hard work. He isn’t afraid to work for his dreams because he knows that is how he will get them.

He’s easy to talk to and you find yourself laughing so hard you’re covering your mouth at the stories he tells you. From the way his band does maniac things to funny stories of schemes he’s done to survive. You don’t know why it’s so easy to laugh with him. But what you like the most about him is how he asks questions about you that would get lost with other people. He doesn’t make the hour you have together all about his rockstar dreams but he turns the conversation to what your goals are. His eyes are thoughtful, watching you as you speak about fashion design and how the store is a stepping stone for you. He even gets you to show him some of the things you altered and designed. The usual embarrassment you might feel void because of how comfortable he makes you feel.

Eyes keep darting to the clock and you know he’s stayed past the hour he had told you he had before his show. Until finally he’s pushed his time back as far as he could and he’s getting up to leave, knowing that he’s going to have to run from the store right onto stage..

“I’m glad that you let me in tonight. I had a great time getting to know you, Y/N. The band doesn't play tomorrow night so if you’re around Sunday I’d like to tag along to your yard sales you were talking about.” He’s saying it because he wants to spend time with you and the fact he’s willing to hang out on a Sunday afternoon to see something you like has you softening to his charms. He is a lot different from the usual clientele of the store with a self centered nature and a rock n roll attitude without the fame.

“Well, you know where I work. My apartment’s above here. If you’re serious, meet me at 11am Sunday and we can go explore together.” Nikki nods at your words and you wish he’d invite you to the show again but even in the short time you’ve talked to him you know he won’t. He doesn’t want to be rejected twice for something that he cares about. But he has shown such a sincere interest in your passions and you find that you want to see him play. “Do you mind if I walk to the Whisky with you to see the show? I heard there’s a pretty good band playing tonight.” His eyes flash up and it’s nice to see you’ve surprised him by changing your mind. He doesn’t seem like the type that is surprised too often

As you’re walking, chattering nonstop with the stranger you met in the shop this morning your mind wanders to the leather jacket he’s wearing. That jacket was made for him to wear. As soon as you saw him holding it you knew that he was going to go home with it. If he hadn’t come looking for that jacket your day would have been a lot different. Now you were with the bassist of a band going to the Whisky to see another band try to make it off the Strip and into the stars. But the usual apathetic feeling you had about these bands were gone and you were thinking that this person would really make it. And you were rooting for him.

[thewinedark]

Unique Dark Academia Fashion Ideas

By now I think we all know that silk shirts, oxfords, and old blazers are staples of Dark Academia fashion. Here are some ideas for fitting your wardrobe to the aesthetic that I haven’t seen a lot of. 

Tops

Silk button downs are great, but if you want something perhaps less fancy and simple, here are some ideas:

Cardigans. Specifically, tighter button down cardigans. While they are very similar to silk shirts, they aren’t quite as eye catching, and usually not as bright. I have a cream silk blend cardigan that I’ve been wearing under blazers instead of silk; it’s warmer, for one, and doesn’t make me feel so pretentious when my classmates are all in sweatpants.

Cotton. Especially for warmer months, a good cotton shirt looks great tucked in a pair of high waisted shorts or trousers. I would suggest one with buttons as an accent, to avoid it being too plain. You can also roll up the sleeves for peak “disgruntled professor/lawyer” look. 

Sweaters. I don’t just mean a black turtleneck here. Turtlenecks are of course great for winter and fall, but other sweaters are great also. I especially would suggest sweaters with interesting weaves or embroidery, as without the turtleneck they often need a little something extra to dress it up. There’s also the classic look of putting a button down underneath and pulling the collar out. For colors, jewel tones are always best in my opinion: deep reds, emerald greens, midnight blues. But you know yourself best, and if your hair looks great with cream, or light blue makes your eyes pop, go for it. Be sure to tuck over sized sweaters into your bottoms to avoid losing your figure. 

Bottoms

Bottoms are a little easier, as they’re usually not the statement piece of an outfit, especially in dark academia. Still, high waisted, pleated, 100% linen trousers are hard to find in thrift stores, so here’s some alternatives: 

Black jeans. Personally, I avoid low waisted pants like the plague. Unfortunately, it’s hard to find high waisted suit pants in thrift stores, especially ones with the tighter fit that I prefer. Often, I go for my pair of good quality, 100% cotton, extremely high waisted black skinny jeans instead. Avoid jeans with rips or that aren’t a uniform color. I definitely would suggest black if you’re going to wear jeans, though that may be my inherent dislike of blue jeans talking. 

High waisted pants of any kind. When it comes to tucking shirts in bottoms, you want a high waist. I can tuck the bulkiest of sweaters easily into my jeans, because they are high waisted and made of a thick material. Thin, flimsy material is hard to hide the lines of your tops in, and lower waisted pants often can’t hold the hem long before the top gets untucked. 

Skirts. I prefer more masculine clothing, but I do have quite a few skirts that I wear on occasion. And good lord, if they aren’t the most comfortable pieces of clothing I own. Specifically, long flowing skirts made out of 100% silk, cotton, or wool. Wool is great for winter months, and adds an extra layer of protection from the cold. Cotton and silk is best for the hot summer time, and if you’re having trouble with staying in dark academia fashion when you’re sweating out of your fingernails, consider skirts. A long skirt can dress up something like a t-shirt if you do it right. Sandals, a long breathable skirt, and a tied up or tucked in shirt is a great go-to when the sun is sucking away your soul. 

Shoes

I still don’t own a pair of oxfords. 

Boots. I’m a boot person. For dark academia, I would avoid taller boots; ankle boots or calf-length boots are the way to go. Go for leather, and tighter fits. A great way to pull your outfit together is to match your shoes and your belt or bag, and well as the hardware. If your belt is black with a silver buckle, go with black boots with silver accents. Try to avoid mixing metals (silver with bronze, etc.) if at all possible.

Ballet shoes. I don’t own any, but personally I think they’d be a great alternative to simple flats; especially if you lace the silk ribbons up your shins a bit. These are definitely best for summer months though, I would not recommend during the winter.

Accessories

A single accessory can completely change your outfit and aesthetic. Personally, some of my most used clothing pieces are not what you’d call dark academia. My go-to jacket is a bomber jacket with patches, and my usual boots are heavy Harley Davidson biker boots with metal caps. Here are some accessories that can turn your everyday outfit to something more dark academia-esque. 

Suspenders. I would recommend suspenders for everyone honestly. I was having trouble with a pair of trousers, because I needed to keep them high on my waist and tight to tuck in my shirt, but they had no belt loops. Suddenly I realized someone had solved the issue centuries ago, and used my suspenders. It worked perfectly, and also added a whole new level of dark academia to my outfit. I like using them in a subtle way though: under a jacket or blazer usually, that I might take off if it gets hot and just so happen to show off the suspenders underneath. Or, never even take the jacket off and just let people get subtle looks at them. Drawing attention to suspenders makes me feel like a douche for some reason; maybe it’s the images of fedora tipping that flood in. 

Satchel or book bag. I know this one is a staple, but listen. Buying leather satchel changed everything for my look. I might have a bomber jacket, skinny jeans, and biker boots but a satchel thrown over one shoulder shifts everything about my appearance. If you are able to buy one new, Amazon has some great options under $100 dollars. If not, keep your eye out whenever you go to the thrift store.

Hair accessories. Try silk ribbons. Pull your hair back with them, braid them into your hair, or use them as headbands. Learn how to braid metal cuffs into your hair if you’re up for a challenge.

Scarves. Scarves are such an easy way to dress up an outfit, as well as keep you warm. I would suggest long, silk scarves that have enough width that you can style it around your head/hair, which I think is a great look that also keeps your ears warm. Jewel tones are definitely suggested here, especially if you’re wearing all black it’s a great statement. 

Jewelry. If you’re religious, I would highly suggest jewelry with some sort of religious symbolism. Religious imagery is something I defiantly associate with dark academia. If you have any jewelry pieces that were passed down to you, try them. I like rings a lot, but for my right hand I cover all my finger with heavy steel rings that cover my knuckles (for punching purposes). On my left hand, I have rings from my family. I would again suggest not mixing metals, though it can look eclectic if that’s a look you like. 

That’s all I could think of at this moment, but feel free to add your own or message me!  Go forth and dress to make yourself confident, whatever that may look like. 

[blush-and-books]

The End of Julie and the Phantoms - A [very long] Theory

The core of this theory was inspired by many posts that I have seen saying that Julie’s “everything was a dream” shirt may have insinuated that nothing happening on the show is actually reality. I brought my series finale pitch to my dear friend @willexx who then helped me develop this headcanon into something I cried about during lunch. 

It starts out pretty heavy, but there are some little light things here and there because it’s what the himbos would have wanted.

We start here:

In the last episode, the boys are ready too cross over. It’s an emotional moment for everyone, they’re crying, Julie is sobbing, and we as an audience have definitely seen better days. With one last “we love you, Julie,” a flash of light overtakes the garage space, blinding our screens. 

The scene flashes to Julie lying in bed, waking up from her ringing alarm. 

She is visibly confused, clearly wondering how she got to bed when the last thing that she remembers is the boys’ painful departure. When she reaches for her phone to turn off her alarm -- it’s a school day -- she quickly notices the date:

It’s the same day in 2020 that she met the boys, that she was going to clean out her mom’s garage, and that she had to perform to keep her spot in the music program. 

So, none of it was real?

Not exactly. 

The experience was a sort of dream-like saga that was designed for her to be able to grieve on her own, and rediscover her voice in her own way. But just as the panic sets in that it was a complete figment of her imagination, the feeling of cold metal on her left hand becomes too hard to ignore: One of Luke’s rings. 

Reggie’s leather jacket is hanging in her closet.

Alex’s fanny pack is slung across the back of a chair. 

But when she runs downstairs, clad in her dinosaur slippers, rushing to the garage to see if the guys were there -- they aren’t. They have crossed over. 

As she moves through the day, she’s a new Julie, but everything else is the same. Instead of a baseball cap and low ponytail, Julie throws on her black jeans and Reggie’s leather and lets her hair run wild. She’s displaying a confidence that Flynn hasn’t seen in a long time, that seemed to have hit Julie overnight. 

Julie sings Wake Up in music, and keeps her spot in the program. She doesn’t oogle Nick in the halls and she tells Carrie off when there’s an attempt at an insult made. 

Real or not, the boys helped her. They did their job. 

When she gets home, and Ray irks her about cleaning the garage or selling the house, she is quick to insist that she doesn’t want to move and that if he needs her for the rest of the night, she’ll be in her mother’s studio.

There aren’t any instruments except for the piano, and the space has the original layer of dust that it had before her and the guys started using the space again. Julie feels empty. But she reminds herself that the ring on her finger is real, extremely real, so she retraces her steps that she had taken in the first episode and tracks down the Sunset Curve demo CD, puts it in the stereo, and plays it. 

Nothing happens. Or, at least -- nothing that she could see.

The camera pans up as Julie is hard at work to organize the garage, and we see the boys in the chairs on the ceiling, watching over her fondly. 

~This is where @willexx started to throw in some epic ideas~

The boys are real, and they have crossed over, which renders Julie unable to see them. However, in her reset reality without them, no one remembers Julie and the Phantoms or the fact that the boys existed in the first place. The boys, while she can’t see them, visit her and try to make contact with her as much as they can, even though their times with her are limited since they are supposed to be on the other side.

She’ll feel a ghost of a touch on her hand or her hair, and know that Luke is there. When she’s in the car and the radio is on a country station, she knows that it’s Reggie. In a journal for school, a small “okay” will be written in the corner of a page, and it is Alex. These little notes keep her going, and she’ll just sigh and say “my boys,” and leave everyone around her confused. 

Sometimes, when she wakes up in the morning, the demo tape can be heard playing in the garage. Somehow she’ll get filled with hope that if she runs into the garage, the boys will be there rocking out without her like she used to scold them for left and right -- but no one is there. Ray comments that the stereo is broken and Julie has no choice but to nod along. 

One day she finds Luke’s songbook that had been buried in the plastic garbage bags of the boys’ belongings. She still brings Unsaid Emily to his parents, and she cries herself to sleep that night. 

When Julie blows up as a solo artist, she actually records Unsaid Emily, and she records Bright, and all of the other songs that her and Luke wrote together. Luke Patterson is in the writing credits for many of the songs, where Trevor never bothered to list him, and a part of Luke is at piece. 

On the two year anniversary of Rose’s passing, Julie finds Luke’s “angst flannel.” Ray asks where she got it; she tells him a thrift store. But it feels warm, like all of the guys are there, hugging her. 

Another morning, she could swear that Luke and Reggie are strumming out Flying Solo on level one volume, and once again finds herself darting to the garage with no good excuse except to keep her hopes up. They, unsurprisingly, aren’t there -- but a note is, that says “you’re a star, Jules. We love you.”

The handwriting is messy. She knows it’s from Luke, who probably fought the boys to even write the note because he just wanted to talk to her even though they need to move on and his handwriting is awful. The note gets tucked into the pocket of the flannel, and when she needs to be reminded that she’ll be okay, she pulls it out of the pocket and holds it tight. 

Before every show, she reads the note, and mumbles a little prayer to them wherever they are -- even if no one else believes they are real. 

When Luke’s flannel starts to lose it’s original sweet scent of Emily and Mitch’s house, Julie spends an hour crying on the floor of her bathroom. A faded orange beanie appears in her room the next day. 

Little notes from Luke appear here and there, but never from any of the guys. In the shadows where she can’t see them, Alex tells Luke that in order for both themselves and Julie to move on, Luke needs to stop leaving her notes -- so most of the ones that Julie finds are even more messy than usual, like Luke was trying to write them without the guys noticing. 

During one of their forbidden conversations, Julie says to Luke: “hey, I never told you this before... But I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what I would do without knowing that you guys were still around. I think I would have lost my mind, and would have been convinced that I went crazy.”

Luke could have ran to Alex, repeated Julie’s tearful words, and given the drummer a fat “I told you so.” But he doesn’t. Julie’s validation is the only validation that he needs. 

Whenever her and Carlos and Ray make an extra seat at their dinner table for Rose, Julie imagines, deep in her mind, that it is for Reggie too. Reggie deserved a seat at their table; deserved to be a part of their family. A family that would have loved him.  And when a fork falls off of the table, Julie knows he’s there. One day, Julie asks Ray how he would have felt about having another son. He responds confused, and Julie gets tears in her eyes, and neither of them bring it up again.

When Julie and Flynn go to Pride together, Julie wears Alex’s fanny pack even though she hadn’t gotten any signs from him since they had all moved on. He still doesn’t reach out afterwards, too overwhelmed by her gesture to think of a way to properly extend his gratitude and love for the girl who is keeping his spirit alive -- but Luke lets her know that he was grateful. 

Luke still visits Julie like he visits Emily and Mitch. And on Luke’s birthday every year, Julie goes to a little bakery after school and buys herself a cupcake; sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night to light a candle and sing happy birthday. When she lights the candle, the candle gets blown out. Every year after that first year, she gets candles that you have to turn on and off so that Luke can’t ruin the moment. 

(He ends up throwing the fake candle on the ground out of retaliation.)

Julie is so emotionally stable for the most part that the complete change is a shock to Ray. He tries to ask her what happened, but she always acts like nothing happened and then hides in her room for hours. Sometimes, she makes random little comments out of the blew and Ray has many conversations with Victoria on whether or not he should have Julie seeing Dr. Turner again. 

At her first solo concert, Julie walks into the dressing room to find “Stand Tall” written three times, in three different handwriting styles, in red, pink, and blue. The message in blue is the messiest by far, and is followed up with a heart. 

The name of Julie’s first album is Phantoms. 

[kurt-nightcrawler]

How to know if the lost girls have a crush on you

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐰𝐚𝐩! 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: mentions of drug use and language

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I know requests aren’t open jddndjdj but I enjoy writing for the lost girls so enjoy!!

Darcy

Darcy is a sucker for romance

She’s a bit shy and awkward, despite her semi-scary looking demeanor 

(She’s 6’0 and has resting bitch face)

Darcy isn’t going to be super obvious or up-front about her feelings at first though

It will be the cliche “we’ve been friends for 10 years and everyone knows we like each other except us” 

Darcy will always have a hand on you. She wants to feel your presence 

subtle touches, little “pinky holding” or her playing with strands of your hair

Her poking any freckles you have when she first discovers them

You’re one of the few people she let’s mess with her hair. Which is a telling sign

“Your hair looks nice Darce” “thanks, (Y/N) did it” “oh worm? 👀” 

She loves having you run your hands through her hair, it soothes her

Sometimes, if you can’t make it to the cave— bad weather, car trouble, etc.— shell come over and you guys watch a movie together

Darcy’s got an extensive tape collection of rom-coms, so she’ll pop one into the tv and snuggle under covers with you

She’s probably going to ask to borrow your clothes if she’s “really cold” since she exclusively wears sports bras and her leather jacket

Also she likes that your sweaters and sweatshirts smell like you 

But you’ll definitely have to have been friends for awhile before she even CONSIDERS telling you how she feels

“I live forever. I have to be sure about my feelings and what if I get rejected?” “Anyone who rejects you is stupid. Almost stupid as Michelle—“ “HEY!” 

But overtime she’ll try to make things more obvious— to the point where Pauline and Marcella are teasing you both and then she kind of HAS to come clean

But you find it sweet! 

And a bit shocking, someone as powerful and strong and amazing and gorgeous as her, has feelings for YOU??? damn okay babe 

Dominique 

Dom is going to be a bit cold at first

It’s not necessarily intentional, but she just has this aura of mystery around her

Those icy blue eyes that peer into your soul

And anyway she wants to get to know what you like and if you like her

If not, she can’t exactly force you 

Cough cough Michelle cough cough

 Anyway, Dominique will try to learn about the things you like so you have something to talk about

Even if they aren’t her cup of tea. She’s a good listener and likes seeing your face light up and you so passionate about a subject/hobby

Dom is going to steal buy you things she thinks you’d like

“You said you liked cherry chapstick. I got you some.” “I got you some chips and your favorite soda in case you’re hungry” “Here. I saw this giant care bear and thought of you.”

It’s sweet, but you feel a bit flustered and embarrassed, not giving her anything in return

“Seeing you smile is enough, Kitten”

Speaking of! Pet names! 

Dominique finds using your full/actual name too personal

So if you have a nickname she’ll use it. If not she’s given you pet names— most notable are Kitten and Pumpkin

She’s not big on physical touch but sometimes she’ll put the idea of it into your mind so you want it

She won’t manipulate you, but she wants you to come to her. She’s had too many bad experiences where she confessed first, and she doesn’t want another one

So when you do finally confess to her she’s all smug and knowing

“I um… I really like you… and uh well—“ “I know.” “Oh…” “I like you too.”  “Oh!”

 Marcella

She’s going to be playful and flirty with you but quick to deny anything the other girls accuse her of

“No I don’t have feelings for (Y/N)! Shut up!” “Haha you so do!”

She’s rowdy and high energy but also more quiet than Pauline

So she’s not going to just blurt it out or recite sonnets for you

Instead she’ll give you a patch she was going to put on her jacket. Or make you a cool little pin

She’ll constantly hype you up if you’re wanting to try new fashion styles or wear something out of your comfort zone

“You look amazing! Better than any girl out on the boardwalk” “You really think so?” “I would never lie to you. Honest.” 

She’ll let you braid her hair and stick all kinds of colorful little clips and barrettes in her curls 

(I know they weren’t popular until the 90s but imagining covering her hair in hundreds of little butterfly clips!) 

Honestly she’ll be like those movie scenes where “do you like it?” *it’s hideous* “if not you don’t have to wear it!” “No. I’m never taking it off.” 

She asks you to help care for her pigeons so you guys can bond together more

“Does Pauline or Sebastian usually help you feed them?” “No. No one does. I don’t let them.” “Oh…”

If someone upsets you she's ready to go and have them as her meal for the night

Sometimes you have to stop her

“Look! Cathy from my work is a total bitch but you can’t kill her! I won’t have anyone to cover my shift tomorrow”

“Fine… You're lucky I love you”

“What?”

“What?” 

She’d probably accidentally tell you and then act like she has no idea what you could be talking about

“Well I like you too. But I dunno… Dom’s pretty cute too—“ 

“Oh that’s it!” She’s definitely smothering you in little kisses and tickling you, getting you say you’re sorry and say you think she’s the cutest

 Pauline

She’s just going to blurt it out point blank. 

Why wait? If Pauline likes someone, she likes someone! She may be immortal but she’s also immortally impatient 

She tells you she likes you so much you start to think she’s kidding

But she’s not! 

She’ll bring you baked goods edibles and take you out to concerts and maybe steal your shoelace to wear on her wrist

Sometimes you’ll have little “sleepovers” and you’ll hangout at the cave. Usually this means sharing a joint and watching her play songs on her guitar

She’s definitely not exclusively playing romantic songs for you

One night she’ll get high and just pour her heart out to you

“And I think you’re one of the coolest people I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a lot of people, babe… And sure, I’m definitely a bit ditzy but I’m not completely stupid! I know you don’t believe me, but I really really like you! I think about you a lot and I hate when you have to leave right before the sun rises. And on nights you can’t hangout with us it’s so boring! We do the same things every night, but you always make them special. I really like you babe… I really really like you…”

She’ll wanna take you out on a little date to one of the small bands playing on the boardwalk and you’ll both dance together and she’ll be real giddy and excited and probably kiss you but it’s really messy and quick because she was just so wrapped up in the music! 

 Michelle

She’s really obvious

Like, staring at you with heart eyes when she first sees you out on the boardwalk

She’ll try to not-so-subtly follow you around. She’s not being creepy, but she just wants to admire your beauty 

She thinks she’ll never see you again

Imagine her surprise when she sees you again! 

“Told you! She probably lives around town” “Shut up Sam!” 

You’ll eventually confront her and ask what her deal is

“Oh! Uh, um, well, I just— I... like... your outfit?...” 

She’s bad at coming up with an alibi

“thanks. I get most of my clothes at the thrift store away from the boardwalk. Wanna join sometime?” “Uh yeah! Sounds good!” 

She’s going to do some dumb things to impress you— racing on her bike, getting more piercings, dressing in lots of leather, offering to buy you food— but you think it’s cute

She’ll follow you around like a lost puppy at times, partially cause she’s new in town

Sam likes you though!

When you and Michelle hangout, you’ve usally got the braincell and you don’t tease Sam for liking comics so much

“No Samantha, I’m not taking you to the comic shop” “Aww Sammy I will!” “Thanks (Y/N)! You’re the best”

Honestly you knew the whole time she liked you! You had moments of doubt but she’s always so obvious about it. Once you even swore she drooled over you

A bit gross, but you were also eating ice cream so…

Visiting her at work! She’s a lifeguard down at the beach! She’s definitely trying to get you visit her ;) and go swim and sunbathe ;) maybe have her “perform cpr” on you ;)

But you’d still have to make the first move if you wanted it to go any further 

 Sebastian 

He’s got this aura of mystery around him 

But he’ll steal glances if he spots you in the crowd, thinking you’re cute

The lost girls will want him to bring you back to the cave

He will, but not for awhile

It will be small one on one hangouts and dancing together on the boardwalk 

Walking in and out of shops, saying you’ll buy things but you never will

Sebastian will offer to pierce your ears and paint your nails 

Night swimming together! 

Sebastian definitely has really floral swim trunks, almost like tacky dad Hawaiian shirt print 

He’ll do the thing where he’s under water for a long time and then jump up and scare you

Once you meet the girls you’re all playing games together like sharks and minnows, chicken

Sebastian always wants to team up with you though. Even if teams aren’t a part of the game

He likes to read. He’ll spend a good amount of time at the bookstore on the boardwalk, staying there for hours reading books, and leaving with a whole stack

If YOU have a book he wants to read/borrow he will definitely maybe leave a little sticky note in it as a thank you

“thank you! ur sweet :D <3” 

Laura will love you!! 

She’s very close to Sebastian and everyone thinks they’re siblings, and they most definitely have the dynamic 

So if Laura likes you, Sebastian will definitely like you. I mean, he already does, Laura just kind of seals the deal, ya know?

Dominique and Pauline will be the most blunt about Sebastian’s feelings for you

“He’s like Darcy. Not necessarily the most obvious but you can tell” 

“It’s so obvious. He like, talks about you all the time when you aren’t around and he’s got this real love sick look in his eyes”

Dominique is going to interrogate you to see if you’re “worthy” or not of Sebastian. 

“Sebastian is my— our friend— like a brother almost. Hurt him and I will kill you :) that is a promise” 

Once she deems you good enough she’s going to push Seb into asking you out. “You guys already go on enough ‘dates’ just make it official” “no” “-_-“ “hhh fine”

Sebastian is going to be really simple with it but also kind of coy and shy. He’s nervous. He’s much rather you asked him out or confessed your feelings but he’s willing to go first. He finds himself trying to compete and keep up with the girls. He’s the only boy, and while it may not matter he doesn’t want to seem weak and pathetic while they’re big strong vampires

Anyway once he tells you how he feels he’s all red in the face and nervous!! Poor boy

He’ll constantly ask to kiss you all the time, worried maybe you don’t want him to but you’re always reassuring “yes, Seb. you can have a kiss” “thank you” 

[bisexualklausmikaelson]

and all the magic we made (13/20)

-

Love, they say, is as tragic as it gets. The pain he feels from letting her go tonight, is the same measure as the love he feels from getting to see her earlier. It’s made him a better man, this thing called love. It’s made him a father, a potential good one at that, or so he believes.

“Nik,” and just like that, all his relief and peacefulness is crushed.

Elijah Mikaelson opens the door to his hotel room, a big grin plastered on his lips and a glass of wine in hand.

Passed him, Klaus can see Rebekah and their eldest sister Freya, painting their nails while sitting on his bed. As Finn, their eldest brother as well as their youngest brother Henrik, sitting on the ground, playing video games.

There’s loud music, and laughter, and all the Mikaelson siblings stuffed together in one tiny room.

And it’s like it never was.

“You know,” Klaus chimes, walking passed Elijah and heading inside. “What I don’t get is,” he sighs, “why are all of you in my room when you sure as hell can afford to not only rent your own separate rooms, but buy this entire estate while you’re at it?”

Elijah simply smiles, shaking his head. “Well,” he says, “we could, rent our own rooms that is but, this is much more fun, isn’t it?”

Klaus sighs, his brother was clearly drunk, otherwise, he’d never use the word ‘fun’ so casually.

“Why are you all here anyway?” He wonders.

Elijah follows him inside, carefully closing the door behind him. “Kol invited us,” he sings. “He’s throwing a party, which calls for a sibling reunion, so it must be something important,” he informs Klaus - making him wonder what other surprises lie in store for him.

-

The invitation to Kol’s party travel’s throughout the town - from close family and friends, to even acquaintances, everyone seems to be hearing about this auspicious event.

Hayley Marshall looks through all her clothes - leather jackets, worn jeans, a revealing red dress or two…and that’s it.

She swears she must own something that is Mikaelson ball worthy.

And money is so tight this month that buying a new dress for herself, let alone for Hope, was almost impossible. Unless she gets lucky at the thrift store.

The thought of asking Marcel for help suddenly crosses her mind - he’s been there for her through it all. Through Hope’s terrible twos, last minute babysitting requests, even helping with late night laundry shifts.

She knows he feels strongly about her and spending more time with him might give him the wrong idea but, he’s her best friend. He’s the one she calls when she needs anything.

It’s so hard realizing that he can no longer be that person.

-

The theme is blue, pink and silver - blue for the way she looks when she finishes her favourite record and the emptiness that overcomes her. Pink for the way her cheeks tint when she sees a dog on the street. Silver for the small hints of it in her eyes - for that thin line down her back that shines in the light.

“C’mon Finn!” Kol exclaims, angrily glaring at the flower arrangements his older brother had just brought in. “I asked for carnations, these are begonias! Now everything is ruined!” He shouts, storming off.

Finn sighs, in disbelief. The dining hall Kol had rented out was large enough to accommodate half the town - and just everything from the satin table cloths, to the ice sculptured swans, heck, even the carefully written down name tags were just perfect.

But, Kol couldn’t see any of that.

Not when Freya was messing with the food table, again, and Rebekah was flirting with one of the waiters - Henrik being Henrik, was sneaking a peek at the cake and Klaus…was nowhere to be found.

“Brother,” he hears, as he stands outside the hall, exasperated.

“Elijah,” Kol said. “I can’t take another stressful situation so please, if this is about tonight’s event, do me a favour and -”

“It’s not about that,” Elijah confirms, which allows his brother to breathe easy for a moment. “Well, maybe a little bit,” he smirks, “I just want to know about…Davina.”

Kol bites his lip, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. “What about her?”

“Just,” he shakes his head, taking another long look at his dearest younger brother. How much he’s changed, how much he’s grown. “Are you sure about this?”

He shakes his head, leaning his back against the brick wall behind them. “Of course I am,” he tells him, “I wouldn’t do all this if I wasn’t.” He assures Elijah.

And, truthfully, that’s all the resolve he needs. Elijah may be the overprotective type but, the one thing he will always be sure of, is that he trusts his family.

He trusts Kol.

-

“Sparkly,” Marcel says - catching her as she’s stepping into her new shoes, Jimmy Choo Cinderella heels in rose gold.

“Thanks,” she shrugs, feelings so unlike herself. “Kol picked everything out.”

“Right,” he nods, “about that, do you know why Kol is throwing this party?”

“No idea,” she says. “Maybe he’s trying to impress you?”

“Me?”

“Well, you are like the closest thing I have to a parent,” she reminds him. “And he never got your approval while we were dating - ”

“My approval?” Marcel scoffs. “What era are we in? Davina, you’re an adult, you don’t need my approval,” he releases but, something tells him that he might end up eating his words by the end of the night.

It takes Davina a moment to notice Marcel’s get up - a fitted light grey suit, a red tie, gold cuffs.

“Do you have a date for tonight?” She wonders.

Marcel is caught off guard. “Why do you ask that?” He questions.

“I-I just,” she knows…she’s known for years.

He’s been in love and tonight, he was finally going to tell her.

Hayley Marshall was sure in for a long night.

-

His timing is impeccable - just when Hayley is about to call to cancel on her appearance tonight, there is a knock at her door.

She hears Hope running to it, and she swears, this child will be the end of her. She still hasn’t learned never to answer the door to strangers.

But, she had an instinct - she knows when her father is at the door. Even though she didn’t even know he is her father in the first place.

“Klaus!” She shouts, as he then places a finger in front of his lips, shushing her.

“I brought you and your mommy a present,” he simply says, “give to her for me, will you?” He requests as she nods and he makes his way back to his car before Hayley appears.

She only catches a glimpse of him as he leaves.

“Hope!” She shouts. “How many times have I told you not to -”

“Oh wow!” And, before her mother could even finish scolding her, Hope had already torn into the mysterious box and pulled out two gorgeous red gowns. “It’s dresses! And matching shoes and purses!”

She giggles, smiling widely from ear to ear - which, much to her mother’s dismay, allows her to put aside her anger for the time being.

Hayley admires Hope as she jumps around, trying on hew new slippers - holding the gown up against herself…she just looked so happy.

“They’re lovely,” she realizes. “We better hurry and get dressed up, Hope. Or we’re gunna be late.” She smiles.

-

“Hey Hayley, it’s Marcel - well, you already knew that. Anyway, so this Mikaelson party tonight is probably gunna a total eye roll. I was wondering if you, and Hope, wanted to make things a little more bearable tonight by being my dates? Let me know, call me back, please. I miss you.”

His breath is heavy as he puts down his phone.

Now all he has to do is wait - the anticipation might just kill him.

-

[kurohoely]

Hi. Is there any way we could get headcanons/or a story where the s/o that’s from America and her boy (mad dog/kuroo/Suga/daichi/hinata/kags) take her out for karaoke and she sings a country song and surprises them?

hello! thank you so much for requesting this TwT i can only imagine the chaos for these characters kskskss (i’m sorry i didn’t do mad dog idk him too well) i did it this with a twist so i hope you’re okay with this one :’D sorry it took me this long

haikyuu boys karaoke shenanigans with their s/o - kuroo, suga, daichi, hinata, kageyama

genre: crack but i highkey did soft fluff :’))

wc: 1k

a/n: all boys are in time skip hehe no proofread please enjoy!! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated :D

Hinata

After having a long distance relationship with Hinata, you both finally meet each other here in America

Poor baby was so jet lagged the first few days, so both of you just chill at your place before starting the road trip

You both drove to the long, mother road of Route 66

Just the two of you cruising in the sunset

Your shared playlist was on shuffle, then a classic old country song played

Hinata was confused why this song was here inside the playlist

Then he heard your voice

You tapped your fingers on the windowsill, following the rhythm

You sang along, hitting the notes perfectly

Hinata turned his head, looking at you in awe

He always knew the range of genre you listen to but somehow it slipped his mind that country is probably your childhood jam song

His eyes soften seeing you in this state

“If you really liked country songs you should put more into the playlist. I would love to hear it more”

Blushing cheeks, both of you and no it's not because of the sunset

This smooth ass sunshine

Kageyama

You both went out shopping at your favorite thrift store

Need a new spring jacket because why not

He practically followed you around the whole time because he’s afraid of getting lost (cue shiratorizawa bus scene)

Suddenly, a leather jacket caught Kageyama eyes

“This would look good on them”

He brings that leather jacket to you

When he approached you, you were karaokeing softly to the song played in-store

Kageyama has zero idea what song it is since it was the first time he heard it and it had come from you

But he enjoyed it nonetheless

Actually more to liking the part where he discovered something new about you today

You swayed your body left and right and when you turned around

“What the hell Tobio you can at least say hello”

“No it’s okay, I was enjoying the show. Here, thought this might look good on you”

You tried the jacket on and it fits perfectly

“After this, you wanna go to a real karaoke” he smirked

You punched his arms softly and both of you laughed

Suga

It has been so long since both of you went out and spend time together

Since you’re both tired of work, you want to let out some steam, having some random fun

You both went to downtown, seeing all the local trinkets shop that they have

Went to buy coffee, window shopping and tried some random Sephora make-up that you know you can never afford (but lets just imagine that Suga would buy it on your birthday)

While walking, you spot a coin karaoke

Gosh how long has it been that you went to karaoke?

“Hey love, do you wanna go karaoke with me?”

“Sure! I bet I can beat you”

You started off with your inner weeb by singing the classic, the OG - KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE

Suga, lowkey being a Swiftie - sang Love Story

Enough hype song, you both turned down the energy by singing blues and calming ones

You forgot that you put one old country song that your parent/guardian sang to you in the car when you were younger

Suga eyes went wide, confused

You picked up the mic and start singing

“Wow y/n I didn’t know you can SING sing”

We all know he sat and just hyping you up and throwing praises how talented his s/o is

After you finished singing, he pulled you into a hug

“Let’s stay together until we have no more surprises” and he kissed your forehead

i am truly soft for hypeman soft suga :””)

Daichi

It’s Friday night which means soft loving hours are open!

You were preparing some snacks and dinner for your movie marathon tonight

Daichi is gonna be a bit late so you have lots and lots of time to prepare

You put your apron and start cooking and blasted your songs on shuffle

Daichi pushed the door and let himself in

You didn't hear him because the music was too loud

Daichi was taken aback the fact that this is his first time hearing an American country music

And you were bopping to it wholeheartedly

Daichi is shooketh

While you were stirring the pot, he went and hugged you from behind

Almost needed to have a takeout for dinner

“I experience new things every day. How long will it take until I know everything about you?”

Blush, blush, more BLUSH

“Aww it’s okay Dai, we have lots more days to know about each other :)”

“Maybe next time we should actually bring you to karaoke and teach me some more of that genre”

Best. Cuddle. Night. Ever.

Kuroo

Today is game night

Kuroo just got back from celebrating their win for the season

Pretty drunk but sober enough to play some more fun with you

Thought that game would be hard for him to actually focus, you asked how bout a late night karaoke instead

Thank God this apartment is soundproof or else rip neighbors

He knows you’re from America and he wanted to be the coolest boyfriend ever by showing off that he knows his s/o in and out

Cute

He picked Whitney Houston’s song

Idk where he got it but okay

Pretty good pretty fair for some Tokyo city boi

You were fired up, can’t let this rooster head beat you in your own songs pfft

So you skipped to the next country song in queue

You were singing so passionately trying to rile up Kuroo

But he just sat there and was mesmerized by your vocal range

After singing, you turned your head wanting to tease him but met with his adoring face

But of course, knowing Kuroo he won’t tell you what he feels (just yet)

Sober enough to keep his pride

“Babe cut me some slack will ya? That's like me singing any Naruto OP because I’m Japanese!”

He pouts (PLITH SO CUTE)

“Awww bub at least now you know not to mess with me again haha”

He tackled you for cuddles

That day he swore to never gonna mess with you again (sike)

[sadsilktrader]

Secret Admirer

I apologize for my extreme tardiness for posting to the Geraskier Holiday Exchange. This was written for @gotfanfiction 

A modern Geraskier AU in which Jaskier is receiving gifts from an admirer.

...

"I'm telling you Yen, the man doesn't even know I exist. It can't be him," Jaskier paced the living room of his small apartment, small watering can in hand, completely forgotten. His plants looked on forlornly. 

"Hm," she replied, he could hear the scritch-scratch of the emery board while she only half-listened to his prattling. "All I'm saying is that he was there at the pub the night you played and he lives in your building and he can hear you when you practice and those have all been the nights you've got gifts from your secret admirer." 

"Half the building goes to that pub, it could be anyone! Plus, he doesn't even know I exist. " He flopped dramatically onto the couch, spilling water on himself. "Anyway, I'll let you go do whatever important business you have to do. You'll be here before my show on Saturday with Triss, right?" 

"We'll be there. We just have to drop Ciri off at her dad's first. Now promise me you'll at least talk to him next time you see him."

"Maybe." He grumbled.��

"What was that?"

"Fine, fine! I promise!" 

"You better. I'm tired of listening to you wistfully sigh every time we speak."

"You're the worst."

"I love you too Jaskier, bye." 

The phone clicked. 

He'd met Yen online, a friend of a friend of a friend. They played DnD together, starting off as catty enemies and somehow developing into the deep friendship they had now. She was a good person, just a little rough around the edges. Well, very rough around the edges. 

She'd settled down a lot over the last few years when motherhood had fallen into her lap though. He wasn’t certain about all the details, they were close but she was a private person. She shared custody of her adopted daughter, Ciri, with her ex. He'd never had the pleasure of meeting the man but he'd heard enough about him to form his own opinions. Heart in the right place but not exactly open about his feelings. 

Sounded a lot like his own mysterious love. He sighed again, there was no way it was his gorgeous and stoic upstairs neighbor. The man was gorgeous and kind and lovely. He was tall and pale with silky white hair. Not to mention outrageously muscular. Jaskier had seen him in their apartment's gym working out on more than one occasion. It had taken every ounce of his self-control to keep himself from openly ogling him. He'd seen him feeding the feral cat that lived in the parking lot. Helping their elderly neighbors with their groceries. Playing with his daughter on the weekends. The man was too good to be true. Which was why he was absolutely positive he couldn't be the one leaving the gifts at his door. 

The mystery man was perfect but he, Julian Alfred Pancratz, college drop out, jobless, barely squeezing by with the money he made by doing odd jobs in the apartment complex and occasionally performing at the neighborhood pub, was an absolute mess. There was no way someone like the man would give him more than a passing glance. 

He sat up quickly leaving the forgotten, spilled watering can to the side to search for his notebook and pen. At least all the angst and longing seemed to also be a fantastic inspiration. 

...

He chewed his lip, the leather-bound notebook balanced on his knee. He strummed a few chords on his guitar before setting it back carefully down to scribble something down. 

The sun was fully set now and his balcony light had flicked on giving the small area an ethereal glow. He loved the process of writing and creating outside where he could feel the world around him. There was something about feeling the gentle breeze against him, the sun and moon shining down on him, and the fluttering hummingbirds that visited his feeder that just felt right.  

He stretched and yawned and was contemplating packing up for the night when he heard it. A barely-there, soft knock at his door. Eyes gone wide he all but threw his things down and ran to the door to open it. No one. As always. There was however a small box tied in a ribbon and a note attached. 

A voice so sweet deserves something sweet in return. -love, your admirer 

He undid the ribbon and opened the box. Inside was an assortment of homemade chocolates. He popped one in his mouth and let it slowly melt over his tongue. Dark chocolate, caramel, sea salt. He couldn't help the sappy smile that plastered itself on his face and would stay there the rest of the night. 

It had been a little over a month since the gifts started arriving. Most of the time they were baked goods or sweets of some kind but occasionally it was something different.  A clutch of flowers, a silver bracelet with music notes engraved, once there was even a picture of a particularly beautiful sunrise left for him. He treasured them all. 

He was a hopeless romantic down to the core of his being. He had never met his admirer but he was sure it would be love at first sight.

…

He was bone tired. He'd spent the day hauling furniture away to the thrift store and painting the walls of one of his elderly neighbors who was soon moving to a rest home. For all the work he was paid thirty dollars and a batch of very good snickerdoodle cookies. He knew it was all the woman could afford to give him and he was grateful for that. Not exactly enough to pay the rent but enough to buy a few groceries at least. 

He stood in the deli section, weighing out the pros and cons of value pack meats when he saw him. The man, his white hair hanging loose around his shoulders, dark jeans, and a leather jacket. His breath hitched and his mouth went dry. 

Gods how can anyone look that attractive just going to the grocery store. 

The man looked up, catching him staring. His eyes the color of amber and honey. He felt like a deer in the headlights caught in his gaze. A few faint scars visible on his face and neck. He couldn't help but wonder if there were more on the rest of the man's body and felt a blush rise to his cheeks. 

"It's leaking." The man said.

"What?"

"The honey ham your holding, it's leaking."

He stared at the gorgeous being before him for a moment longer before it clicked. 

"Oh fuck," he dropped the squishy package on the ground, ham juices splashing on the both of them. 

"Oh, gods I'm so sorry," he wasn't sure his face could get any redder. 

"It's okay, really. I've had much worse things spilled on me before. You looked pretty lost in thought."

An employee glared at him with a mop and trash can. He smiled awkwardly, wishing he could just disappear. 

"You're the musician, right? I live in the apartment above yours. I can hear you playing from my living room." The way the man said it had him wondering if that was a good thing or not. 

"I'm Julian, well Jaskier to my friends and fans." He mustered up the courage he usually reserved for the stage and gave the man his best smile. 

"Geralt. I'd shake your hand but," He nodded to his arms full of groceries. "You know when you go into the store thinking you only need one thing?" 

"Well, you're in luck," he gestured to his cart, "I just so happen to have the best cart in the store. Not a squeaky wheel in sight." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Absolutely! The life of a musician leads to a very sparse diet. More than enough room for both of us. Plus we're headed to the same place." 

Geralt had an amused smirk on his face that made Jaskier's heart skip a beat. Conversation between them came easy. Geralt was the quieter of the two but his dry wit and cheesy jokes had him laughing harder than he had in ages. Handsome and funny. 

They made their way back to the apartment complex walking slower than was necessary, he noticed. 

"So you have a daughter? I'm not stalking you or anything, I just noticed her around the complex sometimes."

"Ciri," he replied. "My ex and I share custody, its-" he sighed, running his hand through his hair, "it's a bit of a complicated situation actually. But they’re moving closer soon and that should help.”

The elevator stopped at his floor and he stepped off. 

“So, I’ll be seeing you.” he mentally berated himself for not being able to come up with something more clever. The door was closing between them and he suddenly shot his hound out, stopping the door. 

“Actually, and please forgive me if this is too forward, maybe I could give you my number and we could grab a coffee sometime? Or do our grocery shopping together again?”

Geralt chuckled before reaching into his pocket, tapping at the screen a few times, and passed it over. He added his number with the name Jaskier followed by a heart and music note emoji. The moment the elevator door closed he was dancing, groceries in hand, for his forwardness paying off for once. 

…

It was colder tonight but he still played outside until his fingers were near numbing. His cheeks were flushed red from the cold. After his run-in with the man, he felt like he was walking on clouds. The world was at peace and he was the luckiest man in the world. He’d almost forgotten about his secret admirer completely until the same soft knock came from outside the door. Today was different though. Today he was brave and he had left a note for his admirer to find.

I beg of you to reveal yourself to me. I will be performing at the Royal Oak this Saturday. Please, wear this token so I may recognize you amongst the other patrons. Love, Jaskier

He strained his ears and purposely walked slowly to the door, giving his admirer time to leave the gift and find his note. He swore he heard mumbling of words. He closed his eyes and counted to ten before opening the door. 

His note was gone and in place of it a container he opened to reveal a miniature-sized three-layered cake elaborately decorated with chocolate-covered strawberries. It was, as always, delicious to the point of sin. 

He felt a twinge of guilt. He didn’t want to string along his admirer, especially if things with Geralt turned out well. But he was getting ahead of himself. They had spoken once and here he was already planning their life together. 

…

The next few days passed quickly. His wish of getting more work around the complex had come true but he was, unfortunately, unable to do any more practice for his upcoming performance. Every day he came back to his apartment with every intention of playing only to wake up from an unintentional five-hour nap on his couch. 

To make matters worse, he hadn’t received a single text from Geralt, and since his sleep schedule was completely messed up he hadn’t caught a single glimpse of him since their last accidental meeting. He thought of swinging by his place to invite him to his show but decided against it. Maybe he needed some space? Maybe he had come off as too clingy? The doubts and second-guesses were mounting.

He arrived at the pub early to set up and get some practicing in before going on stage. Geralt wouldn’t be there but at least, he hoped, his soon-not-to-be secret admirer would be. Inside the note, he’d left a silver brooch of a songbird in flight. It was small but something he would instantly recognize. The glimmer of it from the stage lights would catch his attention. At least that’s what he was hoping. He felt more nervous about this performance than he had in a long while.

“You okay there Jaskier?” The voice came from behind him and he turned to see Triss, her curls down, beautifully framing her face. 

“Oh thank the Gods,” he hugged her tight. 

“Where’s your better half?” he asked looking around the growing pub’s crowd. 

“Outside on the phone. It’s her ex, they don’t argue often but when they do,” she made a face. “Something about him needing her to watch their daughter.”

“Doesn’t he only see her on weekends? What an asshole.”

“Right?” 

He felt more at ease with a friendly face by his side and felt even better when Yennifer joined them. He was smarter than to ask her about the phone call and instead chatted about everything and anything to get his mind off his nerves. Time went by more quickly now and soon it was time for him to play. 

The second he stepped on stage his demeanor changed. Gone was any trace of nerves and doubt. The stage was his solace, the place he could bare his soul to the masses, or in this case to the forty-odd people crammed into the pub. 

It was halfway through his third song when he remembered to keep an eye out for his admirer. He scanned the crowd hoping for the familiar glint to catch his eye but there was nothing. He chewed his lip. 

The third song blended into his fourth and fifth. Still nothing. He took a break to grab a drink. He made small talk with Yennifer who raised a delicate brow at him. 

"Alright, spill it. What's got you so distracted?" 

He finished his drink and let his smile fall into a grimace. 

"I left a note. For my admirer. I asked them to come tonight. I left them something to wear so I would recognize them and-" 

"And they did show?" She finished for him. 

"Nope. Wait how did you know?" 

"First off you're terrible at hiding your emotions, and second I was fucking right and you owe me.”

“What?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I guess I’m partially to blame, I should have realized it earlier.”

“I- what?” he asked again. 

“Jaskier. Darling. Sweetheart. I was right.” she said the words slowly as one would do to a small dog. 

“Right about what?”

“Your admirer. It’s your neighbor. You never told me but let me guess. Pale, white hair, roguishly handsome, looks like he could snap you in half like a twig?”

“How do you?” He was feeling a little faint now like he was at the edge of realizing something terrible.

“Your neighbor, your admirer, and my ex are all the same person.”

His eyes went wide. It all made sense. All the clues were there but he had just been too dense to put them all together. He’d seen pictures of Yenifer’s daughter but he’d never spent more than a passing glance at Geralt's visiting daughter. 

“Oh fuck.” he sat down, suddenly unsure of his legs beneath him. 

“He called me right before I came in going on about needing to go out for a few hours and if it was alright with me if he left Ciri alone.” she chuckled. “I told him to not be an asshole and spend time with his daughter.”

Jaskier’s head perked up. Geralt had wanted to come. He hadn’t blown him off. 

“I have to go. Fuck, I can’t leave in the middle of a set though.” 

Yennifer waved him off, “I’ll sort things off here, you go to him.”

He kissed the top of her head and gave her a quick, tight hug. “You would tell me if this bothered you right? I mean, he’s your ex and all.” 

“I think you two would do a very good job at evening each other out, now go!” She smacked him on the shoulder and off he went. 

…

He ran home, or at least halfway home before running out of breath and proceeded to briskly walk the rest of the way. He was still trying to decide what to say when he found himself outside the door, sweating profusely and looking an absolute mess. He knocked on the door before he talked himself out of it. 

“One minute!” A voice from beyond the door answered followed by the sound of an oven door closing and the chain sliding from the door’s lock. 

The door opened. He looked beautiful, even like this, wearing an apron covered in flour cocoa powder. Especially like this maybe. 

“I’m friends with Yennifer and she said it was you but I didn’t believe her and I didn’t realize that your daughter Ciri was also her daughter Cirilla which in retrospect should have clued me in but-” he took a deep breath in. Geralt looked nervous and his rambling wasn’t happening. He started over. 

“You’re my secret admirer?”

The man blushed. “I am. Is that okay?”

“Very, very okay.” He smiled. 

“Would you like to come in? I was just baking. For you.” his blush deepened and Jaskier heart felt like it would burst with affection. 

“I’d like that very much.”

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 45 - Hey There, Little Time Traveler

Seattle Washington, December 24 1990

(Andi is 20, Chris is 26)

ANDI: Later on that evening, we arrive at Layne and Demri's for some Christmas drinks and maybe a bit of a jam session. I could tell that Chris just wanted to let lose and have fun after the whole confrontation with his father earlier, so what better way to spend Christmas eve than with friends that we both love an adore.

For as long as I've know Chris, I've never met his father. He just wasn't apart of the picture and he rarely -  if ever -  talked about him at all, and I never asked what happened between them. For Chris to react the way he did, there had to have been issues that are obviously not resolved and I for one, am not going to push anything on him. It's not my place to.

After Chris had stepped outside, Ed was asking me a few more questions about myself and how we met. I didn't tell him in great detail, I just told him that we met through a friend of ours and that we got married back in September. I figure I would leave out the whole time travelling part because that's a whole other conundrum of a topic I don't really care to discuss. I did get a little uncomfortable when he would try and explain what had happened with the family in the past. Again, it's not my place, and I started to get the feeling that maybe Ed was trying to downplay what happened during Chris's childhood and that he really wasn't that bad and that he wanted to make amends. That was when I excused myself to the kitchen and grabbed some pie and went outside. It just didn't feel right. There is no way that Chris would act that way if it didn't affect him and there is no way I'm going to try to convince my husband that his father - who I've only known for an hour - that he had the best intentions. No matter what I'm going to be on Chris's side and there's nothing and no one who can change that.

Right now, Chris and I are sitting in the living room of Layne and Demri's apartment, him leaning against me sipping his beer with his arm across my lap, listening to everyone's laughter. He looks so gorgeous with his curls pulled back, wearing his 90 logo baseball hat, his silver hoop earrings shining in the dim light of the living room.

"...man, just stay with me and Andi," Chris says to Jerry as he takes another sip of his beer, which surprised me for a moment and I glance at Chris with my eyebrow raised. I'll be honest, I was only half hearing the conversation between them as I sip my Jack and Coke, but that statement caught my attention quick.

"No I couldn't do that to you guys, I mean you two just got married..."

"Jerry it's cool... look you can't keep hopping from couch to couch, trust me, I've been there, it sucks," Chris says. He then takes another sip and Jerry glances at me as if to ask me if it's alright.

"Well, if Andi says it's ok?" Jerry says still giving me that look and Chris turns to look at me. Again, I wish I had actually heard the whole conversation but I couldn't say no that face.

"Yea... yea of course you can stay with us. As long as you need to," I say. I mean I wasn't against the idea and I love Jerry. I just wish we talked about it before Chris just offered it.

"Ok, thank you. Thank you guys," He smiles at us and Chris pats him on the shoulder.

"Wait - when were you sleeping on peoples couches?" I ask Chris taking a sip of my drink.

"Um... I was like, 17 or somethin',  just after I left home," Chris says. I furrow my brow for a moment trying to remember but it must have been when he didn't see me for a couple of years -for him anyways.

"Andi, come here, I need your opinion on something," Demri says and flashes me a wink while she nods towards the hallway where the bedrooms were.

"Um... ok?" I raise my eyebrow at her while she continues to nod gesturing to the hallway.

"You better go help her before she ends up getting stuck that way," Chris smirks and I roll my eyes at him with a giggle. I lean forward and set my glass on the coffee table. Just as I rise from the couch, I feel Chris playfully smack my ass which startles me and I turn to look down at him while he sips his beer. "What?" He adds with his eyebrows raised  - as if he didn't know why I was looking at him.

I say nothing as I pick up my glass from the coffee table, keeping my eyes on him so that he doesn't smack it again.

"It was looking at me, I swear. I couldn't help it," He chuckles with a shrug, then smiles at me.

"Uh huh, yea right," I smirk as I turn away from him taking a sip of my drink while I make my way around the coffee table. Walking over to Demri, I can hear the boys laughing but it's alright. Chris always gets a lot more playful when he's been drinking.

"So, what did you want my opinion on?" I ask once Demri leads me into her and Layne's bedroom.

"What do you think of this jacket?" Demri says as she moves over to the closet and pulls out a box to set it down on the bed. She then pulls out the contents, revealing a black leather moto jacket. "It's for Layne but I wanted to make sure it looked ok. What do you think?" She adds.

"Wow Dem it's cool... really cool. He's gonna love it," I smile as I take a sip of my drink, setting it down on the dresser and walk over to her. The jacket is gorgeous.

"You think? I mean I saved as much as I could to buy it. I tried to find one in some thrift stores but no luck, so I figured it's best to get a new one y'know, then it'll last like... forever - well almost forever," She giggles.

"Awe Dem no this is awesome, he's really gonna love it," I say as I examine the jacket. It even has that new leather smell. I love it and it's not even for me.

"What did you get Chris?" She leans into me and whispers though I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be able to hear us anyways.

"I feel bad cause it's not much but um... a pair of red Doc's and a Bauhaus record," I wince and Demri giggles.

"Awe, Andi," She says.

" - I know but we spent so much this year on the new house and the wedding, along with the European tour this summer that it sort of left us broke. I just... didn't want to disappoint him"

"Andi, you could never disappoint that boy, he's gonna love whatever you give him. Fuck... you know Chris has never cared about material stuff like that. You just bought him a guitar for his birthday, I'm pretty sure he's not gonna hold it against you if it's just a pair of boots and a record," She chuckles as she sets the jacket back in the box and turns to set it back down on the floor of the closet.

"Yea I know..." I trail off.

"Ugh I hate having to pee a thousand times an hour when I drink, I'll be right back" She says and I giggle as she walks quickly over to her dresser, takes the last sip of her drink and quickly heads out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom.  

While I wait for her, I take a look in her closet at all the different clothes she has. Demri has always sort of had a sixties love child vibe to her style that is the complete opposite of me and when we're together, you wouldn't think we would get along so well, but that just goes to show that you can't judge someone for how they look.  

Her and Xana always seemed to borrow each others clothes when they used to be close. Xana was always trying to push some of her style on me and though sometimes I really did like what she had but I always felt awkward and out of my element wearing flowy skirts and huge belled sleeves.  Like I always say, you'll have to pry my ripped up band shirts and leggings/jeans out of my cold dead hands before you could ever try and change me. I miss Xana sometimes. Don't ask me why, because she wasn't exactly the greatest friend to me. She did take advantage of me a lot but, she did introduce me to the love of my life so...

"I grabbed another bottle from the boys, here take a sip," Demri says as she comes back in the room breaking me out of my reverie. She holds out a bottle of Bushmills Irish Whiskey to me after she takes a sip. I gladly take the bottle from her and take a sip, feeling the warmth trickle down my throat.

Damn that's good.

I hand it back to her and she takes another sip and I can already feel my drunkeness take hold which is weird because I haven't had very much to drink at all. Oh well, the feeling is awesome regardless.

"Andi, you know you can borrow anything you see in there that you like," Demri says as she climbs up on the bed, crossing her legs and pushing her curls out of the way to take a drink from the bottle.

"Nah, it's ok. I mean you have really cute stuff, it's just not me though," I say and climb up on the bed with her sitting across from her as she passes me the bottle and I take another sip.

"Yea, I guess it would be a little weird to see you in this kind of shirt," She says gesturing to her flowy belled sleeves of her cream colored sixties style chiffon blouse crop top.  "You better stick to... um... what band is that?" she adds as she gestures to my tank top underneath my red plaid button up shirt.

"Sepultura," I say as I look down and pull at the shirt so she could see it more. 'It's the cover of their Beneath The Remains album"

"Oh ok," She says as I pass the bottle back to her and she takes another sip.

"Chris was actually the one who got me into them... go figure eh?" I giggle.

"Really? Chrissy is all about weird stuff but I didn't know he was into that," She says and passes the bottle back to me.

"Yea, I know right? He can go from playing The Beatles all day then he'll switch it up to thrash and death metal... sometimes even going from that right into some old blues records which I absolutely love. He's just all over the place sometimes, " I say and take a sip.

"And that's what makes him perfect for you - well obviously there's more than just that but - "

"I know what you mean," I laugh.

As Demri and I continue to hang out in her room, pretty much talking about anything and everything, laughing while we both take sips from the bottle, I was beginning to really feel myself progressively get more inebriated with each sip.

"... and that's how I ended up on the floor completely naked at the back of The Moore and everyone just freaking out, cause Chris was the only one to ever see me come back from a time slip..." I laugh while Demri just looks wide eyed at as she takes the bottle of Bushmills from her lips.

"Wait, ok so I know you time slip but I didn't know you're naked when it happens?" She says incredulously passing me the bottle.

"Well I don't start out that way if I can help it, I just... can't take any material that isn't me though time," I say in between taking a sip from the bottle. "That's why I got this tattoo on my finger as a wedding ring," I add, passing the bottle back to her.

"Oh yeah, let me see, I still haven't seen it all finished yet," She says taking a sip, then passing the bottle back over and taking my hand in hers to study it. "It's so cool, did you design it?"

"Well mostly Chris, but I kinda gave him the idea and he just went with it. Then we just went to a shop the day after the wedding and had it finished," I explain as she runs her finger over mine and I take another sip.

Suddenly the mood begins to change and though I'm feeling pretty drunk at this point, and need to use the bathroom, so I attempt to get up from sitting cross-legged on the bed and I suddenly trip with Demri reaching out for me.

"Oh shit, Andi! " She calls and I suddenly take her down with me and she's on top of me on the floor and we are just laughing our asses off.

"Well, there's all sorts of gravity in here," I laugh and she's laughing and before I knew it, whether it's just because I'm so drunk that I wasn't even paying attention to what was happening, or I completely just couldn't even think about what was going on, Demri was over top of me and her lips were suddenly on mine.

At first I wasn't really paying attention and by a knee jerk reaction I just responded. Why? I don't know. I sort of just got caught up in the moment. I had never kissed another girl before ever, and her lips feel so soft and different. Then after about a minute or so of her lips moving with mine, I quickly pull away and look up at her and she looks down at me and all I wanted to do was get to the bathroom as quickly as possible.

"Um, I really... really need to... um, I need to go to the bathroom-"

"Andi? Andi wait -," She says and I move myself away from her, get to my feet and although I was stumbling just a little, I was able to make it out of the room and down the hall.

I quickly open the door to the bathroom, flick on the light and close the door quickly behind me, leaning against it as I catch my reflection in the mirror above the sink. I slowly walk up to my reflection and to me I look alright, but I'm pretty sure you can tell that I'm pretty drunk at this point.

Fuck, I shouldn't have taken my meds before coming here.

Feeling slightly dizzy, I flip my curls out of my face and steady myself along the sink vanity, finally making it to sit down on the toilet seat. I close my eyes for a moment and take in a long deep breath, trying to steady myself.

Please don't slip, please, please don't slip.

"Andi? You ok?" I hear Demri call from the other side of the door, and I flick my eyes open.

"Yea, I think so... um... can you get Chris? I need Chris," I slur and close my eyes again. I hear her quietly say something and then a few moments later I hear footsteps walking down the hall.

"Babe?" I hear Chris' deep muffled voice on the other side of the door, but at this point the room was spinning so bad I couldn't lift myself from the toilet seat to open the door.

"In - in here," I slur as I hear the door open.

"Shit, you alright?" He asks.

"No," I manage to get out, though I keep my eyes closed.

"What happened babe?" He says and he kneels down in front of me.

"I don't know, I'm trying not to um... freak out, and slip," I slur.

"Babe - here look at me. What's wrong.... what happened?" He says so sweetly as I look at him and he cups my face in his palms.

"Too much... I think I took too much," I slur.

"Too much? Too much what? What did you take?" He asks, his voice rising as he tries to keep me focused but suddenly everything goes dark.

*****

CHRIS: "Whoa... so that's what happens when she slips?" Demri says with a bit of a slur standing in the doorway to the bathroom while I hold Andi's clothes in my hands.

"What happened?" I ask worriedly looking up at Demri.

"Nothing - "

"Dem, she was fine before she went with you in the bedroom... what happened?" I ask rising from kneeling in the bathroom floor.

"Nothing, I swear... we were just sipping some whiskey and having like... girl talk, that's all I swear" Demri says with those big eyes of worry and I realize I might be freaking her out. But I can't help it though, I can't help feeling this way every time she slips away from me.

"Fuck," I sigh as I pick up her clothes and move passed Demri and head back down the hall.

"Chris, hey... wait where are you going, what happened?" Layne asks as I head towards the front door with Andi's clothes in my arms and her boots, trying to grab my own jacket at the same time.

"Andi slipped," I say trying to be calm but I can't help but worry.

"Wait what?" Jerry asks sitting up on the couch in confusion.

"Is it because of me? I did it right? I made her slip," Demri says becoming upset as Layne walks over to her and takes her in his arms, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

"No, honey no, why would you think that?" Layne says sweetly to her while I fumble trying to get my jacket on.

"I was the one who made her slip," Demri starts to cry and Layne looks at me.

"What the fuck happened man?" He asks.

"I don't know, ask Dem," I retort, trying to zip up my jacket.

"I kissed her ok? Are you happy? I kissed her it just happened, I don't know why but I just did. I just..." She trails off and I slowly look back at her as Layne looks confused.

"What? What do you mean you kissed her?" Layne asks her

"I mean... ugh, ok we were just drinking in our room and just being silly, but then she said she had to use the washroom, so when she got up, she tripped and I tried to catch her but I fell down on top of her and we just kept laughing and then... I don't know I just kissed her. I don't know why, I just was caught up in the moment and it just happened. But I think I might have freaked her out or something. I didn't mean to freak her out. I didn't mean to make her time travel - time slip or whatever..." Demri says quickly and for some reason I found it sweet that she kissed her. I couldn't help but grin as she explain what happened. I thought I would feel jealous and angry but I actually don't.

"Are you mad?" She asks Layne and he just chuckles.

"No, baby I'm not mad. Surprised but I'm not mad," Layne smiles.

"Are you mad Chrissy?" Demri asks wiping a tear from her cheek.

"No, no Dem I'm not mad," I say quietly with a chuckle.

"Ok good cause I love her - well I mean I love you both and I wouldn't want you mad at me because of my impulsiveness," She giggles and Layne kisses her on her temple.

"No Dem it's ok, I'm not mad. I'm just... I never know what the fuck to do when she slips like this. If I should go home and wait, or... what," I say.

"Chris man, c'mon don't leave, she might come back here, you never know," Jerry says as he rises from the couch.

"But what if she doesn't and I'm here and she's somewhere where.. I don't know," I say.

"Do you know where she is right now?" Jerry asks me taking a sip of his beer.

"No," I sigh.

"Ok well just hang out, relax... she always comes back right?" Jerry asks.

And that's the question I always ask myself every time she leaves me.

[ollieofthebeholder]

TL;DR - I wonder if neurodivergent people prefer cold weather because we like the comfort of heavier clothes?

So I’ve been seeing a lot of posts (as is usual) from people who prefer hot weather vs. people who prefer cold weather, usually dunking on the other side for their preferences, and something’s started to occur to me. I have a theory that just popped into my head, and I wonder if it might be accurate or if I’m just overthinking things, and if there’s been any kind of study on it. I might look it up later if I could figure out where to start looking.

BUT. I wonder how many of us who prefer cold weather are neurodivergent?

Hear me out on this. I’ve got a lot of reasons for hating hot weather, and okay, even people who like WARM weather probably don’t like 100-degree, 150% humidity, fuck-all hot weather. Like, nobody likes that. But my preferred temperature is 64F or below - like, no joke, 64 is what my air conditioner is set for at night during the summer. I don’t just like cool weather or temperate weather, I like it cold. But it’s occurred to me that what I like about cold weather isn’t it being cold, or the way it stings your hands, or anything like that.

What I like is wearing sweatshirts and sweaters. Bundling up in a coat. Snuggling down under blankets. But I’m picky about my sweaters and sweatshirts, too. I tended to buy from the men’s section even before I knew I wasn’t cis, but I always told myself it was because women’s clothing was too thin, that it didn’t keep out the chill right. I bought men’s jeans, too, because I preferred the heavy denim, I just always assumed it was because I’m overweight and the lighter-weight denim wears out in between my thighs too quickly. But looking back on it now, I always preferred my clothes heavy. Same with my blankets. I can’t sleep under just a flat sheet. I have to have a heavy blanket on top of me, shoulders to toes, or I legit can’t sleep. I have a weighted blanket now that’s just long enough to cover me and some nights I have to fuss over it several times to keep my toes from poking out at the end.

It’s also why I haven’t bought a new coat in several years. I have a leather coat I bought at the thrift store some years ago, and I love it (it’s buried in my closet somewhere, but it also didn’t get cold enough this year that I really needed it, so I haven’t bothered trying to dig it out) because it’s heavy. Before that I had a black leather trench coat, also bought from the thrift store. The last coat I bought new was a ski jacket in middle school, because I was, well, going on a ski trip. Mom thought I wouldn’t like the one I picked out because it was a) black and b) heavier than all the other ones for sale, but I wore that thing out. I haven’t bought a new coat because I’ll pick them up and they weigh, like, six ounces and I just go “no thank you” and put them back.

Heck, I don’t even like jewelry that doesn’t have weight to it. If a pendant isn’t a substantial chunk of metal or stone, I put it back. I like the solid feel of it resting against my chest. I even prefer heavy earrings to the lighter ones.

I have anxiety. I probably have either ADHD or autism, neither of which I’ve ever been diagnosed with. I have always slept under heavy blankets and with a fan going (I need the white noise - wore out two white noise generators in college). It’s just always been a thing for me and I never noticed it until recently, when I started learning about weighted blankets and swaddling and the like and went “oh, that explains so much!”

So...yeah. I wonder if they’re related?

[suncityblues]

Bad Luck and Sunshine

Part 1/5 - SPN - 3k words 

read on AO3

He can fit all his worldly possessions on the passenger seat of his car.

Car keys, red bic lighter, a toothbrush in a ziplock bag. Cellphone, charger, brown faux leather wallet. A maxed out credit card with the name James Ledbetter on it, and a fake ID to match the card. Fourteen American dollars, one Canadian quarter, a Blimpie’s buy-one-get-one coupon.

A pen with the name of a bank on it, a tin of salt. A paperback with a four leaf clover carefully pressed into the pages between the title and the acknowledgments, and that’s it.

Castiel taps the book in the spot where the clover is pressed. He can feel the slight bump of it.  

“They’re supposed to be good luck,” Dean had told him with a shrug when Cas asked why he was rooting around in the grass that day. Dean had handed Cas the book with the clover inside and said, “I used to search for them sometimes when I was a kid. It’s dumb but, hey, I figure we could use all the luck we can get.” Dean had smiled softly then, a bit sheepish. The tips of his ears had gone red.

Back then the world had been ending, so Cas supposed Dean was right, they could use luck.

He remembers trying to be encouraging, saying something about the placebo effect that made Dean roll his eyes and laugh at the same time. He can’t quite recall the specifics of it anymore.

A while later he had reached out to the clover with his grace and found nothing particularly special about it, but kept it and the book anyway. He reaches out again, now, with what little of his power he has left. It’s still just as lucky as any other dead plant.

He takes stock of his possessions again, focusing in particular on the fourteen American dollars and the one Canadian quarter. He checks how much gas he has left in his car and it’s not much. If he keeps going he’ll have to choose between food and gas, just to run out of it again anyway.

He needs to eat sometimes now, and drink water. He needs a shower and a bed if he can get them. Clothes, shoes, soap, toothpaste. All of it costs money, and to get money you have to trade time. Castiel has always found that a little ridiculous but it’s not like he makes the rules anymore.

He’s been pulled over in a dark parking lot in a truck stop town called Laurel for a while now thinking about what to do. Sam and Dean had set him up with the card and the fake ID before he left and Cas doesn’t want to ask them for any more help. He decides Laurel is as good a place as any other to get stuck in.

It’s 9:52 on a Tuesday.

++

A day and a half later Castiel is once again employed at a gas station. He’d tried a diner, a vegetable canning factory, a hardware store, and a rundown CVS but the gas station is the first place that got back to him. They were short staffed after someone named Ricky had walked out, and desperately needed a replacement. Kendra, the manager, had said “it’s like you were sent by an angel!” When she read through his mostly fictional work history. It had made Cas laugh.

This one is called Sunshine Gas and Go. They have to wear ugly yellow polo shirts that say “Let me know how I can help make your day sunny!” On the back. They keep the beer on the left side of the cooler bank instead of the right and the jerky next to the self-serve coffee but aside from that it’s remarkably similar to a Gas-N-Sip.

He wonders bleakly if he should have been the patron of gas stations while he had the ability.

The angel of Thursday, the angel of gas stations, that’s Cas. The guardian of the spaces you have to pass through on your way to better days, better places.

He sometimes wonders how Nora’s doing; if her kid’s okay.

++

It takes Sam and Dean five weeks to cave and check in on him. Cas has been in Laurel for the last three.

They pretend to be on their way back from a hunt, a totally routine salt and burn, and just so happen to be refueling at that particular gas station in this particular truck stop, exactly fifteen minutes after his coworker leaves Cas alone to cover the overnight shift. It’s an obvious and flimsy excuse to make sure he’s okay, but he’s known them long enough to understand that obviousness and flimsy excuses to see one another are gestures of affection in the Winchester family. He finds it somewhat exhausting to witness, and even more so to experience but he doesn’t call them out on it.  

He does, however, make pointed eye contact with Sam who waves his hands in a placating gesture behind Dean’s back and excuses himself to go stare at the overpriced air fresheners on the other side of the store. He had hoped Sam, at least, would have had the sense to text first.

On the counter next to the cash register there’s a plastic bin with a picture of a bald child in a hospital bed taped to it and some loose change inside. Dean picks the can up, looks inside it, shakes it a bit, puts it down. It’s mostly empty.

“You’d think people’d be a little more generous, what with the cancer kid at stake and all,” he says. When Cas doesn’t immediately reply Dean continues, “Or is this one of those, uh, charity scams? You know, where the evil mega corporation asks you to pretty please donate so they can use it as a tax write off?”

Castiel shrugs, he doesn’t know what the Sunshine Gas and Go does with the money. Says: “I’m not sure, Dean.”

He pretends not to see Dean stick some gum from the display under the counter into his coat pocket. He’s watched Dean do this before to other casheers, leaning close to flirt and making off with what he can. Cas supposes old habits die hard. The gum is sugar free cinnamon.

Dean sees him pretending not to see. He smiles big and bright, his nose does a little crinkle that Cas always liked. The term “shit eating grin” comes to mind, Cas must have heard it somewhere, probably about Dean that time too. He rolls his eyes and says, “How was your hunt? Were you or Sam hurt at all?” He can’t do much besides heal minor cuts and bruises these days, but for the Winchesters he’d still offer what he can.

Dean waves him off, “Fine, fine, got shoved around a bit but it’s nothing a cold compress and a good night’s sleep can’t fix.”

“Speaking of,” Dean segues in a breezyl tone Castiel knows is dangerous territory, “Where are you sleeping these days? You gotta sleep now right?”

The ghost of Rexford sits heavy between them, though it’s been years since then. Cas realizes being back at a gas station might have caught Dean off guard, or felt like some kind of dig at him. He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s just bad luck, and he’s not sure Dean would believe him if he did.

This time around he’s not squatting in the back room with the cleaning chemicals but he is sleeping in his car, just until he has enough money for a place to stay or decides to hit the road again. He knows that’s not anything Dean wants to hear.

“Yes, Dean, I need to sleep” he answers, then pauses. He considers lying but it never works out when he does, and this isn’t life or death; just embarrassing.

Besides, Sam and Dean are observant and thorough even during a glorified social visit, so Cas figures they’d put two and two together as soon as they walked in the door. There’s no way they hadn’t clocked his too-big thrift store jeans under the uniform shirt, or the circles under his eyes. The way his beard is a little patchy from shaving in the bathroom mirror in the truck stop visitor center. It’s likely they’d found his car in it’s discreet parking space at the edge of the lot before coming into the Sunshine Gas and Go.

Cas tries tactful honesty: “I’m saving up.”

And it’s true, he is, though he’s not sure what he’s saving up for. But every Friday he gets a paycheck and brings it to the check cashing place in town. After the fee, and groceries, and little necessities he carefully stores what little he has left in the locked glove compartment of his car, under the book with the clover in it.

Dean’s lips press flat together. He stops leaning over the counter and stands at his full height. He makes an aborted head shaking gesture. He speaks like there’s an awful taste in his mouth.

“So,” he says, slightly too loudly to pay it off as cool. Out of the corner of his eye Castiel sees Sam’s head wip towards them, no longer pretending he’s not eavesdropping.

“So, ah—“ Dean repeats, “you’re gonna, what? Drift around? Lay low in some podunk shit hole for the rest of your life?“ he stops, puts his hands on the counter to steady himself, or to keep from reaching over and grabbing him, Cas isn’t sure. A beat.

“You know what?” Dean says, “Nevermind.”

Cas deflates. He knows Dean disagrees with him leaving so soon after becoming human again, and feels guilty about so many things it’s hard for Cas to keep track of them all, but he knows he couldn’t stay either. Just like lying to the Winchesters, it never works out in the end. With almost no power, he’s no help to anyone, not Sam and Dean, not heaven, not even himself. It hurts to think about but maybe that’s just part of being human.

“Dean—“ he starts to say but he’s cut off.

“Don’t worry about it, man” Dean says, he taps the counter twice with his knuckles, “nice place you got here. I’m glad you’re doing alright.”

Dean swallows and abruptly turns to leave, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. Cas watches him go until Sam comes to the counter with two bottles of water, a coffee, and an energy bar.

He puts a twenty down, says apologetically, “For this stuff and whatever Dean stole on his way out.”

“Gum,” Cas supplies, and slides the twenty back towards Sam. “Don’t worry about it,” he says.

The cameras don’t work inside the store, and according to Joanna, the only reason they’re still up at all is to deter would-be armed robbers. Castiel watches less deserving people steal from them all the time, so it doesn’t seem worth it to take Sam’s money.

Sam shakes his head and gives him a flat smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He takes his things but leaves the twenty. Says, “See you around, Cas.” He pauses for a moment, and seems to debate something with himself. Then: “Check in sometimes if you can, okay? You know how Dean can be when he gets worried.”

Castiel knows. He waves to Sam as he walks off into the dark.  

Cas checks the gum display, then manually rings up the items Sam bought. He puts the change into the plastic jar with the kid in the hospital bed on it.

++

A few days later a woman comes in with a ghost behind her. Cas checks the time to keep from gaping. 11:27 AM.

The ghost is a man, perhaps in his mid forties. Too young to be dead, but Cas supposes most people feel that way when they die, no matter how old. When the woman comes to the counter and gives him thirty dollars to put on pump six he sees a wedding ring on a chain around her neck. He puts two and two together.

“That’s a lovely necklace” he says, he looks directly at the ghost when he says it. They make eye contact. The ghost does a sharp inhale for a moment and the lights flicker. The ghost disappears.

Cas frowns, “Sorry about that. It happens all the time,” he lies. He wonders if he could purify the ghost with what powers he has left, that way she wouldn’t have to burn her wedding ring.

The woman seems caught off guard, then smiles politely.

“No worries, it happens all the time at my house too. Must be a faulty power grid in this town or something, my kids swear it’s a ghost or something,” she says.

There’s an apprehensive edge to her voice then, hastily: “have a good one.”

“You too,” Cas says. He thinks about following her out, trying to explain. He thinks about texting Sam and Dean.

The slushie machine makes a mechanical crunching sound and suddenly there’s red goop all over the ground.

Joanna starts yelling and runs for the mop. He goes to unplug the machine and gets sticky pink syrup all over his last clean pair of pants. The ghost slips his mind.

++

Two days later Dean shows up by himself. It’s 6:43 in the morning on a Tuesday.

Cas has been finished with work for fifteen minutes already but there’s a rush at the end of his shift so he says on to help Javier and Kendra out. It’s mostly people stopping for gas on their way to work, or truckers picking up breakfast before heading back on the road. He doesn’t mind sticking around in the mornings, everyone’s usually too tired to be angry and it’s a nice break from the drunks and the sad eyed kids he usually meets on overnights. The extra money doesn’t hurt, either.

Cas doesn’t notice Dean until he’s placing two coffees on the counter in front of them.

His first words are a surprised, “Oh, hello Dean. Where’s Sam?” Which makes Dean huff, and shift from one foot to the other.

“Not here,” he says, then points at the coffee closest to Cas, “That one’s for you. Milk, no sugar still, right?” Cas nods. He knows this is Dean Speak for an apology. He can feel Javier and Kendra look over at them from behind the other register and the cigarette display, respectively.

Dean smiles, all charm but Cas can tell his face looks a little more drawn than usual, like he’d been driving for too long without a break, “You get off work soon?”

Kendra answers for him, “Yes, he does.” She has a maternal look on her face when Cas turns to her. Javier rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“Shoo,” she says, with a smile. She points at the slogan on his uniform shirt, “Go have a sunny day, James.”

Dean nods, “Yeah, James. Have a sunny day.” There’s that smile again.

Cas closes out his register and gets his coat from the back room. Dean’s waiting for him outside, drinking his coffee and leaning against the Impala. The lighting is the soft grey-blue of the morning, and it feels nice compared to the white fluorescents of the store.

Before Cas can say anything Dean scrubs at the back of his neck, then says, “This coffee tastes like piss. Let’s get breakfast.”

++

There’re a few diners in town but Cas has never been to any of them. Dean picks one on a whim, because the sign has a 1950’s pinup girl in a skimpy waitress uniform.

It’s warm inside and smells nice, like syrup and strong coffee. Dean orders something called The Lumberjack Platter and when Cas tells the waitress, “Just coffee, thanks” Dean overrides it and orders him scrambled eggs with a side of sausage and toast.

“My treat,” Dean says. Cas shakes his head but doesn’t fight him on it.

Dean avoids talking about anything personal. Instead they mostly chat about the case Sam and Dean are currently working on. Apparently they’ve hit a wall with the research and Sam’s been holed up at the bunker for days pouring over blueprints and hacked security footage. There’s a cursed object in a locked bank vault in Little Rock that’s making people have violent outbursts. The questions are: why did it start acting up now, which lock box it’s in, and how to get to it.

Cas wishes he could still fly, then at least he’d be able to solve two of their problems. He runs the idea of trying to find a spell to make the object useless by Dean and Dean types it into his phone to send to Sam. A moment later it lights up with a call but Dean mutes it and sticks the phone back in his pocket.

Dean changes subjects and tells him about the latest Dr. Sexy storyline, about a vampire nest he took out a few years back, about running into Garth in Topeka. Cas talks about the gas station a bit but mostly just listens. He always likes listening to Dean talk.

++

When they leave the diner and get back into the Impala, Cas realizes this is the first time he’s enjoyed himself in a long while. He smiles over at Dean, expecting to be asked where he’d like to be dropped off. He’s thinking about the park by the river on the far side of town, it’s a long walk back to the truck stop but he likes to watch the  trees shift in the wind and the fresh air there is a nice change from diesel fumes. Instead Dean says, “You still don’t got a place to stay right?”

Cas nods cautiously. He puts his hand on Dean’s upper arm and, not willing to let the day go south, says sternly, “I assure you Dean, while I’m not strictly an angel anymore I still don’t need nearly as much rest as you or Sam do…”

Dean nods at the steering wheel, his jaw moving. Cas can tell he’s also trying to not turn this into a fight.

Dean shifts towards him, Cas keeps his hand firmly on Dean’s arm. The energy in the car changes and suddenly Cas realizes where this is going. Dean puts one hand on his waist and the other comes to rest on Cas’ neck behind his ear. Cas breathes in sharply.

“Dean,” he says, then he broaches the subject he’d been painstakingly avoiding all morning: “Why did you come here today?”

Dean blushes and goes still for a moment, he swallows but doesn’t say anything. After a moment tugs him in gently and Cas takes pity on him. Dean tastes like maple syrup.

It’d been a while since they’d done this, but they fall back into it easily. After a few moments of kissing Dean pulls back. Their foreheads and noses are still touching and they’re breathing hard.

“What I was trying to say was, uh,” his ears get red at the tips, “that I got a room at that Budget Motel by the gas station.”

All Cas can think of to reply is, “Oh, I’d like to see it.”

It makes Dean laugh and wiggle his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah wanna come up and see my art collection?” He says. Cas doesn’t know what he’s talking about but he likes that Dean keeps his hand on his thigh while they drive.

++

By the time Cas wakes up for his next shift Dean is gone. There’s a text on his phone that says Sam finally had his breakthrough based on something Cas had said. Then a second one that tells Cas the room is paid through till the end of the week. He can stay in it or not, doesn’t matter to Dean one way or the other. A third one that just says: Thanks.

Cas lays in bed for a moment enjoying the soft sheets and suddenly remembers the ghost.

++++++++++

Thanks for reading :)

[snowflake-of-destruction]

For the drabble challenge: 114 and/or 43?

Got sidetracked but here is 43. Pick up lines only work when I’m drunk. Maybe I’ll do a sequel that contains why Roxas is upset for 114 once I decide what the reason is Onward!

Roxas could have been charitably said to be broodily nursing his drink, but to say he was watching the tracks of condensation and mentally taking bets on which bead would win and the intense concentration this took gave him a moody air that fit with the personality some expected of him was closer to the truth. So it was up for debate as to whether the tall redhead with the lip ring (obviously new, judging by the way he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself from darting the tip of his tongue out every so often and flicking the hoop) and the leather jacket so weathered it either said ‘interesting life” or “I found this in the back of a thrift store” was foolishly overconfident or paying attention to signs more closely than those who thought the blond wanted to be left alone when he took the stool next to Roxas, leaned over into his personal space and asked, “Did you just cast aeroga?”

Roxas’s unwavering fixed focus on the glass in front of him was too steady to be anything but purposeful. It said he was fighting the natural instinct to look toward the source of noise, not just lost in thought. His deep sigh of breath was exaggerated enough and his shirt tight enough that the expanding of his ribcage and following exasperated exhale was easy to track. 

“What?” His elf ears twitched. That was a fun detail. Axel liked the bodies Donald had conjured for them for blending in on New Mushroomton. Even if Roxas disagreed, he should admit it could have been much worse. They could have been pixies. One of them could have been a mermaid, leaving the other to haul around a kiddie pool and keep casting waterza. They were both the same species too. That was a win, even if the rest of their mission had gone a little off track. The kind of off track that had Roxas deciding to give up completely and go stomping off, muttering about how at least they had bars here, and Axel running after him, apologizing because he really thought they would get a lead in that pixie piercing parlor, and then deciding to give him a bit to cool off before following.

It wasn’t the mission that had Roxas disgruntled though. He’d been blue since they landed. Pun intended.

“Did you just cast aeroga?” Axel repeated, making an attempt to wiggle his ears like Roxas had. “Because you swept me off my feet.”

“Axel,” Roxas all but growled in warning.

“Are you a keyblade? You look like you could pierce my chest and complete me again.”

“Bad taste.” Roxas still wouldn’t look up, but Axel was pretty sure he could interpret the way Roxas had pressed his lips together more tightly when he’d been listening to Axel speak as an attempt not to smile, and the growl could have also been a disguised laugh..

“No, bad taste would have been asking if I look like your Somebody, because I’ve heard your purpose is to get inside me so we can both feel complete.”

“Axel!” Roxas’s head snapped up and Axel counted it as his victory, even if the wide blue eyes were admonishing.

He could not be blamed then for enthusiastically continuing on the same track that had produced results before. “You have mastered the Power of Waking my…”

“That’s enough!” Roxas was near manic in his attempt to cut Axel off before he completed the sentence. Last shred of their combined dignity saved, he continued more calmly. “Pick up lines only work when I’m drunk.”

“Let’s work on getting you drunk then,” Axel flagged the bartender, not bothering to call out that what Roxas had said wasn’t strictly true. He loved bad pick up line competitions usually. Though, admittedly, it was less fun when they didn’t have Riku there with them, stuck with the impossible choice between sinking to his friends’ level and admitting last place. 

“They won’t serve me,” Roxas mumbled through his hair as he ducked his head back down. “That’s why I just have a soda. I have no ID.”

“...And you’re so short they think you’re a child,” Axel hemmed sympathetically, trying very hard not to laugh. Saying anything at all was a mistake, and Roxas’s quick glare corrected him for it. He wasn’t much chastened though. “I’ll buy you a drink if you admit you’re thirsty.” he rolled the words around on his tongue to make them come out filthy, hoping to see Roxas’s elf face turn from sky to royal blue.

“I’ll rip out your lip ring.”

“I could be into pain if you’re the one dishing it out.”

A hard, well timed shove, had Axel struggling not to fall off his barstool, but, while Roxas was still a shade off from a robin’s egg, he was starting to look less blue, and that was all he wanted.