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munson-blurbs · 3 months

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: You once again found yourself face-to-face with Eddie not even twenty-four hours after he checked into the motel, and your interactions left you with more questions than answers. (3.8k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, grumpy Eddie, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter two: here today

Bzzzzzz!

Your alarm clock blared its tinny ring at 1 PM. The sun was bright, a welcome change from yesterday’s overcast skies and steady rainfall.

You stretched as you awoke before shedding your oversized shirt and shorts, padding over to the shower and waiting a full five minutes for the cold water to turn lukewarm. The thinning bar of soap formed sad suds in your palm, and you lathered your skin as best as you could.

Despite your best efforts, you kept thinking about your encounter last night—that morning, really—with Eddie Munson. There was a cocky edge to him, evident by his initial refusal to put out his joint, but at least a shred of humanity; after all, he did eventually comply. There was even a semblance of…something that’d you’d shared in your brief interaction.

Or maybe it was just your imagination, the summation of your exhaustion and his high.

The towel scratched as you dried the water droplets from your bare skin, and though the cloth dampened, you could have sworn that it wasn’t wicking any moisture. Dad had been saying for years that he’ll invest in new linens “as soon as business picks up.” But business never picked up enough to do anything more than barely break even for the year, so the ancient towels stayed.

Picking the lint off of your purple T-shirt, you tucked it into your jeans and shoved your feet into your sneakers without bothering to unlace them first. One look in the mirror determined that you definitely needed makeup to look half-decent, or at least awake. There was no earthly way you would sacrifice a minute of precious sleep, so you swiped on some mascara in favor of an intricate routine and quickly fixed your hair.

You plucked a granola bar from the stash on your dresser: your usual breakfast, tossed into your backpack as you headed out the door towards the lobby. The bus would be arriving in about five minutes, giving you just enough time to get to the stop before the doors closed. Barring any traffic, it followed a consistent schedule; one of the few certainties in life.

“Hi Dad; bye Dad,” you called out, stopping in your tracks when you saw an obviously irritated Eddie standing in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot anxiously tapping. At least he was fully dressed this time, clad in a faded band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same denim jacket he was wearing last night when he’d first walked in. “Everything okay?”

Dad motioned to Eddie. “Our guest is having some issues with his TV,” he said, his raised eyebrows indicating that the guest was being quite persistent about the matter. “Can you help him?” Before you could answer, he looked at Eddie and explained, “my daughter’s better with this technology stuff than I am.”

There was a temptation to argue that it was probably just a matter of smacking the side or replacing the remote batteries, but you didn’t have time to waste. “Yeah, sure,” you relented, turning to Eddie and waving him over. “Come on.”

Eddie waited to speak until the two of you were completely alone. “That was your dad?”

You nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets and keeping your walking pace until you reached his room.

“So what’s the problem?” you asked as he turned the key in the lock. It stuck for a moment before it fully unlatched, and he opened the door with a shove.

“The reception’s shit,” Eddie muttered, keeping his fingers splayed on the door so you could walk in first. “Every time I try to put on MTV, it’s all static. Tried it last night, too, but I figured it was because of the storm.” He gestured to the now-sunny skies. “But that shouldn’t be affecting it anymore.”

You offered a wry smile, the way you always did when delivering bad news to a guest. “Nothing’s wrong with the reception,” you explained, “there’s just no cable.”

“What?” His brows shot up in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s simple.” You shrugged. “Cable costs money, we don’t have money; ergo, no cable.”

Eddie raked a hand through his messy curls. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His feet could have worn holes in the floor with the way he was pacing. “Where can I watch MTV around here? Like, is there a bar or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s one right down the—” You turned to the window but stopped mid-sentence, your stomach sinking as you watched your bus fly past. You heaved a dejected sigh as tears prickled at your eyes embarrassingly, and you blinked them away.

It’s okay; I haven’t been late at all this semester, you silently reminded yourself. You could take one of the dollar cabs that runs up and down Jamaica Avenue. It wouldn’t get you exactly where you needed to go, but it would be close enough.

Eddie remained oblivious to your inner turmoil, eyes trained on the TV. “Fuck,” he grumbled, sucking through his teeth.

“The clock radio plays music,” you offered as you hiked your backpack higher up on your shoulder. “I know it’s not the same as watching videos, but–”

“It’s not about the stupid videos!” he snapped, curling his palm into a tight fist and biting down on his forefinger knuckle. Dark eyes exuded distress, and you couldn’t help but think that his sheer panic mismatched the problem’s minimal severity.

You recoiled at his sudden outburst and took an instinctive step back. He noticed this, his expression instantly softening. His hand unfurled and fell to his side.

“Shit, I–”

“I’m gonna be late to class.” You composed yourself, straightening your posture and forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But the bar is right on 144th and 89th.”

He sputtered as he searched for the right words to apologize and explain himself. If you had time, you’d wait for him to unscramble his thoughts, but you were already behind schedule now that your bus was long gone.

You strode across campus like you were on a mission, feet flying over the pavement. The cab had left you at another bus stop closer to school, and that bus had thankfully arrived on schedule. At this rate, you would only be ten minutes late to class.

Sweat trickled down your back from midday sun’s warmth and your fast pace, but you kept walking until you reached the lecture hall’s double doors. This class was a smaller one, only twenty or so students, so there was no sneaking in unnoticed.

You shot your professor an apologetic look that she accepted with a polite nod, sliding into your usual seat next to your friend Nora.

“Is everything okay?” Nora whispered, moving her own bag from the chair. The concern on her face was palpable; if you weren’t able to make it to class, you would have called her.

“Yeah, just stuff at the motel going haywire as usual,” you reassured her with a small smile, digging out your notebook and a pen. You flipped to the first blank page and scribbled today’s date next to the right-hand margin. “What did I miss?”

Nora shook her head as if to say, nothing. “She just gave back last week’s homework. I grabbed yours, too.” She handed you a sheet of paper with a bright red A+ on top. “I figured if something had happened to you, you could be buried with your most recent perfect paper.”

She winked, and you rolled your eyes to mask your burgeoning pride.

Truthfully, you’d worked hard on the assignment. You might have already been accepted to graduate school, but NYU’s prestige didn’t come without a hefty price tag, and you still needed to apply for scholarships in order to afford it.

Now was not the time to slack.

You tried to pay attention to the lecture, but your mind constantly drifted to the way Eddie had behaved in his room, having a meltdown like an overtired toddler. The man who had lost his temper over a television channel was starkly different from the one who had readily swapped playful jabs with you the night prior.

Maybe whatever buzz he’d managed to acquire before you’d interrupted him had made him uncharacteristically pleasant, and today’s outburst was indicative of his true self.

You bit the inside of your cheek and willed yourself to focus on the case study being presented on the board rather than your own personal Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the mystery that was Eddie Munson. Guests had had their choice words with you before—there was a reason why you had pepper spray at the ready—but this felt different. When most guests screamed like he had, they were specifically angry at you; it was the reaction you had expected when you’d told Eddie that he couldn’t smoke pot in the motel. Others simply were not in their right minds and didn’t realize that they were shouting at a random woman and not their mom or childhood bully or the monster under the bed.

Eddie differed from both categories in that he’d recognized his mistake. That he was frustrated at the situation, not at you. That he had started an apology that he might have finished If you had stuck around.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would have continued yelling, face growing red with rage. Maybe he would have stopped his tantrum but stormed out to the bar without a second thought.

You looked down at your notebook page, still blank except for the date.

Maybe you should stop playing this game of what-ifs and actually listen to the lecture.

After your professor handed out the rubric for the final paper and dismissed the class, you and Nora made a beeline for the food cart outside the building. Dining hall food was too expensive and bland; besides, Niko knew both of your orders by heart.

He greeted you with a chipper smile as soon as you approached the cart. Bacon sizzled in its own fat, drowned out only by the sound of the chopper scraping against stainless steel as Niko scrambled the eggs.

“Better enjoy this nice weather while it lasts,” he said, fuzzy gray brows pinching together. He grabbed two styrofoam cups from a stack and filled them with coffee. “Temperature’s s’posed to skyrocket this summer.”

You grimaced, pulling a few bills from your backpack’s front pouch. “If food service doesn’t work out for you, Niko, you should look into meteorology.”

He brushed off your sarcasm and adjusted his apron over his protruding belly. He added cream and sugar to the coffees and slid them towards you. “Been doin’ this a long time,” he said, gesturing to the food cart set-up. He took your four singles and handed you back two quarters, doing the same for Nora. “Longer than you two’ve been alive. And some things never change: you kids always have somethin’ smart to say.”

Your mouth watered as he toasted the rolls and added a slice of American cheese to yours before combining the ingredients into hearty sandwiches. He carefully wrapped them in tinfoil and handed them over.

You smiled, uncovered the sandwich, and took a hearty bite. Melty cheese oozed out from the roll and clung to your lip, and you collected it with the tip of your tongue. “At least we’re consistent,” you teased, waving goodbye as you and Nora walked to the bus stop.

“What went down at the motel today?” Nora asked, chewing her food as she spoke. “I mean, I’ve seen you get to class early during a blizzard,” she added with a knowing grin.

You remembered that day, February winds whipping around you and cutting through your layers of clothes like a knife. The snow stung your nose and cheeks and made it nearly impossible to see three feet ahead of you, but you’d made it to class before the professor had even arrived.

“Nothing really,” you tried to say nonchalantly, taking another bite of sandwich to keep your mouth busy. You don’t want to think about the way Eddie had raised his voice at you this afternoon; more specifically, the shame that tugged at you for being disappointed. You’d had one decent interaction with him and you’d foolishly assumed some kind of mutual respect had been built, but it all boiled down to the basics: he was a guest at the motel who would be checking out on Friday, and then you’d never see him again.

Nora wrinkled her nose, not quite believing you, but any further interrogation was interrupted by the bus squeaking to a stop. You dropped the five quarters into the tray before squeezing your way through the aisle.

“Just…” Nora dropped her voice to avoid drawing the ire of your fellow commuters, grabbing onto a pole to steady herself, “you didn’t need to break out the pepper spray or anything, right?”

You gave her a grateful smile. “Nothing like that. I promise.”

“Good.” She reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze, careful not to brush up against anyone else. “Because I need my study buddy in one piece.”

“I’m fi—” The bus lurched forward suddenly, the driver slamming on the brakes just as the yellow light turned red. You tightened your grip on the pole and planted your feet into the floor to keep your balance until coming to a complete stop. The other passengers grumbled and groaned as they shifted, leaving trails of mumbled sorry’s in their wake.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority would likely cause your demise well before any motel guest could get to you.

It was barely after six PM when you got back to the motel. The sun began to creep down from its pedestal into purpling clouds and teased dusk’s beginning. Horns honked as rush hour traffic dragged along the expressway as though their cacophony would make the other cars evaporate into thin air.

You had about four hours before your shift started; it was just enough time to work on the paper, take a quick nap, and boil water in your electric kettle to make some Cup Noodles.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Eddie leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his pointer and middle finger. It was freshly lit, but he still extinguished it under his foot before stepping closer to you. His brown eyes flickered from the ground to your face and back down again.

“Hi.” Short but polite, your customer-service smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You could see Mom through the glass door, leafing through paperwork that was almost certainly a stack of past-due bills.

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing one Reeboked heel against the pavement. “I went to that bar you told me about.” He said it all in one breath as though he expected you to take off running.

“Oh.” One corner of your mouth quirked up in a hesitant half-smile. “Did you, um, did you get to watch your show?”

He nodded, a forlorn look clouding his eyes. His right incisor dug into his lower lip. “Yeah. Thanks.” He paused, and you started for the door once again before he spoke up. “Sorry, I—you said you had a class today?” he asked, clumsily tripping over his words.

There was no sense in lying; not with your backpack hooked over your shoulders. “Mhm.”

“Were you…” His tongue swiped nervously over his lips. “Did I make you late?”

You shook your head. “I got a dollar cab.” Not quite a lie, just omitting the truth. At this point, you were willing to let him smoke weed again if it’d result in easy conversation.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, head tilted slightly as he assessed your response. He seemingly accepted it at face value, exhaling a quiet, “that’s good,” and fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette.

You took that as your cue to leave and ducked into the lobby to greet your mom with a quick wave. She returned it with a weary smile, eyes creased at the corners. The soft lines etched into her forehead had deepened over the past few months. The Reagan-Bush trickle-down economy era might have come to an end, but its remnants still affected small businesses and the even smaller people running them.

“How was class?”

“Good.”

The usual exchange, no real information revealed. The mother-daughter song-and-dance performance of the ages. As long as neither of you disrupted the routine, the music played on.

Ten PM rolled around too quickly, and you plodded into the lobby with a stomach full of sodium-drenched noodles and your tote bag full of books. A street light flickered outside, more off than on, illuminating the sidewalk in a hazy glow every so often.

Mom handed over the register keys and placed a kiss on your cheek before she left to go to bed in the room she shared with Dad. Nighttime was the only time they got to be together uninterrupted, and it was spent sleeping.

That wasn’t what you wanted. When–if–you found somebody to share your life with, you wanted to have conversations with topics besides financial upkeep. You wanted to talk about meaningless topics and make each other laugh. You wanted to lay with your head on their lap, gazing into their eyes and revering in the beautiful silence. Nothing forced or planned. Just being.

You positioned yourself behind the desk, spreading your supplies in front of you. You’d managed to draft the opening paragraph for your essay before sleepiness overtook you and you’d had to nap, and your goal tonight was to revise it to perfection. The upcoming weekend would be spent at the public library, nose deeply buried in every psychology book they owned while you outlined the body.

Red pen marked up your page, commas added and removed three times over. Arrows shifted sentence order, while some sentences were altogether crossed out with heavy lines.

It was perfect. It was all wrong. You loved it. You hated it.

Maybe I should scrap it altogether and start over.

Your palm pressed to the notebook page, ready to tear it out and crumple it into a ball with jagged edges that would dig into your skin.

“Hey.”

In your intense focus, you hadn’t even heard anyone walk in. A rookie mistake; somebody could have snuck up on you and you’d be none the wiser.

Eddie stood there, a folded one-dollar peering out from between his thumb and forefinger. He shuffled to the desk and held out the money, his eyes offering a silent apology.

“I owe you for the, uh, cab,” he mumbled, lips forming a tight, nervous smile. “And don’t argue with me. I know my bullshit made you late, so…” He flitted his free hand as if dismissing potential concern.

You clicked your tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re not from New York City, are you?”

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, fingers scratching at a stubbled patch along his cheek. “How’d ya know?”

“A New York man knows better than to tell a New York woman not to argue with him,” you teased, capping your pen. “Also, you tried starting a conversation with me earlier, and any New Yorker knows that’s a cardinal sin.”

“Having a conversation?”

“Making small talk with a stranger.”

His nose crinkled in adorable bewilderment as though the thought never occurred to him. “We’re not strangers. We met last night.”

The innocence of his remark drew a genuine laugh out of you. “I see the same people on the bus every day,” you told him, “and they’re still strangers. Being more than mildly aware of someone's existence doesn’t mean I know them.”

“Fair point,” Eddie conceded, leaning in slightly, “but I’d argue that we know each other’s names, so we’re not total strangers.”

Humming your acknowledgment–but not necessarily agreement–you plucked the dollar from his grasp and tucked it into your back pocket. “I’ll put this towards your bill.”

“Oh, yeah. About that.” Eddie cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are there any pawn shops around here that’ll buy a guitar?”

“No, sorry.” There had been one down the street but it had already been shuttered for a few years. Guests would go there all the time to hock whatever they could to pay for another night at the motel.

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Shit. Okay.” The playfulness behind his eyes faded. “Um, thanks anyway.”

He turned away from the desk, shoulders slumped. You knew that look all too well; it was the stance of someone who just needed life to cut them a break.

“Eddie?”

He swiveled back around, his curls a half-second behind. “Yeah?”

“Do you know how to re-wallpaper a room?”

“Huh?” Your question caught him by surprise, and he took a moment to collect himself. “I mean, yeah, kind of. I did it for my uncle’s trailer once. But I’m not, like, a professional.”

You smiled. “No professional experience necessary.” You gestured to the various spots on the wall where the paper was cracked and peeled. “If you can make this look presentable, you can stay a few more days. Free of charge.”

His expression immediately darkened, eyes narrowing and crossed arms closing off his body. “I don’t need charity,” he asserted through a tensed jaw.

“It’s not charity; it’s a favor.” The harsh reaction caught you off-guard, but you refused to let him unsettle you again. “Look around: do you really think we can afford to hire someone to install new wallpaper?”

You didn’t bother to wait for his response before continuing. “We need to fix this place up, and you need a roof over your head.” Shrugging casually, you held onto the hope that he would also view this as a mutually beneficial offer and not a pity handout.

Eddie just scoffed, a rejection in itself, compounded with a growling reprise: “I said, I don’t need charity.”

Spikes jutted out from his words and pinched your skin, each one a reminder of your uncanny ability to worsen every problem you tried to solve.

Offering a job to someone you barely knew? He gave you a buck to pay for the cab you only had to take because of him—not exactly the best character statement. The man could be a serial killer who preys on low-budget motel owners and you’d be none the wiser, signing his checks like you weren’t his next victim.

Maybe next week, you could hire Ted Bundy to change bed linens.

“Understood.”

He looked at you so intensely his pupils should have bored a hole right through you. Behind his eyes wasn’t an ounce of hate or even anger.

It was raw shame.

I’m sorry got caught in your throat and didn’t reach your tongue until he had disappeared back down the hall, out of sight.

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aidenoconnell · 4 months

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get down to business.

The morning dew on the grass and streets of New York as the sun tries to break free from its cloud cage. Streaks of light come through bounce off glass buildings as Aiden makes a sharp turn not to collide with a woman walking her white poodle. The city’s quiet at this hour and perhaps that’s what Aiden loves so much about being an early riser is that there isn’t one thing he has to worry about right now except his heart rate and his cadence. He checks his watch at that thought and he’s at his typical average even though he’s taken a different route this morning, needing a little more time to clear his head before the new work week begins. The only thing blocking Aiden from here to his penthouse is the million of tasks lined up that rifles through his mind like Roldex. That, and the roads blocked all the way up the East Side for a marathon coming up.

He dodges pylons and barriers, slipping his way through to the front entrance of his building. Aiden’s calves have a slight ache to them as he walks inside and Edward calls an elevator for him which comes within moments. Aiden steps inside, a quick thank you to Edward, and presses one of the top buttons. The ride is efficient and opens up to the tiny hallway and all Aiden has to do is swipe a key fob and he waltzes into his place. He doesn’t bother so much with lights as he takes his running shoes off and removes his moisture-wicking t-shirt and matching shorts when he enters into his bathroom and steps into the shower.

Shower, coffee, toast with peanut butter and Aiden’s resisting every urge in him not to look at his emails before he needs to. It’s a motion he’s been putting in practice and is being enforced (encouraged) by his assistant as well. It’s for the better, he knows, Aiden can get such bad tunnel vision that he loses his entire day if he isn’t careful about it. So this is some kind of mid-year resolution. Here’s to hoping anyway. Cars start moving outside, the world waking up and that’s when Aiden gets his gears going. Navy suit, white shirt, coordinating tie, slick black dress shoes. Some days Aiden’s so dressed up, but there’s a series of meetings he’s in today so it’s best to look best. He is the boss afterall, at least one of them.

Like clockwork, Aiden is ready and out the door before most people’s second or third alarm is going off. Back in the elevator, he presses the button that goes to the garage level. Aiden takes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks an all black car situated beside another high end one and slips into the driver’s seat with the engine roaring to life. Three quick movements and he’s out of the spot and back out into the now bright and sunny New York streets, motoring down to the office.

Here’s to another week of being on top… of business, that is.

#frpara1: get down to business

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what-even-is-thiss · 1 year

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If you don’t want to or can’t bind for whatever reason and you still wanna pass:

Layers. They add a level of confusion that distracts people from your boobs. Invest in some lightweight/moisture wicking button up shirts for the hot months. You can usually find used ones for a few bucks at thrift stores, and if you’re willing to buy new from outdoorsy companies like Eddie Bauer they usually have the most lightweight and durable ones.

Stubble. If you’re able to grow facial hair but still like the look of a clean shaven face better, using an electric trimmer or only shaving at night can give you visible stubble while still mostly looking like you shave. If you have visible stubble people are more likely to read you as male even if your chest is a bit big. Experiment with what works for you. If you can’t grow facial hair but still want the look there are tutorials online for how to make fake stubble with makeup.

Sports bras. I usually use tomboyX or champions brand sports bras. Compression bras or shirts for post surgery can also be an option to reduce the size of your chest if those work for you. Don’t wear them to sleep unless you have to though. Be responsible. If you don’t like your breasts moving around while you sleep, try wearing a looser fitting sports or sleep bra or wear a tight fitting t-shirt.

Loose fitting clothing. Not so baggy that it looks like you’re wearing a sack though. That can actually bring more attention to the shape of your body. Just a little bit big. Not skintight. If you’re overweight and/or have smaller breasts you might be able to go without a bra this way depending on your body type. Experiment with what works for you and your needs

Good posture/masculine stance. Gamer posture doesn’t actually hide your chest as much as you think it does. Go through life acting like you belong where you are. Visible nervousness and trying to hide your chest brings more attention to you. Move more with your shoulders than your hips, observe how cis men move, and act like you belong there. It’ll actually help more than a chest binder in most circumstances.

Kinesiology Tape. NOT for everyone and very painful if done improperly. But you can tape your breasts to the side for a few days at a time with skin safe tape. Please for the love of god do your research first though and do NOT use packing or duct tape.

Good luck out there kids and always listen to your body! If you’re hurting yourself, stop that method.

#roman said a thing #trans stuff

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grunklejam · 29 days

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#gravity falls #gravity falls fandom #not s&p approved #stan pines #grunkle stan #mystery shack #gravity falls merch #etsy

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irlactualhuman · 1 month

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The amount that I hear "Straight up!" and "That's money" from 30+ year old, country-ass white guys in shit kickers and moisture wicking t-shirts while I'm at work is rapidly reaching unsustainable levels.

The zeitgeist is struggling in a way that I cannot feasibly mend.

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itslostfocus · 1 year

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vocab list: 옷

신발: shoes, footwear

구두: formal shoes

깨끗한: clean, neat (깨끗하다 - for Adjectives)

청소하다: to be clear (for Verbs)

맑은: clean, pure, clear; sunny with no clouds

치우다: to tidy (up), clean (up/out); move, remove, clear (away)

지우다: to erase, delete, rub off

버튼: button (elevator, power, smartphone, etc; not common in clothing)

단추: button (clothing)

더러운: dirty, filthy, mean, awful, terrible, nasty (bad and wicked person)

지저분한: dirty, messy, unclean, squalid

더러워지다: to get dirty, filthy, messy, soiled

오염된: contaminated, soiled

비열한: bastard, sneak

입다: to dress, wear

옷: dress, shirt, clothes, wear, apparel (daily life); one or several

드레스: dress (West)

복장: formal clothes (work, funerals, etc)

변장: disguise

모자: cap, hat

뚜껑: cover, lid, cap (bottle, pen, container, box, etc)

상한: maximum, the upper limit

마무리짓다: to wrap (something) up

바지: pants, trousers

팬츠: pants

팬티: underwear (regardless of the gender)

셔츠: shirt, t-shirt, polo shirt, etc

스웨터: sweater

양말: sock

의복: clothes (=의상)

의상: clothes (=의복)

세탁물: laundry (clothes that need to be washed)

옷가지: several clothes

착용하다: to wear something that sticks to the body (clothes, hats, shoes, necklaces, etc)

쓰다: to wear/put on a hat, helmet, etc

닳다: to wear out (something til it becomes old), dry up (moisture to decrease); run out (oil or electricity)

장갑: glove

주머니: pocket

호주머니: pocket (attached to a cloth)

포켓: pocket

자금: budget

용돈: pocket money

짝지어주다: to pair up

한 쌍: pair

2인조: pair of people

한 벌: a suit (formal clothes, the 2 pieces), a set (pair of formal shoes), top and bottom clothes

치마: skirt

코트: coat (winter); tennis/basketball court

외피: outermost layer of an object thast has multiple layers (outer covering of a coat or garment)

도금: plating, gilding, coating an object with a thin later of a metal (gold or silver)

외투: jacket (in general)

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sultaul20 · 1 year

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mrsfrecklesmarauders · 8 months

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TW: Homophobia and Internal Homophobia

Sirius couldn't sleep again. The nightmares were endless. Sirius couldn't stop thinking about everything his parents said, everything Alphard said and everything Regulus said before he left. Sirius thought it would be easy now that he was at The Potters. But he couldn't get away from his wicked family. They didn't leave his mind.

James was next to him, snoring occasionally. Sirius was grateful that after James heard him yell waking up from a nightmare, he had suggested to sleep in the same bed. But Sirius was also embarrassed. He didn't want to be this vulnerable around his friend.

Sirius sighed as he noticed James moving in his sleep. He was facing Sirius now and this position helped him not snore anymore. Sirius stared.

James' hair was a mess. Even wilder than normally. Without his glasses, Sirius could see James' features more clearly.

Sirius noticed his long eyelashes, the marks of the glasses' bridge had left on his nose. His lips were too dry to be true. This boy never moisturize his lips. And in a comical way it seemed like he was smiling.

James wasn't particularly handsome. But there was something about him that made him good looking. His untidy hair made him kind of hot, and even through his pijama t-shirt, Sirius could see his muscles. The white cotton contrasted with the chocolate smooth skin. Sirius stared at James' apple moving as he swallowed.

Almost without thinking, Sirius' hand reached out for James' hair. Sirius’ fingertips barely touched it before he realized what he was doing...

What the fuck was Sirius doing? What was he thinking?

Faggot, faggot, faggot... Was what crossed through Sirius' mind as he pulled away so fast, he ended up falling to the floor, making a horrible noise.

Sirius had been going insane ever since Remus kissed him last term. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Sirius had been sure his whole life that he was straight, into girls. Nothing more. He wasn't like Dumbledore or Edgar, feminine and happy. Typically gay.

Then Remus kissed him, and he enjoyed it for a second before definitely pulling away. Then over the summer, Orion had been accusing Alphard of being gay, so Sirius lost it. He said he was gay too. Only to contradict his father, only to piss him off. He was severely punished for that.

But Sirius had been going mad and paranoic about the subject. What if he was gay? He couldn't be, right? He couldn't. He was just going mad, that was it.

"Padfoot?" James asked with a sleepy voice "Are you okay?"

Sirius swallowed the pain in his back and the knot on his throat, as James popped up his head to look at him. His hair was even messier and his eyes were half opened. He put on his crooked glasses.

Sirius looked away. This was James. Sirius was going mad. Probably because of how James flirted with Sirius as a joke all the time.

"What happened?"

"I fell out of bed" Sirius answered irritated "What does it look like?"

James gave him a sympathetic look.

"Nightmare?"

Sirius stood up. He was too hot and restless.

"Something like that" he started walking "I'll be right back"

"Where are you going?"

"Out! I need some air..." And a cigarette. But Sirius didn't buy them. It was usually Remus who gave them to him. But Sirius didn't want to think about Remus right now. This was all his fault.

"I will come with you..." James said opening the covers and revealing his boxers, his bushy legs and his crotch.

Sirius hated that he stared for a second before mentally slapping himself.

"No!" he practically yelled "I need to be alone"

"But Pads..."

"I said alone, James!"

James didn't insist. When Sirius used his name it meant he was really pissed.

"Okay" James said worriedly. And then he yawned.

"Go back to sleep" Sirius tried to avoid James' presence as he put on his shoes. And then he quickly walked out of the room.

The knot on his throat went bigger and bigger as he walked outside to the Potters' Garden. He let out a loud sob. He wasn't breathing properly well.

Sirius didn't want to be gay. He guessed he had nothing against gay people. Dumbledore, Edgar and Marlene were the ones he knew. But he couldn't be gay himself. He had to be normal.

Sirius would hate that for himself. He didn't want fingers pointing at him, he didn't want people assuming he would go to gay bars and use makeup, he didn't want people calling him what Orion had called Alphard. He didn't want people whispering about him or laughing at him. He didn't want people calling him a faggot and hitting him in the street.

"NO SON OF MINE IS GOING TO BE A FUCKING FAGGOT, DO YOU HEAR ME?" Orion had yelled as he hit Sirius "I RATHER YOU'D BE DEAD... I REALLY RATHER YOU WOULD BE DEAD"

The worst part was that he hadn't sound angry. Orion had been disappointed and hurt. Almost crying. As if Sirius would have failed him.

Sirius had always been a rebel, always making his parents angry. But he never wanted to be a failure to them.

Sirius was just being paranoic and stupid. He fancies girls. He fancied girls. And he fancied only girls.

Sirius realized that he was panting and grabbing his chest when he heard his name.

"Sirius? What are you doing here on your own, love?"

When Sirius saw Effie on the door, he bursted out crying. He really couldn't help it. He really wanted to be normal. But now he was crying like freaking idiot. Sirius hated himself.

"Oh darling..."

Effie hugged him and Sirius broke down into her arms. She was smelling nicely and welcoming, like cotton, fresh flowers and home. She felt Sirius feel safe.

"It is okay, sweetheart" Effie said as he sobbed "I am here for you, okay?... Sh sh sh" she added as she patted his back.

Sirius ended up telling Effie everything that happened at Grimmauld Place over the summer and that night. Remembering every detail hurt.

Euphemia offered Sirius a cigarette which he appreciated, apparently Fleamont and James hated that she did that but she sometimes sneaked to have a fag. Sirius thought she was cool.

"I am not gay, though" Sirius added quickly, trying not to blush or feel stupid "I just said that to defend my Uncle... He is not gay either"

Euphemia gave him a big smile and squeezed his hand.

"Parents should love you for who you are, sweetheart..."

"But I'm not..."

"I know..." Effie interrupted "I was just saying that whatever you are and whoever you love, parents should love you"

Sirius sighed "I don't even know who I am"

Sirius was embarrassed to tell her about his weird feelings and thoughts about Remus, about James, about everyone at the moment. His mind was playing weird tricks.

"You are a special sweet boy who deserves all the love in the world" Effie smiled "Monty and I accept you as who you are"

"A straight boy?" Sirius smiled nervously. Are you sure about that? A voice said inside his mind which he tried to ignore.

Effie chuckled "A boy who defends what he believes"

Sirius smiled at her. But he wasn't hundred percent at ease. Perhaps he was just sad and angry. Once at Hogwarts, he would flirt with girls and perhaps find a cute girlfriend and this would all be forgotten. He wasn't gay.

But he needed to talk to Remus. And he had no clue what he was going to say. He didn't want to lose him.

"Effie..."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for listening to me" Sirius said. Effie smiled "Do you mind not telling James and Monty about this?"

"Sure"

"I will tell them eventually, just not now"

Euphemia nodded and Sirius was relieved.

"Let's go back to sleep, love"

"Okay"

Perhaps everything would be easy if he had parents like The Potters. But they weren't his parents. Orion and Walburga hated who he was and would hate him even more if he was gay. But Sirius wasn't gay, just confused.

#Sirius is having a proper gay crisis #He is definitely not straight #He just needs some time #marauders #maraudersera #muggleau #sirius black #james potter #euphemia potter #remus lupin

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fysimerch · 5 months

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fromzion · 15 days

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Making the Switch: Is Bamboo Apparel Worth Ditching Your Regular Clothes Australia?

For years, cotton has reigned supreme in Australian wardrobes. Its breathability, comfort, and versatility have made it a reliable choice for everyday wear. However, a new contender is emerging on the scene: Bamboo Apparel Australia. This innovative clothing option boasts unique advantages, prompting the question – is it worth ditching your regular clothes for bamboo? Let's delve into the pros and cons of both fabrics to help you decide.

Comfort Revolution: Softness Like Never Before

One of the biggest draws of bamboo clothes Australia is their unparalleled softness. Bamboo fibres are naturally smooth and round, unlike cotton, which can sometimes feel slightly rough. This translates to pure comfort, like wearing a gentle hug throughout the day. Whether battling the scorching Australian sun or enjoying a breezy coastal evening, bamboo apparel offers a luxurious softness that's hard to beat.

Breathability Matters: Staying Cool and Fresh

Comfort extends beyond just softness. Australian summers demand fabrics that let your skin breathe, and cotton and bamboo excel in this area to an extent. However, bamboo has a clear edge. Bamboo Apparel Australia utilizes the naturally porous nature of bamboo fibres, allowing for exceptional air circulation and moisture-wicking properties. This means staying cool and fresh throughout the day, even on the hottest days Down Under.

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Australians are known for their active lifestyles, and their clothing needs to reflect that. Traditional cotton clothing can sometimes feel restrictive, especially for those who value freedom of movement. Bamboo Apparel Australia offers a solution. The natural drape and flexibility of bamboo fabric allow for a broader range of motion, making them perfect for any activity your day throws your way.

Style Showdown: Versatility for Every Occasion

Cotton has long been a champion of versatility, easily transitioning from casual to semi-formal settings. However, bamboo clothes in Australia are also proving to be surprisingly versatile. While they may not be suitable for the most formal occasions, bamboo dresses, pants, and shirts can be dressed in blazers and heels for a polished work look. Pair them with a t-shirt or a flowy top for a casual vibe. The variety of styles and cuts available in bamboo apparel allows you to create outfits for various occasions.

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Australian life can be harsh on clothes. Durability is crucial between the hot sun, frequent washing, and outdoor adventures. The good news is that bamboo apparel Australia is surprisingly durable. Bamboo fibres are solid and resilient. With proper care, your bamboo clothes can become dependable staples in your wardrobe, maintaining their shape and softness even after multiple washes.

Sustainable Choice: Dressing with a Conscience

In today's eco-conscious world, the environmental impact of our clothing choices matters. Traditional cotton production, the primary material in most clothes, requires significant water and pesticides. Bamboo Clothes Australia offer a sustainable alternative. Bamboo is a rapidly renewable resource that thrives with minimal water and no pesticides. The production process of bamboo clothing also uses less water and chemicals than cotton, making it a more sustainable option for the planet.

The Verdict: Comfort Takes the Crown (But Keep Your Cotton Favorites)

While cotton will likely remain a wardrobe staple for its versatility and affordability, bamboo apparel in Australia offers a compelling alternative, especially when comfort and sustainability are top priorities. Bamboo's unparalleled softness, breathability, and flexibility make it a comfortable choice for any activity. Additionally, its surprising versatility and eco-friendly nature make it a strong contender for a place in your wardrobe.

However, the decision doesn't have to be all or nothing. Bamboo clothes Australia can coexist with your existing cotton wardrobe. Bamboo apparel is a welcome addition to your everyday wear collection for ultimate comfort and a sustainable choice. For those days where affordability or a specific style is the priority, cotton remains a reliable option.

So, why not embrace the variety? Invest in a few critical pieces of bamboo clothes Australia and experience the comfort revolution for yourself. You might find your new favourite clothing companion perfect for the Australian climate and lifestyle.

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nsteetshirtsformen · 7 months

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Classy Black 100% Supima Cotton T-shirt online in India

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nauticonfashionstore9 · 7 months

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"Solid Wear T-shirt For Men's Gym Outfit"

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severussnapedamagedlove · 8 months

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CHAPTER FOUR - MTA One Trick Pony. Update!

A hot heavy sun hung in the sky. It poured in through the open mesh of the blue and silver tent. Humidity already tainted the air as Laini rose from her cot. A sheen coated her skin. The pungency of her armpits soured her nostrils.

She should have taken that bath like Shane suggested.

Her body ached as she rose to standing. The pain sourced at the low end of her back.

The stupid cot was slumped in the center from many nights of two bodies cuddled together. It no longer supported them adequately to prevent mild soreness when they arose.

She tossed on one of Shane’s old high school football t-shirts over the soaked through bra. As bits of its outline made specks of dampness on the shirt, she opted for a freer style. The bra was thrown into the exiled corner – clothes in dire need of soaking and soap and maybe decontamination with a blow torch.

Silky shiny new pants taunted her with their intact store tags. They were stretchy. However, their material felt durable, thicker than usual stretch pants.

They were smooth against her legs as she pulled them up. The fabric clung to every curve of her frame. It tucked in the slight pudge at her belly with the taut hold of the waist band. All in all, they were leggings that paraded as hiking pants, with external cargo pockets and khaki color. It contrasted the black, moisture-wicking shirt of Shane’s which typically clung to his chest and arms that looked rather relaxed on her person. Baggy and billowed out in unflattering light.

She tied away the excess of the shirt, twisting and tucking it at the center of her bellybutton. Soft nubs of her nipples protruded the fabric.

Andrea said we couldn’t cling to the old-world thinking. Laini didn’t see why it couldn’t apply to women’s nipples, too.

The camp was busy with their chore list. Late morning scrambles. Shane’s green jeep was gone. It was used as a transport for water.

Lori was bent over the tub with her hands in water. Scrubbing away.

She caught a glance at Laini’s emergence from the tent. “We didn’t wait.”

Her nose wrinkled. The first voice she liked to hear in the morning was someone not so…Lori.

“I didn’t ask you to,” she retorted as she brushed by Lori’s wash station.

A pair of gentle hands touched Laini’s arm with an even gentler voice. “Don’t worry. I saved some for you. It’s just in the pot there.”

The brunette bitch continued her glare. “If you sleep late, you have to do your own dishes.”

The bottom scraping of stew was the best part. It was full of the heavy bits. Loaded with the added vegetables and small shreds of meat. The serving spoon filled half up.

“It’s a spoon and a bowl. I think I can manage.”

They were sure not to betray the intention of their words with a harsh tone. Lori knew how to hide her statements in the guise of an indifferent sound. It fooled most of them. Even Rick, at times. It only helped Laini’s mood to give the woman a small taste of her own condescending medicine in front of others so it was hidden in the same tone as Lori’s.

Carol and Sophia were near. Neither lifted their gaze to observe the actual cat fight. They were busy with their tasks, unbothered with the conversation, like it was discussion of the weather. Little Soph was able to do basic mending with a bit of thread and needle. Her hands held one of her mother’s shirts, just a small enough tear at the collar.

“Are you sure? You don’t need Shane to hold your hand.” Lori snipped.

The sting of hot stew on her tongue forced her voice quiet. She swallowed the chunk of meat with great effort.

Smug pride toyed with Lori’s lips. Decidedly she thought she’d come out on top.

Feminism spoke to women supporting women. They were not competition or enemies to other women’s success. That was a product of patriarchy conditioned to their minds.

Feminism, of course, forgot to address how to respond to the ones who bought into the conditioning.

Laini was taught violence was a sound option when words were only doing a thumbtacks job when a sword was needed. But violence in and of itself was different in every form.

She did not need to eliminate Lori in her life; that would never happen. The only thing needed done was proof that Shane chose which place Lori was in, and it was dead last.

“I only hold his hand to keep it from roaming.” She flashed a quick wink before she turned to Carol. “The man’s too bold to be trusted in the middle of camp.”

The woman gave a small laugh. Her cheeks flared red with a blush.

Her daughter beside her did not know what to think. She glanced upward at Carol with question. It had Carol’s cheeks flaring brighter. “When you’re older,” she told her.

There was a bit of life that peaked out time to time. Carol forgot to be scared. Her eyes ignited with a sparkle, like bits of her old self coming out to play.

Lori finished her scrubbing. She carried the tub out to the edge of camp to toss the dirty water into the grass.

“Camp’s busy this morning,�� Laini commented.

A strange rush sparked behind their heels.

Motions of Carol’s hands slowed as she, too, looked around. “Rick’s decided to go back to fetch Merle.”

The spoon went slack between Laini’s fingers. It clanked against the bowl’s bottom in a loud commotion.

“They’re going back.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Daryl came back from his hunt early this morning,” Carol stated.

That statement needed no further explanation.

READ MORE AT the link below. :) Thanks so much for the support. I love Shane Walsh as a morally grey character. Thanks for letting me live through these fics a bit.

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