#sticking her brain under a microscope to try to understand why this was her first thought

[netlifxandcastielclosed]

Forrest Green Forrest Blues (ch1)

Excuse me while I cry in the corner of this site because I deleted this original post on accident and I hate myself because I am standing in the doorway waving bye bye to all of those lovely notes and reblogs and kind words. Anyways, I am reposting this and I’ll be relinking everything. 

Pairing: Castiel x Dean (High School AU)

Words: 2160

Warnings: Nothing really in this chapter. Just getting some groundwork done and meeting the characters.

Notes: This series is based on a bunch of Frank Ocean songs. I got major destiel feels after listening to him all week. So here we go, some destiel AU for your enjoyment. Pull out the tissue boxes.

Summary: Castiel Novak, Carver High’s nerd of the century, always sits at the top of the bleachers when he best friend drags him to games.  He could care less about what the score is because his entire focus is on the feeling of the cigarette between his lips. His only pull to the field is when Dean Winchester, the popular quarterback graces the field with his presence. This is their last year before graduation and everything is about to change.

Ch. 2 Ch.3

Senior year for Castiel had begun and the hallway walls were plasters with student painted banners advertising the homecoming football game. The blue-eyed kid couldn’t wait for the year to be over. He wanted to get out of the dreadfully small town he grew up in and move to California where his sister now lived. He knew life had so much more to offer than stingy diners and suburban neighborhoods where everyone knew everyone else’s business. The biggest news to hit the town this month was that Mrs. Mills’ cat was saved from the old oak tree. What a joke.

Castiel walked mindlessly down the south wing with his best friend Charlie while she rambled on about her new classes and how she was planning to hack one of the teacher’s lesson plans.

“It will be the biggest laugh of the year if I get Mr. Singer to show the class that video within the first week,” laughed Charlie. She saw that Castiel was staring off into the distance, not paying attention to a word she just said. “Hello? Earth to Cas… It’d be funny, right?” She waved her hand in front of Cas’ face to bring him back to reality.

“Huh? Oh, yeah… sure, “murmured Cas, as he kept walking and nearly running into a stray garbage can.  

“Thanks for your support, best friend,” Charlie said sarcastically while she punched him in the shoulder.

“Sorry, Charlie. I’m just distracted.” Cas sighed and shrugged.

“No kidding… What’s got your brain all fuzzy?” They both stopped when they reached their neighboring lockers.

“Nothing. I just was thinking about California again.”

“Oh right. Your big plans to leave me high and dry after graduation! How could I forget?” Charlie closed her locker after picking out a few books and then leaned on it, waiting for Cas to gather his supplies. “You just can’t wait to leave us all here in the dust, can you,” moped Charlie.

“It’s not like that… plus you could always come with me if you wanted.” Cas finished up and they started walking to their next class.

“You know I can’t do that, Cas… I’ve got my mom to think about.”

“True. Sorry.” There was a brief moment of awkward silence but the five-minute warning bell cuts it off.

“Don’t worry about me, Cas. I’ll be fine here! I’ve got all these lame-os to keep me entertained.” She gestured to the rushing late students sliding through the halls. “ Tell you what… you can make it up to me by coming to the homecoming game tonight with me. I hacked the cheerleader’s uniform order and now their skirts are two inches shorter than they were supposed to be! It’s going to be glorious!”

“Really? A football game… can’t I just make it up to you by doing your English homework?”

Charlie didn’t answer him back. The screechy voice of their math teacher yelled at them through the door to take their seats. There was no use in arguing with Charlie anyhow; she was annoyingly persuasive without effort.

That night, Castiel sat at the very top of the bleachers while the rest of the school stood, cheered and sang along to their team’s fight song.  Sports were never Castiel’s cup of tea. He’d much rather be at home, reading books and listening to music. But the least he could do was pretend to have a good time. He watched Charlie gush over the cheerleaders and giggle at each of them trying to pull their skirts down further.

Cas was the only one who knew Charlie liked girls. In a small town like theirs, that news wouldn’t go over too well with the community. So he understood why she kept quiet but he felt special having been the only one she trusted enough. Cas hadn’t even fully come to terms with his own ever-changing sexuality. He hadn’t even told Charlie about it yet. But he wasn’t even sure what he could label himself as; he just loved… everyone. Not anyone in this town of course, but just people in general. They were all beautiful to him and he wanted to be able to experience it all without boundaries.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the song was over and the game began. Castiel paid as much attention as he could to the game before some kids playing tag on the playground nearby distracted him.

“Wow! Did you see that play? There’s no way the other team can catch up now!” Charlie whooped and hollered down to the field as the team ran by and waved to their fellow classmates.

Castiel was just about bored out of his mind when something caught his eye. The quarterback was doing a victory dance surrounded by cheerleaders. He put his hands behind his head, made an arrogant duck face with his lips and swayed his hips from side to side.

“Oh great… here we go again. The beloved Dean Winchester, eating up all the attention being thrown at him. He just loves being a ham, doesn’t he?” Castiel rolled his eyes and pulled out a cigarette and lighter from his back pocket. He lit it and took a long drag.

Charlie wasn’t even paying attention to him anymore. For a nerd, she was surprisingly very into sports and she was wrapped up in yelling at the ref for a bad call. So Castiel sat back and babied his death stick while watching the next play. Without knowing why Cas couldn’t peel his eyes away from Dean. He scoffs at each of his arrogant movements but appreciated the way his body gracefully spun and dodged the opposing team. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself when Dean reached the end zone. Cas didn’t understand why he was taking such an interest in this guy… there wasn’t even anything entirely intriguing about him other than his obvious good looks. Castiel shrugged it off and then extinguished the ending butt of his cigarette onto the bleacher seat.

--

“Okay, class… today we will go through chapters two and three. Then I will assign you project partners for the year and we can get started on our first assignment,” explained Ms. Hanscum.

The instructions generated some bothered grumbles and a few eye rolls. Most of the class wanted to pick their own partners, which the teacher knew would just end up in a mess of distracted teens. So, she chose to randomly assign partners and avoid any of those issues. Ms. Hanscum was Castiel’s favorite teacher. She was funny, smart and accepting. All of which are rare characteristics to find in people of this humdrum town.

“Okay… let’s see… Kevin! You’re with, Lena. Hm… Sam? You’re with… Jo! Now Charlie… who should we pair you with… let’s go with Lisa.” Charlie whooped under her breath, happy she got partnered with the beautiful head cheerleader.

“Sebastian? I’m putting you with Richard. Just don’t take advantage of my kindness on this one, okay? No funny business!” The two trouble making boys gave each other knowing smirks and chuckled to themselves. Ms. Hanscum went through the roster one by one, pairing everyone off. Just when Castiel thought he was forgotten, he heard his name.

“Castiel?”

“Yes, Ms. Hanscum,” Cas looked up from his desk patiently waiting to hear who he’d be stuck with for the new few months.

“I’m pairing you with Dean Winchester.”

The charming green-eyed student looked up and caught eyes with blue ones. They exchanged awkward smiles and waves across the room and then waited for the rest of the class to be paired off. Class ended and the room was nearly clear when Mrs. Hanscum called Castiel to her desk before he left.

“Mr. Novak? Do you have a moment? I need to speak with you about something.”

“Sure, Ms. H,” Cas replied. “I’ll catch you later Charlie. Save me a seat in Bio.” The messy haired kid waved to his friend and then dropped his bag into a seat.

“Okay… so Castiel… I asked you to stay back after class to discuss this year's project partners situation.”

“Okay…”

“You’re probably wondering why I paired you with Dean Winchester.” The kind-hearted teacher sat against her desk, facing her student. “I originally planned on pairing you with Charlie because I know how well you two work together. Then I thought about you and about how incredibly smart you are and how it would go to such a waste if it couldn’t help other people.”

The praise made Castiel blush. Sure, Cas was smart but he also was kind of a rebel. Always making it a point to stick away from the social norm. But he made sure that everything he did, no matter how crazy or fun, it would never compromise his intelligence. Ms. Hanscum was still rambling on about how impressive Cas’ test scores were last year and to Cas it just went in one ear and out the other.

“So back to my original point… Dean Winchester.” She paused for a moment waiting for a response.

“What about him,” Cas asked nonchalantly.

“He’s smart. I know it… but he’s got this bad rap. He is under a tremendous amount of pressure to be perfect. He is the star of the football team and popular… he is under the microscope of this entire school and everyone expects beyond greatness from him. But his grades are slipping; he barely passed my class last year. I think he’s dumbing himself down to look cool. Like some cracked up joke that makes his friends laugh. I’d hate to see him fail over something so immature. So I think it is time for him to surround himself with other types of people.”

“Other people,” Cas asked curiously.

“Yes. People like you. People that aren’t afraid to be themselves or to take risks when they seem scary.”

“Okay,” said Castiel, still confused about her main point. “What exactly do you want me to do about this?”

“So I not only want you to be his project partner this year but I also want you to tutor him… and maybe think about spending time with him outside of school. You know… show him what life can be like beyond this town. There is a whole other world out there and I know you know this... I even hear from Charlie you are thinking of going to college in California.” Ms. Hanscum stood back up and started to organize her desk.

“But Dean doesn’t even know I exist. I don’t even know what I would say to the guy beyond giving him a few book suggestions. We come from two completely different worlds…”

“Exactly,” smiled Donna. “That is what I am hoping for… I know you can do this, Castiel. Just be yourself and everything else will fall into place.” She finished packing up her book bag and started to head out the door. “Thanks again for doing this, Castiel. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Castiel sat for a moment trying to figure out how it was possible to have agreed to this without even saying yes during that entire conversation. He shrugged it off, gathered his things and left the classroom. He was half way down the hall when he saw Lisa leaned on the lockers with Dean pressed against her. Of course, they were making out… typical. Head cheerleader dating the captain of the football team. Their school might as well have been the site for a bad teen RomCom movie. Castiel tried to avert his eyes as much as possible and scurried by them unnoticed. He was suddenly stopped short by a captivating voice. It was deep and smooth like a well-aged whiskey. 

“Hey, Cas! Wait up!”

“Huh? Me? Oh… Hello, Dean.”

“So I guess Ms. H talked to you about tutoring me after school, huh,” Dean commented through his side smile. Castiel noticed his perfect teeth and smooth lips. God, that was annoying.

“Yeah, she mentioned it I guess,” lied Castiel. “You knew about that?”

“Mhm… she asked me if I’d be cool with it yesterday.” Castiel was surprised. He didn’t think Dean even knew who he was, let alone have the guy talk about him with their teacher. He even used the shortened version of his name. “So did you agree? I could really use the help with this class.”

Then Cas realized that Ms. H probably only talked to Dean about the tutoring part of the deal, not so much the being friends part. He figured he’d spare the guy the embarrassment and act as if he knew the same.

“Yes. Of course, I’ll help you,” Cas said sternly but with a small smile.

“Great! That’s awesome… thanks, man.” Dean slapped Cas on the shoulder and he practically fell over from the impact. “This is going to be a great year.”

Castiel would later come to realize this was true. He just didn’t know it yet.

[devereauxsdisease]

Space Invader Time Stamp 1

Ok, so I thought it was time to write a Space Invader time stamp. This is for a reader who wanted a bit more of the Bev/Darko relationship. It’s set about a year before the epilogue. 

Thanks go out to @wrathofthestag​ who tolerates all my craziness as I write and even looks my nonsense over so I don’t share anything too terrible. 

You Going to Piss on the Stick, or What?

         “Beverly? Are you vomiting?” Adam tapped at the bathroom door again. “If you’re vomiting, I should probably leave, I don’t like being sick.”      

         Beverly wretched into the toilet again. She was never, ever eating gas station sushi again, no matter how far afield her cases took her. Everything had been just fine until Nigel and Adam had come over to watch the game, when one sniff of Nigel’s beer had sent her scrabbling for a toilet. Just the thought of that stale wheat smell had Bev lurching into the bowl again.

         “Beverly? Nigel went to the store, he said he knew what to do.” She could hear Adam drumming his fingers nervously on the floor. “Would you like me to slide you a magazine under the door? I can do that without contaminating myself.”

         “It’s OK, Adam,” Her voice was raspy and her tongue tasted sour in her mouth. “I’m pretty sure it’s food poisoning.”

         “OK, but don’t open the door, just in case it’s the flu.” Adam sounded unconvinced. “I have an exam next week and I don’t want to be sick.”

         Bev rolled her eyes. That was as close to sympathy as she was probably going to get from Adam. Part of her wanted to call Darko, ask him to come home, so she could spend the night being cuddled and pampered. She dismissed the idea, she hated the idea of admitting she needed anyone, even now. She didn’t need her husband to feel better. She just needed to stop fucking puking.

         A knock rattled the door.

         “You’ve got your clothes on, yeah?”

         “Yes, Nigel.”

         The door opened.

         “I sent Adam home, he’s not great with this shit. He hopes you feel better and you don’t fucking infect him.” Nigel tromped into the bathroom, pausing to lay a plastic bag on the sink and grab a washcloth. He ran the cloth under the tap, wringing it out before he laid the cool cloth across the back of Bev’s neck. He flopped to the floor beside her. “You look fucking rough, Katz.”

         “I feel fucking rough, dick.”

         “OK, well I’ve got some stuff for you.” He grabbed the bag and handed it to her. She dug out a bottle of Pepto, two Powerades, and a pregnancy test. She blinked at it and looked at Nigel with wide eyes. “What? You’ve been trying for nearly a year, haven’t you?”

         Bev could feel her mouth falling open, she only hoped she wouldn’t puke again. Nigel shrugged.

         “Darko was fucking worried he was shooting blanks, I fucking told him with his aim, he’d be lucky if any of his fucking spunk found your eggs.”

         “He told you we were having trouble?” Something began roiling in her stomach again. Phil hadn’t told her he was worried. Did he not think he could tell her?

         “He told me he was afraid you married a sterile old man. I told him I didn’t want to hear about his fucking come anymore and he should just thank his lucky fucking stars you let him fuck you at all.” Nigel rolled his neck and motioned to the box. “You going to piss on the stick or what, gorgeous?”

         Bev looked at the box in her hands. Fuck, she had done shots last weekend at McKensie’s bachelorette party. She caught Nigel’s eye. “I don’t think I can pee right now.”

         Nigel rolled his eyes. “What the fuck do you think the Powerade is for? Chug, woman.”

         Bev laughed, grabbing the blue bottle and making a toasting motion.

                                                  -XXX-

         Nigel sat outside the bathroom door, letting his head fall back onto the wood. He texted Adam, letting a smile curve his mouth.

         4:37pm         Be home soon, gorgeous.

         4:38pm         Good! I have washed my clothes and bathed. Is Bev ok? Do you feel sick? Should I get protective masks?

         4:39pm         Bev’s fine. I’m fine. You’re not going to spray me with fucking Lysol when I get home, are you?

         4:41pm         No. But I would appreciate it if you stripped immediately and took a shower.

         4:44pm         Only if you get in the shower with me, make sure I’m clean. 😉

         4:46pm         I told you I already had a shower, Nigel.

         4:47pm         I wanna fuck, Cosmo.

         4:48pm         Oh! Sure! After you shower.         And brush your teeth.

         Nigel started to laugh when the door opened. He held up a finger, asking Bev for a minute.

         4:50pm         I fucking love you, Cosmo. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.

         Nigel pocketed his phone and turned. Bev’s hand was trembling and her eyes were wide.

         “Up the duff, then?”

         She nodded, holding out the positive test.

         “I don’t want your fucking piss stick, Bev. I believe you.”

         Bev shook her head and sat the stick on the sink. She wandered into the living room and flopped on the couch. Nigel followed, throwing an arm around her and drawing her close.

         “What’s wrong?”

         Bev shook her head. “I…I started to think it wasn’t going to happen. I stopped mentioning it to Phil. I didn’t even fucking check this month.” She looked at Nigel, eyes watering. “Fuck, Nigel, I had so much fucking vodka last weekend.”

         “I wouldn’t worry, Bev. My mother was drunk and turning tricks most of her pregnancy and look how fucking great I turned out!” Bev rolled her eyes and smacked him. “Look, we all know you and Adam are going to get together and start fucking planning and it’ll be nine fucking months of organic mac and cheese and fucking juice for all of us. Fuck it, you’ll probably even get Darko and I to do prenatal yoga or whatever the fuck guarantees your baby is a genius now. You’re going to be a great fucking mom, Bev.”

         Bev bit her lip, then smiled. Gently, she took Nigel’s hand and placed it on her stomach. “You’re going to be a great fucking uncle, Nigel.”

         Nigel shook his head, but his hand stayed, softly stroking over her middle.

         “You will. I’ll always know the kid is safe with you. You protect family over everything.” Nigel scrunched his brow, his vision blurring a little as his eyes pricked with tears. Bev winked. “I’ll also know why the kid’s first word is cunt, but what the hell? Might as well learn from the fucking best.”

         Nigel laughed, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. He opened his mouth to speak when the door banged open.

         “Bev? Adam called me. You OK, baby? I stopped by the deli to get that matzah soup you lik-” Darko froze when he saw Nigel and Bev cuddled on the couch. His eyes darted from their teary eyes to the large hand still on Bev’s stomach. Darko sighed. “Please tell me you’re not leaving me for him. I don’t think I can handle Adam on my own.” 

         Nigel rolled his eyes and pulled Bev into a hug. He flipped Darko off as he kissed the side of Bev’s head.

         “I’m fucking sorry, Bev. The baby’s going to be at least 50% asshole,” Nigel whispered into her hair.

         Bev laughed, shoving Nigel as he moved to get up. “Alright, get out. Phil and I have to discuss which room is going to be the nursery.”

         “We’ve already talked about that! The back room with the good sunlight. We had that settl-” Darko choked on his own words, eyes going wide. The bag of soup slipped from his hands, Nigel managed to grab it before it hit the floor.

         “Congratulations, you fuck,” Nigel smiled, sitting the soup on the coffee table and playfully nudging his statue of a friend as he walked out the door.

         Darko just stared for a long moment, his mouth forming words his brain wouldn’t release. Finally, he managed one. 

         “Bev?”

         She smiled and nodded, just once. Darko rushed forward, grabbing her head in his hands and pressing kisses all over her face. He started laughing, pulling her into his arms as tears spilled down his cheeks. She shifted, moving to sit in his lap and gently brushing his tears away with her fingertips.

         “I should go to the doctor’s to be sure. It’s just one test.”

         “But do you think you’re pregnant?”

         “Yeah, I do.”

         Darko let out a shaking breath, his smile bright. He buried his face in Bev’s neck.

                                                  -XXX-

         Bev threaded her fingers through Darko’s hair, smiling at the man curled around her stomach, whispering little secrets to her bellybutton. “Why didn’t you tell me you were worried?”

         Darko looked up, frown on his face. “What?”

         “Nigel said you were worried it took us so long. You never said anything about it to me.”

         Darko stroked her stomach one more time. “Excuse me, Junior. I’ve got to talk to mama.”

         Bev rolled her eyes, but laughed anyway. Darko army crawled up her body, elbows framing her as he shimmied. He stopped briefly to press a kiss to the silver microscope that hung around her neck before moving up to her face.

         “You wanted to see me?”

         Bev fought very hard to keep the grin off her face. “Why didn’t you talk to me? I have to be easier to talk to than Nigel.”

         Darko sighed, he seemed very interested in the pillowcase by her head all of a sudden. “It was just one more thing, wasn’t it? One more reason for you to go.”

         Bev frowned, it felt like he’d struck her. “What?”

         “I know why you turned down those people.”

         “What people?”

         “The ones who took us to dinner, asked if you’d be interested in running for county commissioner.” Bev reached up to touch Darko’s face, but he caught her wrist, eyes sad. “Hard to get elected if your husband’s a former drug dealer.”

         “Stop.”

         “What if someone finds out when the kid’s in school?”

         “Phil, stop.” She pulled her hand back, he wouldn’t look at her.

         “Is that why you’re taking the job at Cal Tech? So no one at the Sheriff’s Department goes digging?”

         “They know.”

         Darko gaped at her, eyes wide.

         “I told Jim when I knew you were it.” Bev used Darko’s shock to her advantage, twisting her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. She pecked a few kisses across his chin. “He was very understanding. His kid caught a charge for possession a few years back. I wanted to make sure no one ever tried to use you against me.”

         “But-”

         “I took the job because the money is better, the healthcare is good, and I can still consult on cases. Plus, my hours are flexible, so I can do things like go to school plays or science fairs.” She paused, twisting her mouth into a grin. “Maybe surprise my husband at the office for a quickie.” 

         Darko’s eyes began to water. “I…I just thought-”

         “You’re part of the plan, idiot. You’ve been part of the plan since I saw you huffing after me in those ridiculous spandex tights.” Bev ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not holding me back, Dorko. No one has ever held me back.”

         “I worry sometimes.”

         “You worry all the fucking time.” Bev bopped him on the nose. “I’m not Nigel, I can take care of myself. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know when you’re worried. You tell me before you tell Nigel, you understand?”

         Darko nodded, his face solemn. “If we have trouble with the next one, I promise I’ll talk to you before I tell fuckface.”

         “THE NEXT ONE?” Bev spluttered. “How many Dalca brats am I looking at here, Phil?”

         Darko frowned, tapping his finger to his chin in thought. “How many do we need to start an American football team?”

         Bev laughed, shoving him off her. “Let’s get through this one, first. Then we can discuss franchising.”

         He settled his hand back on her stomach, tapping lightly. “You hear that, Junior? Be good so mama won’t mind expanding the team.”

         Bev thumped him in the shoulder. “Stop with the Junior bullshit. We don’t even know it’s a boy.”

         Darko laughed, face incredulous. “Boy? It’s not a fucking boy. It’s a girl, Beverly Hettienne Katz Junior!”

         Beverly raised an eyebrow, Darko frowned.

         “What? Beverly Katz II sounds dumb.” His fingers began stroking her stomach again. “She’s going to be so fucking smart, Bev. She’ll know all about dead bodies and space... Nigel and I can teach her how to spot skunk weed.”

         Bev smacked him. Darko shrugged.

         “We can also teach her how to beat the shit out of someone or avoid security cameras? What do you think?”

         “I think you’re fucking ridiculous.” Bev whispered, but she could already picture a little girl in Darko’s arms, someone that would love him as much as she did. “And I think we’re both lucky your ours.”

         “I’ve been yours since the day we met.” Darko pulled her close, hand slipping under her pajama bottoms. “Want me to prove it?”

         Bev smiled, leaning into the familiar warmth of his touch.

         “Always.”

[ace-dameron]

Just a little TA/Student Malec! AU which was written for my dearest @oddieodelia for her birthday. (Posted at her request, mind you.) Subsequent stories to follow, possibly?

As soon as he stepped into the lecture hall, he stuck out like a sore thumb. The judgmental stares occurred and some disdainful whispers and a few not-so-subtle finger points in his direction soon followed. Great. Just what he wanted. To stick out so painfully in a place where he wanted to belong. It wasn’t easy coming to the conclusion that perhaps the reason he never wanted to date girls was because he wasn’t attracted to them. He wanted to take this class for some answers, maybe some affirmation that there wasn’t anything wrong with him after enduring a lifetime of hearing how gay people were sick, mentally and otherwise.

But in a place where he wanted acceptance, would there still be judgment? Would people second-guess his sexuality as much as he did for years? Maybe his own insecurities made it seem like others were paying such close attention, but simultaneously, the air in the room started to feel a lot thinner.

There was still time to change his mind. He didn’t need this class, right? There were so many humanities courses in the course guide. He could figure out his sexuality and what it meant on his own terms, not among a room filled with other people. And if he never did, he was sure his mother would be pleased to set him up with some random daughter of one of her friends. Alec shuddered at the thought as he darted back to the lecture hall door. He nearly collided with someone stepping into the room.

“Mm, where do you think you’re going? Class is about to start.” 

Alec inhaled deeply, steadying himself as he gazed at the beautiful man before him. “I… uh… I…” Great going, Lightwood, way to use your words.

The other man smiled softly, the corners of his kohl-lined eyes crinkling just a bit. “Can I offer you a piece of advice?” Alec nodded, not sure what the advice would exactly entail, but hopefully it would calm his suddenly wrecked nerves. “Ignore what other people think. If you want to take this class, take this class. It’s a good one.”

“How did you…?”

The stranger chuckled, hitching his messenger bag up higher on his shoulder with a ring-laden hand, “Let’s just say that this isn’t my first rodeo and I’ve seen many people ditch classes in the beginning because of the preconceived notions of others. But stay. You’ll learn a lot.” He patted Alec on the arm gently before taking his leave to the front row of the classroom. 

Alec, who didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself, went to the back of the hall, slumping down in his seat to make himself as small as he was feeling. 

The professor was a bitter looking man who requested to go by Ragnor. He seemed like a professor who didn’t take any bullshit excuses for anything, and honestly, Alec preferred that. It reminded him of the structure he had back at his private high school, The Institute. Classes without enough structure left Alec feeling off-balance. 

Ragnor introduced his TAs and the beautiful man was one of them. He was introduced as Magnus Bane, a third year graduate student who was working toward a dual degree in psychology and gender studies. Alec rolled his eyes and sighed. Naturally, the most attractive person he had met during college years would be a teacher’s assistant. And with a glance at his schedule, he discovered Magnus was specifically his TA.

Ragnor went right into a lecture after the discussion of the syllabus and introductions. He heard a few low groans throughout the lecture hall as many professors often let class out early on the first day. Ragnor made a not-so-subtle comment about real life never giving out breaks, so they shouldn’t expect any in his class.

Pulling out his notebook, he took notes while trying to not think too much about the fact that he would be having weekly discussion sections with Magnus.

On Wednesday, he walked into the small classroom and the desks were arranged in a circle. Alec suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the thought of having to look at all of his classmates. When everyone was seated, Magnus stood from the desk he was sitting in.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, I’m Magnus.” He spent a short time introducing himself more than what was allowed during the lecture on Monday morning. He talked about the research he was doing while pursuing his doctorate, his hobbies (which mainly seemed to consist of chastising his tiny mixed breed cat and alcohol), and his sexuality. 

Alec didn’t mentally cheer when Magnus mentioned being bisexual. Nope, definitely not. 

“Ragnor lets us create our own curriculum for the discussion sections. I already know most of you have a full course load and Ragnor’s course is very exam and assignment heavy, so I generally don’t add any additional work on. As long as everyone comes to class and participates in the discussion of the readings and the lectures, no assignments will be assigned and all of you will earn top marks in this section.”

Magnus handed a stack of syllabi to Alec and smiled warmly at him. He mumbled only loud enough for Alec to hear, “Glad to see you haven’t given up.”

“I do offer office hours if you want to discuss class material or just life. And if the office hours posted don’t work for you, let me know. I do have some hours available during the week, so we can arrange something.”

Alec glanced down at the hours printed on the page. Of course, he had a class during office hours. 

At the end of the class, Alec waited around to speak to Magnus. He stood toward the back as some of the others talked to him, enchanted by his presence nearly as much as Alec was. How could someone not be enchanted with Magnus Bane? He dressed as if he should be in the pages of a fashion magazine and not a classroom. His image seemed effortless, even though Alec was almost certain that pulling off those outfits and having eyeliner so crisp and sharp day after day hardly happened without a fair amount of preparation.

“Was there something that you needed, Alec?”

Alec jumped a bit, unaware that he was both staring at Magnus and utterly lost in thought. 

“Uh, yes… I… I was wondering what hours you’d be available for additional office hours. I have a lecture during the posted time.”

“Studious or anticipating that you’ll have issues with the material?” Magnus gestured for him to follow him out of the classroom. He locked the door once they were standing in the hallway, pocketing the key.

“I regularly attend the office hours for all of my classes, regardless of the material. I like to make sure I have my questions answered and that I fully understand the material.”

Magnus lifted his brow, “For all of your classes regularly? On top of classes, studying, and I’m assuming, extracurricular activities? When do you have time for sleep or for fun?”

Alec squirmed a bit, feeling as if Magnus had him under a microscope, trying to pick apart his brain on the spot. It seemed pretty prevalent with psychology majors to try to figure out how deeply fucked up the person they were talking to was. 

Magnus offered a kind smile, dropped his line of questioning when Alec remained silent on the subject, and requested to see Alec’s schedule to make things easier. Alec flushed a bit when Magnus’s eyebrow lifted with how packed the schedule already seemed to be between other office hours, classes, and activities. “I can spare an hour on Monday nights from six thirty to seven thirty, if you’re available?”

“Sounds perfect, actually,” Alec smiled as he accepted the schedule back. “Just let me know if that ever changes. Do you hold your office hours in your office or…?”

“I spend enough time in that little cupboard of a office that I share with two other TAs. Including normal office hours. How about we meet at the coffee shop on Third and State? It’ll be loud enough where people won’t care what we’re talking about and yet quiet enough that we can get something accomplished.”

Alec nodded in agreement, “So see you Monday then?”

Magnus nodded, “Monday.”

Several weeks into the semester, these Monday night meetings for coffee with Magnus had become the only thing he truly looked forward to every week. They rarely talked about class anymore as Alec found all of the information to be common sense somehow, second nature even. He, instead, focused on talking about life in general with Magnus. 

“Tell me about that first day that you almost ran me over.” Magnus said with a grin, leaning into the sofa they snagged that week. Alec tried to ignore how the sofa was basically a glorified arm chair with how little space there was and how Magnus’s thigh was touching his.

“What’s there to say?”

“Why were you leaving? I mean, I had my guess. Was I right?”

Alec shrugged, “I just walked in and felt like I didn’t belong. I felt like people were staring and whispering and I’m pretty sure there was some pointing. Story of my life, really.”

Magnus took a sip from his coffee, a thoughtful expression on his face afterward, “How so?”

Alec launched into a long tirade about how he was just never good enough for his parents. How when he brought home top marks, they weren’t good enough. How when he was student council president and captain of the lacrosse team on top of those marks and accepted into all of his top school choices, it hadn’t been enough. “They’re even harder on my sister, especially my mother.” He looked down at his hands, which were resting in his lap. “They don’t know I’m gay.”

That felt good, Alec realized. He had never admitted aloud to anyone, not even himself, that he was gay. He had alluded time and time again to it, but never actually said the word. 

“Actually, that was the first time I have ever come out, to anyone.” Alec said, looking up at Magnus.

“I feel honored, Alexander, truly.” Alec had weeks ago given up on getting Magnus to stop calling him that. It made him feel warm in a way that he couldn’t describe. It just rolled right off of Magnus’s tongue with ease. It sounded like bliss, instead of when other people said it. His parents had always used it when they were angry or upset with him, teachers used to be formal. But from Magnus, it was a revelation as if the man had invented his damn name.

Alec sighed when he knew their time together was winding to a close. It got harder and harder to just watch Magnus walk off after the hour allotment was over. Not only that, but they had a study break next Monday and Tuesday, so Alec was going home for the long weekend and unable to meet the following Monday. He didn’t want to go home, but his parents were practically demanding his presence.

“What’s on your mind?” Magnus asked softly after a few minutes of silence.

Alec glanced at his watch, “Our time is technically up.”

A flicker of hurt crossed Magnus’s face before it went blank. He stood up, grabbing his bag. “Okay, then, I’ll see you in two weeks.”

Alec let him leave, not even bothering to stop him. He chastised himself. In all reality, the age gap alone was enough to make him question his crush. There was five years between them and Magnus probably wasn’t interested in undergrads. And of course, Alec wasn’t just any undergrad, but one that Magnus was teaching, so it complicated things beyond measure.

Alec didn’t get another opportunity to see Magnus and apologize for his behavior because they weren’t having discussion section that week and Magnus wasn’t at the Wednesday morning lecture. 

Despite his best efforts, he could not get out of bed for classes on the Wednesday following his study break. He had barely managed to drive back to campus in one piece after the fiasco of a final morning that he and his family had spent together.

He had enough of his parents and their homophobic beliefs. They hadn’t been pleased at all about the course Alec was taking. And after a few opinions during their four days together, Maryse had finally snapped at him, telling him that if he wasn’t careful, he would wind up like those sick individuals. 

“Too late, Mom, I already am!” He had shouted, finally having enough of the hate. The entire house had gone silent, his siblings included. 

“You’re no son of mine.” His mother had whispered calmly before his parents had refused to say another word to him. They ignored his presence, pretending like he had evaporated into nothingness. He kind of wish he had. Isabelle had reassured him that they would get over it. That things would be better for Christmas break. 

Alec doubted that greatly. The look his mother had given him was pure disdain; something she reserved for those she truly hated. And his father went along with his mother like he always did; truly spineless in every single way.

Completely lost in his thoughts the entire way back to campus, he almost got into a car accident a few times due to simply not paying attention. Would his parents have even cared? 

With exams coming up the following week, Alec knew he couldn’t afford to miss any classes, but he had no energy in him. No fight. 

For some reason, he had drawn up some fantasy where his parents would have accepted him. And he had wanted to pretend like their feelings on the matter didn’t hurt, but they did. He had only wanted to make them proud his entire life and he had always come up short. 

When he had finally managed to getting around to moving when the sun had already dipped below the horizon, he grabbed his phone and checked his email. To his surprise, an email from Magnus was sitting in the inbox.

Alexander,

As an educator, I know my students and I know that missing both a lecture and a discussion section without prior notification is not you. Nor is missing class at all. You came to discussion section in the third week most likely running a fever from the looks of it. 

But that’s not what’s important here. I am worried about you. Please reach out to me and let me know that you’re okay. Things between the two of us ended rather sourly during our last office hours, but please do not think you cannot reach out to me, if needed.

Magnus

Alec released a shaky breath, not thinking as he made his next move. Magnus had given all of the students his cell phone number in case of emergencies. At the time, Alec had thought the other man to be insane, the move entirely careless in his mind. But Alec had put the number in his phone regardless and as he scrolled through the numbers and pressed down on Magnus’s name, he realized that perhaps he cared more for so many of them than their own parents did.

“Hello?”

“Magnus, it’s Alec.” He didn’t realize how odd he sounded until Magnus rushed to ask him if he was okay. Part of him wanted to say that he was, but he couldn’t lie. The words started pouring out of him rapidly, without an end in sight. When he finally went silent, he heard a soft curse from Magnus. 

“Listen to me, Alexander, I would love to tell you to never underestimate a parent’s love, but you’ve already seen the darkness that can happen. But one thing I want you to remember is that you are never alone. I’m not going anywhere. Even when I am no longer your TA, I will still be here. For you.”

With a hoarse voice, instead of doing something so characteristically Alec, like telling him that he didn’t need to say that, he thanked him.

“Believe it or not, I consider you so much more than a student. Our Monday nights at the coffee shop are some of the best times that I have during my week.”

Alec smiled his first smile in days, to be honest. Being home had been miserable long before Tuesday morning.  “I feel the same way. I look forward to Monday every week.”

“It’ll have to be an ongoing tradition even after the semester has ended.”

Alec felt his heart pounding a little bit harder as he suggested, “It doesn’t have to always be coffee after the semester is over. It could be dinner or a movie or something.”

He heard the fond smile in Magnus’s voice, “Are you asking me on a date, Alexander?”

Alec felt his cheeks grow hot, fumbling a little bit on his words, “I mean… we could if you… I… yeah. I am.”

Magnus chuckled, “I suppose we have something to look forward to then, don’t we?” He sobered a little, “I have plans to study with some other graduate students, but I won’t go if you aren’t going to be okay. We can continue to talk.”

“Don’t be absurd. Go study. I’m better now. See you Monday.”

“Until then. Take care of yourself, Alexander.”

“I will. Goodbye and thank you again.”

“Anytime. Bye, Alexander.”

Alec put the phone down and released a deep breath. Things might not be okay right now, but he had a feeling that they wouldn’t always be like that. He let himself go to sleep with the thought of a date, in the near the future, with Magnus Bane.

[darkenrose-s]

Unexpected- chapter 6

While living in England you had a brief affair with a criminal. Not just any criminal but one wanted by governments and secret agency’s. In those brief moments you were together you helped heal each other. Now amost a year later you meet him again in the most unlikly place. Living in your Godfather tower.

thoughts

Warning- swearing.

–//–//–//–//–

You spend a lot of time with Tony. After him and the team came upon you and Bucky in the living room, he’s been strangely quieter then usual. You had spent a long night and most of the next day discussing with him, about the fight between you and the terminator. You’d told him that you and Bucky were both adults and able to talk without inflicting war on each other. Tony didn’t like it. Didn’t like that you and Barnes were clearly more then distant acquaintances. He didn’t like that he was starting to notice that on the few times all three of you were in a room together, the ex-assassin seemed to follow you like a flower facing the sun.

–//–//–//–//–

You groan as you tried to stretch out on the bed. Feeling the now familiar pull in your arm you wince and hiss through your teeth. You stifle a yawn, still tired after going to bed early. Healing definitely takes it out of you. It had been nearly two months since you where shot and you were sure the drugs they kept giving you, to fight infection and to lessen the pain were making you ill. You figured you might have caught a bug of something, and your body was to busy fixing your arm to fight against it aswell. You made a mental note to ask Bruce about it later when you went you a check up. Your stomach rolled dramatically as you sprang towards the bathroom. You were mentally glad that Bucky wasn’t in the room with you. You couldn’t deal with his concerned hovering right now. How Steve ever managed him in that mode, you will never know. You don’t throw up but you don’t make any plans to stray far from the bathroom. Maybe you’ve eaten something the meds didn’t like? You drink a glass of water slowly hoping it will settle the party in your stomach.

–//–//–//–//–

You watched as Bruce made up a needle ready to take your blood. A requirement to see if it is the new meds that are making you ill. You squirm nervously. The first time he had taken blood you stared giggling uncontrollably. Tony had been with you and had freaked out. “How can she be laughing with you sticking that great thing in her arm?! ” he had squawked eye the large needle like it was something terrifying. It was. This time Bruce had shooed him away, you had found he can be quite manipulative when he wanted to be. Bruce had this ability to look at everything he was dealing with like it was something under a microscope, whether it was new technology or a human. He took your arm and you wonder if the other guy, the Hulk, skin would be as warm? You don’t voice this random question. Bruce gets flighty when question about his alter ego, only Tony gets away with it, mainly because he has no filter most of the time. When he is finished he hands you some ginger tea. You sign. You miss English tea. You miss your tiny flat and your kettle and your bed and your fluffy blankets. You miss home. To your horror you feel your eyes start to tear. You brush them away before Bruce notices. Bruce confirms that it will be a few hours before he gets results and you shuffle off for a nap before Tony is let back into the lab.

–//–//–//–//–

You wake to the sound of your phone dinging. You check the time and find that four hours have flown by. Wow, I didn’t know I was that exhausted. You think to yourself as you check the message. Bruce wants you back in the lab, somethings has come up with the results and he’s distracted Tony away from the lab. You yawn and stretch before shuffling out of the door. You feel a bit better, maybe the tea worked. When you arrive at the lab, it quiet and Bruce hustles you into a chair looking equal parts adorably flustered and a tad embarrassed. He leans heavily against the glass worktop in front of you, he holds his glasses in one hand and absently chews on one of the ends while he thinks about what he has to ask you. “Y/n. I’ve for some abnormalities in your blood work. One I think I can identify, but erm,  while you’ve been here, after you were injured, have you-did you,” his face flushes more, and he moves his hands around like he is trying to grasp the words he needs from thin air. It’s a very Tony move and you start to wonder just how many hours a day the two spend together.  “Say it scientifically if it’s easier. I’m sure I’ll get it.” He shoots you a small smile. You figure being shot and being in the meds have made the abnormalities in the test and try not to worry about it. “Have you had sex in the last five weeks?” He says in a rush “See that wasn’t so-” you stop when you realise what he had said. You already feel heat racing to your face. He didn’t say that, did he? “Excuse me?” “Have you had sex, lately?” He says slower. If the ground could open up and swallow you, now would be a good time. “What does that have to do with anything?” Even to yourself you sound a bit hysterical. You look around the room. Searching for Tony or Bucky or someone to jump out at you. “Everything” Bruce gives you a patient look, you’ve seen him give it to Tony many times. You blink at him in hopes he would carry on. “It looks like you could be, pregnant.” He watches you for a reaction but you only blink at him. It’s like he’s saying words at you and you don’t understand any of it. Bruce shifts uncomfortably under your gaze. “I’m not this kind of doctor. I can send for a proper medical doctor if you want. This kind of thing isn’t my field.” You continue blinking at him. “Y/n.” He gets no response, as your own brain highlights the word pregnant. “Y/n?!” “Can’t be.” You blurt out, half in thought. “I can’t be.” You start again, “ I got the, the thing,” you gestures wildly to your arm. Your bandaged arm. You stop and stare at it like it had personally betrayed you. “Implant. Must have been a million to one chance.” Bruce mutters softly, watching you process. Fuck.

–//–//–//–//–

You had sneaked out and brought a few home test, while Bruce was contacting the proper doctors. He was adamant that you needed one and while he was ok at patching people up (normally under protest) it wasn’t his field. He wasn’t a medical doctor. You sat on your bed, knees to your chest, one arm around them the other holding the last test you did. The first had been positive, the second negative. Why in the hell was this test not staying still long enough for you to read? Was that a + or a - ? What kind of crappy test is this?! You couldn’t make out what the last one said. Have I given it long enough? What if it was negative? What if it was positive? Can I be responsible for a defenceless life? I’ve got by on your own up to now but it wasn’t easy. What if this kid hated you? What if I’m a rubbish parent and they grow up to hate us both? I’d have to tell James. What would he say? What would James say?! This will  be his child too. How am I going to tell him? What am I going to say? What if he doesn’t want this? I could look after this child anyway. If he didn’t want it. You took a deep breath. Glancing at the test again. Oh. Looks like I will would be looking after my child anyway. You felt hot and cold and joy and fear. Oh god, oh god, oh god. What am I going to do?! You pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders. What if I’m a bad parent? I’ve never held a baby before, how can I look after my own? Oh god, oh god. What am I going to tell Bucky? What about Tony?! He’s going to hate me forever. Oh god, oh g- WAIT! I don’t remember putting a blanket on. You cautiously look around to find a fluffy blanket around your shoulder. The last time you saw it, it was in your chair by the bed. You glance at it and find it occupied. You freeze. Your brain makes a squawk in surprise and the only words it forms is fuck. His beautiful blank face stares at you. You blink slowly. Maybe he hasn’t noticed what you’re holding? Yeah try to carefully lower your arm without him noticing. How long has he been here? How did I not see him come in? Stupid sneaky assassins. “Is there something you want to share with me.” He never takes his eyes off of you. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Maybe?” You say slowly. You had wanted to confirm it with Bruce’s doctor friends, wanted to come to terms with it yourself before telling anyone. In truth you’re absolutely terrified right now. A child. “I thought you couldn’t-” he inclined his head to where you tried to hide the test away. “Lucky shot.” You try to laugh. Bucky stands and moves to sit beside you on the bed, curving his arms around you and tucking his chin into your shoulder. He reaches around and pulls out your hand and its death grip on the test. The small plus sign is bold. His arms tighten around you and you rest your head against his. “Bruce is looking for a doctor, to confirm it, he says this isn’t his field. ” You’re not sure how he will react. You’re still not completely ok after your fight, what if this sparks it up again? You wait for him to leave. To yell at you. To freak out. Part of you still wants to freak out. Bucky sign heavily and buries his face in your neck. His human arm pulls you securely against him. “Then we wait.” He says and you think you feel a small twitch of a grin on his face from where it presses against you.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

16 Style Epiphanies Every Man Goes Through

http://fashion-trendin.com/16-style-epiphanies-every-man-goes-through/

16 Style Epiphanies Every Man Goes Through

It’s a long drive down this road we call life, and along the way, your brain will absorb constant gems of new information, sometimes without you even noticing. Little tidbits that will serve you well until your dying day.

Some of these will be microscopic practical realisations – don’t stare at the sun, don’t drink yellow snow, don’t tattoo your neck – while some may unlock the answers to bigger philosophical questions. And, of course, others will just be simple lessons in how not to dress like a plonker. Like these 16 style epiphanies all men discover sooner or later.

Not Every Item Needs To Make A Statement

Hawaiian shirt, yellow flip-flops, colour-pop pleated trousers – these don’t spell out ‘Doctor of Fashion’, they spell out ‘man who had nervous breakdown’. The lesson here is quite simple: don’t dress like you’re on a mountain of drugs.

If you do want to experiment with something a little more Liberace, choose a single statement piece and build around it with classic, pared-back items.

Copying Other People Doesn’t Work

On some level, we are all an accumulation of influences from people cooler than us, but ape your friends (or celebrities) at your peril.

Not only will everyone notice and start nudging each other when you’re not looking, but it can also trigger a ripple effect that ends with one of you in prison and the other one in a witness protection programme. No one likes to get Single White Femaled. Especially men.

You’re Either An Earring Guy, Or You’re Not

There’s no exact science to men’s jewellery, and unfortunately, it’s not something you can accurately predict without going through the barbaric rigmarole of having someone else spear a needle through your earlobe first.

Then, and only then, will you be able to assess whether you’re an earring guy or not accurately. Harrison Ford, for example, is not an earring guy, no matter how hard his left ear tries to convince us.

Suits Don’t Always Look Smart

You think you look like James Bond emerging from the ocean (yes, in a suit) before wandering into a bar to order a martini or casually kill a guy. But get it wrong and you look more like a 16-year-old who went to prom in his dad’s suit.

If it doesn’t fit you or suit your body type, it’s no better than a matching velour tracksuit. Two words: find a good tailor. Okay, granted, that’s actually four words, but you get the point.

Sometimes The Most Simple Outfit Is The Most Stylish

It can be easy to get caught up in the insane whims of fashion, as you find yourself making a grand entrance in a sarong and what looks like a dressing gown.

But there’s a reason why all the fashion greats, from Steve McQueen to James Dean, kept it simple. Because it just works. It’s amazing how far you can get in pair of straight-cut jeans, a well-cut tee and a cool jacket.

Your Hair Should Not Be Overcomplicated

There’s not a jury in the world willing to forgive frosted tips, or a gelled-down fringe, or that weird phase you went through with the blond stripe down the middle, or the spiky front bit and the soft, feathery back.

The key to good hair is to understand how yours works with your face and to stick to the simplest and most obvious cut there is – side partings, French crops, slick backs. Under no circumstances should you give your hairdresser carte blanche to dick around.

Not All Trousers Actually Look Good On You

Twisted denim, distressed denim, basic denim – denim has so many different moods. Then there’s skinny jeans, hideous bootcut styles, raw denim, turn-ups, turn-downs, cropped trousers, baggy trousers, high-waisted trousers, chinos, slacks and cords shaped like carrots.

There are innumerable styles on offer for your bottom half. And while you’ll no doubt try them all (to varying degrees of success) over the years, the ultimate aim is to know your style, size and age to avoid looking like a clown.

Nose Hair Is As Important As Head Hair

It’s a phenomenon that has baffled grooming bods since cavemen used hinged shells to tweeze whiskers from their face. From around the age of 30, men’s hair starts to migrate from where they want it (their heads) to where they don’t, chiefly their ears and noses.

The rule is this: if you can see it, so can everyone else. In that case, arm yourself with some nose trimmers and get, well, trimming.

Getting Stuff Tailored Makes A Huge Difference

Here’s a public service announcement: it isn’t just suits that can benefit from a trip to the tailors.

T-shirts, coats and even jeans, can be adjusted to contour your arms and legs perfectly. And is there a man in the world who doesn’t like having his arms and legs perfectly contoured? The answer to that rhetorical question, if you haven’t put two and two together, is no.

Trends Aren’t As Good As A Signature Style

At some point during your sartorial puberty, crackling light bulbs will start repeatedly exploding above your head, as you realise that you have developed your own nose for what looks good, and no longer feel the need to tick off every seasonal trend.

It’s like you’ve chucked your armbands out of the window, or enjoyed the ritual burning of bicycle stabilisers. You’re a man now. And best of all, the light bulbs bit was a metaphor, so there’s not even any cleaning up to do.

In Grooming, Less Is More

When it comes to your wardrobe, there are benefits to being both a minimalist and a maximalist. The same doesn’t apply to your grooming regime.

Before most guys hit the sweet spot with a streamlined, but effective, routine, they switch from thinking a single block of soap covers does it all to leaving the house with oil-slick hair, enough cologne to double up as chloroform and eyebrows plucked to resemble two dancing sperms. You better hope they grow back.

You Need Three Coats Maximum

The way things are going with the world, you probably only need two coats. One heavyweight overcoat that will keep you warm during the (nuclear) winter. Then another, much lighter one, for when climate change forces us all to live in a smouldering, volcanic microclimate.

But what the hell: in the short term, why not allow yourself an extra, medium strength one for autumn – such as a classic trench.

Different Hairstyles Stop Being Cool After A Certain Age

Could you imagine David Attenborough with a man bun? Or Nick Jonas with a set of Trump-esque barbershop sweepings on his head? No and No. The reason for this is clear.

Certain hairstyles work for certain ages. There’s no science to it, it’s just true. Which also means that different hairstyles stop being cool after a certain number of candles. Trust us, you’ll see.

You Can’t Shop Everywhere

Building a perfectly curated wardrobe involves a lot of trial and error. Unfortunately, at least for the early stages, it’s often more of the latter. During this time you’ll go through Oxford shirts baggier than a bag of bags, and jeans tight enough to turn your gonads into gone-nads.

Rather than stand to point our your alien-like proportions, this teaches that some stores just ain’t for you. Whether you’re a rugby guy or anything-but-big-and-tall, find where does the best-fitting in every core basic. It’s knowledge that will serve you well for decades.

Show Your Feet Some Respect

Just as a princess has to kiss a lot of frogs before they find their prince, you will likely have to work your way through a conveyor belt of bad shoes before you find the ones that fit you perfectly – like Cinderella and her glass slipper.

Fairytale metaphors aside, the point is this: if you want to expedite the process, avoid extreme shapes – particularly anything too pointy or too square.

Cheaper Is Rarely Ever Better

There comes a time when the mountain of man-made fibres zapping you with a thousand static shocks every time you reach into the wardrobe is going to need to be replaced – a single stray spark and those things are bursting into flames.

Bid farewell to cheap garments (which, of course, is different to inexpensive) and say goodbye to the constant threat of combustion by instead investing in a small cluster of well-made items that will stand the test of time.

[civrilla]

we are one :

spectracy’s ( sense8 ) inspired squad // diverse playbys // diverse ages // diverse membergroups // all open! //

eight strangers from different walks of life and situations, suffering through their own struggles and secrets until they suddenly develop a sensory link. and everything changes as quickly as one can blink: they feel joy for no reason, pain when they have none, sorrow with no explanation but the tears still fall. they’re speaking languages they haven't even heard, throwing fists when they never learned how to punch, and they find themselves in unrecognizable places but they don't feel lost. skills, emotions, sensations, they're bleeding, mixing, washing themselves into one another’s veins, marking the very beginning -- their rebirth as a piece of a suddenly combined brain.

-- the ability of the sensory link is that of a bewitching character, and i’m thinking that it probably recently awoke for these characters after they started coming into contact with one another. so there’s bound to be quite a few of them that have always thought they were bereft until they found this fun surprise, and/or some witches who got stuck with one kind of crappy gift only to find out they also have this, or somebody who’s been dealing with a really shitty curse only to find out they now have this to deal with as well. 

-- keep in mind: all the roles can completely be adjusted! it’s more or less me spitting out different ideas, rather than anything set in stone. stuff can be genderbent and changed to fit your concepts -- no worries! however, it’s important to me that the characters are all of varying personality types and, hopefully, backgrounds. that’s what i’ve tried to achieve with the roles you see here. you’ve got some good guys, and some sort-of-not-so-good guys.

THE CHARMING, taken by eos → pretty boy who was born in a cage that looks like a castle. prince, why are you so afraid of the destiny that awaits you? your name will inscribe itself onto the earth, onto the seas, and your bloodline will shake the very ground. so how come you're so scared to take the crown? your parents are giving you their kingdom, so long as you be a good boy and never frown. → your voice is husky honeyed sweeter than sugar, a symphony played by a single instrument, a raga with no notes. people are hypnotized and enamored, they never want you to stop talking. almost. herein lies your greatest strength: being the enchanter. open your mouth, and you can attract an entire room's attention, capture an innocent's heart, sway enemies to change their alliance mid-battle. you are the prince charming, able to weave straw words into gold. → herein lies your weakness: you're just a guy with a lot of stuff. learn to patch up that hole inside you, sweet prince, before it finally swallows you up.

❖  nice table manners, basically ur real stereotypical prince charming

❖  #1 smooth-talker; his other biggest skill is telling you which fancy fork to eat your salad with

❖  has been catered to his whole life (wants to be independent but poor boy doesn’t even know how to work a microwave or washing machine, 911 send h e l p)

THE PROTECTING, taken by piper → little guardian, you were always brandishing a shield for the weak and the fallen. but you must always remember: you’re just flesh and a beating heart and bright eyes, you are not indestructible. you can not save everyone. bones break under heavy weight. even atlas couldn't carry the world forever. put the weight down, sweet girl. you are not a titan. you are human. you are so human it hurts.

→ maybe in another universe there is no darkness, no bad guys, no all-encompassing doom. maybe in another universe, you don't have the weight of the world on your shoulders. but, unfortunately, in this world, you do. herein lies your strength: you're the mother hen, the shield, the one who keeps others stable. you may not be able to brandish a sword, but you can still cradle cheeks with gentle hands and whisper encouragements to those with sad smiles. to win a war, there must always be someone like you: a bright soul in the backdrop, who watches over the soldiers and nudges them back in line when they get off course.

→ herein lies your greatest weakness: you're so busy protecting others that you forget to shield yourself. little guardian, this world is nasty and cruel and will eat you up; why do you always forget that if you don't protect yourself, you're going to burn up?

❖  mother hen

❖  occupation maybe tied to protecting others? like a cop?

❖  forgets to protect herself? this could lead to something? idk

THE FIGHTING, open → there are two versions of you that people notice. the first is the one where you are all sharp angles, making yourself even sharper. you smile with razor blade teeth whenever someone gets cut, a danger and warning all in one. but if others stick around long enough, there are times where you will touch pretty faces with careful fingers, eyes like stars and a heart as big as the solar system, wiping the red off their cheekbones. you never minded getting a little blood on your hands, after all. → brave warrior, how come each syllable that falls from your lips has a sharp edge? barbs that scathe and bite with angry, mottled bruises left in their wake. a stain and poison, your own skin covered in battle wounds. who are you fighting, if not yourself? herein lies your greatest strength: you know how to throw a killer punch. little warrior, you've always done more talking through bloody knuckles than your mouth. hello morphs not into good-bye but an undecipherable look with a bitten-back tongue and hands in fists and knuckles embedded in the skin of a clenched jaw. → herein lies your greatest weakness: no one taught you how to stop. anger has always been your greatest enemy, hanging in your life like a backdrop. don't you see what's wrong here, little warrior? once you start fighting, you don't stop. not until someone's stopped breathing, and you're the champion at the top.

❖  one hell of a fighter

❖  but doesn’t know when to stop throwing the punches

❖  boy’s got some serious anger issues

THE HEALING, open → you heal wounds and skinned knees. you help others, but you, yourself, are not something to be mended. after all, you always tell yourself that the only person who can decide whether or not you need fixing is you. those who keep trying to find places to repair, who twist with screwdriver questions and hammer with sharp words, are not trying to help you, girl of gold. they are trying to help themselves, and you have turned from project to person. let them go. make them let go of you. → golden girl, herein lies your greatest strength: you've always been notorious for mending the broken. your childhood was spent playing doctor, operating on your extensive collection of stuffed animals. → repairing others is some sort of sickly-sweet remedy, because when you heal others, you like to think that it's slowly healing these fractures lying beneath your skin too. herein lies your greatest weakness: you think that healing others will heal yourself. it won't, little golden girl. it never will.

❖  has medical skills (doesn’t strictly have to work within medical field tho)

❖  thinks healing others will heal her broken soul, so sad :’(

THE THINKING, open → one must wonder what kind of past could have given birth to this: a heart restrained by wrought iron, with love scrutinized as though it can be explained in a formula and living beings studied underneath a microscope. darling girl, why do you detach yourself from the world like so? the thing about you is that you come off cold, too blunt, insensitive -- sometimes people wonder if you're really even human at all. → you have a beautiful brain, bursting with curiosity, and theories, and numbers, and knowledge, and you're logical to a fault. herein lies your strength: you're so damn smart. you've devoted yourself to the pursuit of knowing, to understanding, to learning. you may be distant, but you have taught yourself so much -- you know, at the very least, how to sharpen words into a point to drive through a heart. → lonely little girl, herein lies your weakness: this thirst for knowledge has tainted your blood. you have such a big heart but you're afraid that your studies are all that you will ever love.

❖  kinda sacrificed a social life in the pursuit for knowledge

❖  hence she has p much zero social skills

❖   big heart but unable to find love

THE RUNNING, taken by emri → this blood, this fear, this constant running, running, running. dear boy, what did you ever do but hide with shaky legs and then run with them? shaking still, feet always flying over the ground, looking over your shoulder and expecting to see a shadow chasing after you. what made you this way? why are you so afraid? → you're a retreating form disappearing into the inevitable darkness, your back broken from the weight of all the burdens you try to carry. but herein lies your greatest strength: you're the quickest -- perhaps, not the bravest -- and you can get so far on those two shaking legs, if you only try. hiding from shadows has taught you something too, darling boy: you know how to keep your head low so as to be unnoticed in a crowd, how to find the best scraps in a cold dumpster in an alley, how to scout out the best safe place in the stark coldness of night. → herein lies your greatest weakness: you can't run too far before you need your fix. fingers cracked and bleeding from the way you try to scratch away the concrete walls that cement you into darkness. little runner, don't you know? the drugs are not your savior. they'll ruin you, you know. stop shrouding yourself in fear and anguish, you're so much brighter when you smile. why can't you just stop running away, even for a little while?

❖  an addict maybe?

❖  the #1 hands-down at navigating the streets and making yourself invisible

THE DECEIVING, taken by cirilla → darling, you've been kissed with a large dark stain upon your heart. it crushes you into tiny glittering pieces, and you twirl through the air. what did this to you? why do you think this darkness inside you is actually okay? → so, you've faced darkness. you've swallowed the nights that ripped you to pieces, and swam laps in the broken glass of peoples' words. herein lies your greatest strength: you've learned how not to flinch when facing the pain, and are the best at elaborate facades. deceit sears through your very veins. you've hidden your wounds behind such a pretty mask, twirling and spinning, finely-dressed smiles spilling from your mouth. they might call you a princess -- a blinding beauty -- and, oh, how easily white knights mistake girls dressed like a daydream as soft and sensitive and needing saving. → remember this: you may be able to disguise your sharp smile behind colorful lips and pretty dresses, but one day, someone's going to come along, and they'll see past it all. but herein lies your greatest weakness: you've built your throne on your show and darling, it’s gone on for so long. how do you stop this performance? when will you finish singing the song?

❖  damn good at lying and acting

❖   but how do you find true friends or love when no one knows who is actually you underneath?

THE CHEATING, open → dark eyes and a dark heart, nature has molded you into a target; strike like an arrow. in this world, you get beaten up or you learn to fight tough, because life does not go easy on you. there is a fire fueling your veins, and you let it run wild, but you must learn to contain it, wild girl, before it consumes you up. → you have a lot in common with the others: you've faced darkness and come out on top, you've lied your way through things, and you've fought hard enough. but herein lies your greatest strength: you've actually not done it at all all. you're quite the filthy cheater; when you've had your nails freshly painted, you're not eager to enter a brawl. scheming is your strong-suit, it's all about the details, picking apart the puzzles until you find the opponent's critical weakness. everything is a game, but when no one's looking, you're the wild girl who likes to change the rules. → the problem with cheating is, once you find success, you refuse to play fair. herein lies your greatest weakness: you're falling deeper and deeper into this ring of fire, so before long, you're going to hit rock-bottom. fiery heart, what made you this way? why did you start changing the rules to games, dancing on the lines of danger, tempting the hand of fate?

❖  probably addicted to gambling and her luck’s bound to run out

❖  has one hell of a poker face

❖ master of drawn-out schemes and switching opponents’ cards when they aren’t looking -- sneaky, sneaky.