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seasonofthewicth · 3 years

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A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 15

AN: This chapter takes us over the 60k line, and I never expected this fic to get this long! We’re finally at the date! The date!!! Please nobody throw anything at me (even virtually)...

masterlist - ao3 - my askbox

“My saviour.”

Aelin hurried her final few steps through the hallway towards where Dorian stood, her heels clacking along the linoleum flooring and echoing through the now silent hallways of the school.

“Thank you,” She gasped as she closed her fingers around the royal blue mug he held in an outstretched hand and the scent of freshly brewed coffee swirled around her. She breathed it in deeply as she took her first sip, relaxing into the rich taste and the anticipation of the caffeine induced energy boost she knew was imminent.

“Anytime.” Dorian’s smile was charming as he slid into place beside her as they headed to the corridor bearing both of their classrooms.

“I needed this,” Aelin spoke as they covered ground. “Rutting Fenrys rushed me out the loft so quickly this morning, something about an early meeting with Maeve, as if that’s somehow more important than coffee.”

Aelin shrugged as she finished, her main concern with the rush had been that she had missed out on her second cup of coffee this morning, but Dorian’s brow pulled in tight.

“Is he-” He cleared his throat as his walk slowed. “Is everything alright?”

Aelin slowed her pace to match the crawl Dorian had adopted and she tilted her head to the side to shoot him a look of confusion. It wasn’t like Dorian to stumble over his words.

“Yes, I think so,” Aelin began slowly. “He mentioned something about funding for a trip. For one of the sports teams maybe, I- Why are you blushing?”

A delightful, soft rose tint had graced the planes of Dorian’s high cheekbones. He turned away from her slightly but Aelin shot out a hand to grasp his bicep and pulled him back around to face her.

Aelin tugged him to a stop as she said, “Explain.”

Dorian brought a hand up to brush back one of the raven curls draped across his forehead. “I think I’m going on the trip too.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes, suspicion burying its hooks deep within her. “Why would you volunteer to go on a school trip outside of work time? And a sports trip at that.”

A flicker of expression shadowed his face before he carefully schooled it into calm. “Fenrys and I have been… speaking.”

Dorian phrased it like a question and Aelin’s mouth dropped open in an onset of shock.

“You and Fenrys speaking? Like… you and Fenrys?”

Dorian nodded. “I think so.”

“How did I not know this?” Aelin cried. “Is everyone keeping their relationship a secret from me?”

“Aelin,” Dorian began his walk again and she hurried to keep up. “It’s not a relationship, we’ve mostly just been texting. No big deal and-”

“It is a big deal,” Aelin interjected. She held her free hand up in surrender when he shot her an unimpressed look.

“It’s not a big deal, and it’s nothing serious.” He told her with an air of finality and she knew not to push it any further.

Aelin had known of their brief hook-up years before she had got the job at the school, but she had to admit she hadn’t expected anything more to bloom between the two.

It had, quite possibly, been a bit of an oversight on her behalf. She had noticed Fenrys perking up whenever Dorian was mentioned, and he had always found a reason to appear whenever she had brought Dorian around to the loft.

Even most recently in the hospital, he had jerked to attention the moment she had mentioned Dorian.

“You scoundrel,” She said with the beginnings of a wicked grin, unable to resist one last taunt. “Using a school funded trip as a romantic getaway with your man.”

Dorian only winked at her, “Would you expect anything less?”

Aelin laughed, the sound a sinful cackle. From Dorian and Fenrys? No, probably not.

“And,” He continued. “You can’t talk about keeping secrets. You’ve gone radio silent on Rowan recently, and I bet if anything bad had happened I would know about it.”

It was Aelin’s turn to blush. She hadn’t told anyone Rowan had asked her on a date yet. She had wanted to keep it just to herself for a little while, at least until after the date had occurred.

He had asked her out a couple of days ago now, but with Aelin working in the daytime and the majority of Rowan’s shifts being concentrated in the evenings, they were still yet to find a chance. Aelin was bursting with anticipation and she had struggled to sleep during most of the nights since their recent encounter in the kitchen.

An element of her insomnia was the excitement, her anticipation to finally be on a date with Rowan, but a large part, arguably the largest part, was the knowledge that Rowan slept just across the hall from her. It would be so easy for her to tiptoe across the space and into his room, into his bed, and to be faced with Rowan.

Rowan who she had now kissed, who she had been pressed up against, the heat of his body burning every inch of her own. But she knew she couldn’t cross that gap, both physically and metaphorically. At least not yet anyway.

Rowan had been the one to press the brakes on the two of them, and Aelin knew it was coming from a place of respect rather than a lack of desire, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult to temper the part of her brain that wanted to throw all caution to the wind and-

“Damn,” Dorian laughed. “It must be really bad for you to end up that inside your own head.”

Aelin bit her lip. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Lysandra, but surely telling Dorian couldn’t hurt.

“Just promise me you won’t tell Fenrys.”

“Gods, that bad?” Dorian joked.

“It’s not bad, just don’t tell him.” She said simply.

Dorian nodded his agreement. “Promise.”

“It’s not bad at all,” She began with a coy smile. “He asked me on a date.”

Dorian’s returning smile was wide as he took her in. “Took him long enough,” was all he said with a slight laugh, before he continued, “When?”

“The weekend.”

Aelin knew she wore a doelike smile, one she couldn’t help at the thought of Rowan. She was excited, sue her. It felt like she had been waiting for herself and Rowan to reach this point since she moved into the loft, and their relationship had only gone from strength to strength since she moved in. It felt as if her anticipation was reaching the climax, but there was relief that went hand in hand with it.

Rowan was right along with her, treading steadily by her side as they stepped down the path of whatever it was that was coming their way.

He had been the one to kiss her, and the one to ask her on a date. Aelin knew where she stood with him, and where he stood with her, for the first time in what felt like a long time and the feeling was reassuring; it allowed her to relax into the excitement she held.

“What are you doing?” Dorian asked. “Something outdoors?”

“Why something outdoors?” Aelin laughed and Dorian shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know, seems to fit Rowan.”

Aelin laughed again, she knew Rowan enjoyed the outdoors, maybe slightly more than the average individual, but she wasn’t sure something like that was what he had meant when he had promised to plan something nice.

“No,” Aelin said, pausing to take a sip of her coffee. “I think we’re getting dinner.”

She still struggled to contain the smile that wanted to dawn, the joy that ran through her at the thought was almost childlike and free.

“The classic,” Dorian teased, but Aelin was unbothered. She truly didn’t care whether or not Rowan took her for a simple dinner or an extravagant adventure. Spending time with him was enough.

“Shut up,” She laughed, swatting the air between them. “I’ve got further than you.”

“Now that’s not exactly true, is it?”

Aelin snorted, almost spitting her drink across the hallway. Dorian’s smile was perfectly innocent, no sign of the act his comment was alluding to and she shook her head.

It wouldn’t be long, Aelin was sure, until she and Rowan were there too.

The week had dragged on for Rowan. A seemingly endless cycle of mindless shifts at the bar, and stealing snippets of time with Aelin in the loft during the limited hours they were both in the apartment. The time they shared had never seemed so brief as now when he craved her so.

Rowan had enjoyed those stolen moments, filled with the desire to simply reach out and touch. He longed to kiss her lips again, but he had promised he would only do so after their date.

He had settled himself to tracing his fingertips down the line of her hand, tracing the delicate lines and pathways of her veins beneath her golden skin. He had allowed himself the pleasure of tucking a rogue lock of hair behind her ear, and relished in the spark that bloomed within him when he lightly caressed his thumb down the shell of her ear.

Rowan longed for their date, and for the end of the night that would inevitably follow. The date itself was a long time coming to Rowan, and he didn’t wish to rush through it, he wanted to savour the moment and the image of Aelin sat beautifully across from him, but there was an impatience within him for the part that came after.

The part where he would finally allow himself the sweet touch of Aelin’s lips against his own once again.

He had managed to drift through the week, spurred on by the evernearing climax he could sense along the horizon. Rowan had managed to trade his Saturday night shift with an older bartender named Malakai in order to take Aelin out. The older man had only shaken his head, and assured Rowan to take the time he needed to treat his special lady.

Something about the comment had thrown Rowan somewhat. His lady. Aelin.

The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying. It filled him with warmth in his chest and a churning in his stomach simultaneously.

He fiddled with his collar as he scrutinised himself in the mirror. Rowan had been ready for a while, but the nervous energy within him was channelling itself into mindless motions and fluttering hands.

He had swapped his usual flannel and baggy jeans for a crisp, white shirt and a new pair of dark jeans. Smarter attire than usual, fitting for the occasion, but relaxed by the couple of buttons undone at the top of his collar. He had thrown a jumper over the shirt, hoping to fight off any of the approaching chill in the air of a late summer night in Adarlan.

They weren’t going far, but he wanted to make sure he was prepared.

He had chosen a relatively nice restaurant for their date, one only a couple of blocks from the loft, but he hadn’t wanted to go anywhere overly formal. He thought a more relaxed environment fit himself and Aelin better than something stiff and uptight.

There weren’t many secrets between them, living together and across the hall from each other didn’t allow for many to exist. He had chosen a setting for them to enjoy each other’s company, they didn’t need a candlelit dinner while they discussed their favourite colours, they didn’t need to sip champagne while they compared their careers.

Rowan had never been on a first date like it, he knew Aelin so well by now and truthfully, it didn’t feel much different than the dinners they had eaten together in the past. There was a level of comfortability between them that most of the usual first-date fears were absent.

Rowan felt as if his fears were different to those preceding a usual first date. This was Aelin, and he couldn’t bear to let her down. He wanted to make it special and a night that she would remember.

He had chosen to send her a text with the details, and he had heard her laugh through the walls when she had received it. It was exactly the response he had hoped to receive, and now he assumed she was tucked away in her bedroom getting ready.

It was almost time for him to cross the hall, and he was struggling to hold back. His foot had been tapping on the ground for a while and he pressed a hand to his knee, hoping to halt the pounding.

Finally he gave up, sure that five minutes wouldn’t make that much of a difference to Aelin anyway. He swung his door open and crossed the hall in a second to knock gently against Aelin’s door. Within a second she swung the door open and Rowan lost any attempt at a greeting.

He could only marvel as he took her in. Aelin looked truly phenomenal.

Her hair was curled and flowed down the length of her back, with the front tresses pinned back behind her ears. She wore a black dress covered in small, shining, golden stars that hit mid thigh leaving her toned legs on display until they tucked away into small black boots at her feet.

He knew from the gentle way she bit her lip she was waiting for him to speak and a whisper of a smirk crept up into the corner of her lips. Rowan cleared his throat.

“Hi.” His voice was rough, but Aelin’s smile dawned into a full smile. One Rowan knew he returned.

“Hi,” She mimicked, her voice soft.

He allowed himself the luxury of a moment to take her in. To track his eyes down her face and back up, taking in the brightness of the blue in her eyes, the flush of her skin and the shining golden highlights through her hair.

“Aelin,” He breathed. “You look incredible.”

Aelin preened at the compliment, her smile spreading even wider as she leaned to brace herself in the doorframe.

“Thank you, and you too.”

Rowan bit his lip at the appreciative look in her own eyes as she took him in. He fought the embarrassment that teased his senses at her appraisal and attempted to lean into the flattery that accompanied it.

“Ready to go?” He asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I’m curious where you’re taking me though,” She said with another easy smile as she turned to grab her small shoulder bag off her bed.

Rowan watched the motion and the glimpse of thigh the waves of her skirt allowed him as she spun. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and he couldn’t believe she had agreed to go on a date with him. Or the level of pure joy radiating from her at the prospect.

He straightened himself as something settled in his stomach at the thought. Aelin reached him again and he offered her an arm.

“You haven’t got much longer to wait before you find out; I’m not ruining the surprise now,” He told her as she slipped her arm around his own and stepped out of her bedroom.

“Do I look okay for where we’re going?” She asked, looking down at herself suddenly vulnerable.

Incredulity struck him, at the idea that Aelin could look anything less than perfect. He couldn’t hold himself back from dropping a faint kiss to the top of her head. “You look perfect.”

A beautiful cloud of rose dusted her cheeks and Rowan smiled again, he was sure this was the most he had smiled in a long time.

“So, dinner?” He asked as they stepped into the hallway by the door.

“Dinner,” Aelin agreed as she slipped her arm from his to slide into her coat.

“You guys are getting dinner?” Lorcan appeared in front of them and Rowan froze.

Only a moment later the front door to the loft opened at Rowan’s side and Aedion and Lysandra strode into the loft, tucked up in jackets from wherever they had been.

“Oh, hello,” Aedion laughed at the apparent welcome party. “Are we all heading out somewhere?”

Rowan cursed the gods as Lorcan spoke again. “Dinner.”

Aedion nodded appreciatively and looked to Lysandra who only quirked a brow. Rowan braced himself for Aedion to deliver the damning verdict. “Great, we’ll join.”

Rowan could only look to Aelin, unable to hide the mild panic he knew was stark on his face. Aelin looked back up at him, and from the twist of her mouth he knew she wasn’t thrilled, but was frozen in the same predicament he was in.

They couldn’t, or didn’t want to, reveal their exact plans for the night.

Rowan had wanted to keep this just for the two of them, at least for the night, and he knew Aelin felt the same.

“We weren’t going anywhere exciting,” He tried, and Aelin attempted her agreement at his side.

Aedion shook his head, still painfully oblivious. “No big deal, I’m not sure I’m up for anything too fancy now.”

“Is Fenrys coming?” Lorcan asked as he pulled on his trainers, and Rowan squeezed his hands lightly into fists at his sides. His head snapped to the side when he felt Aelin’s touch at his wrist, she linked her smallest finger through his own, tucked out of sight behind his back.

She looked up to him, a small smile across her painted lips accompanied by an amused look in her eyes, and he knew she was disappointed but he understood the gesture. He could feel his own annoyance fading into an amused acceptance, and he offered her a small closed-lipped smile of his own as he gazed down at her.

Rowan knew that dating Aelin would never be fully separate from their roommates, and even though he still needed to speak with Aedion he knew they would be supportive. He had just expected to make it through their first date before their roommates interfered.

He rolled his shoulders back and gave Aelin’s fingers a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey his disappointment through his touch. Her returning squeeze reassured him she was more than alright with the turn their night had taken.

He flashed her a soft smile before detangling their fingers and turning to face the group now assembled by the door.

“Someone get Fenrys, and quickly,” He instructed as he leaned into what the night had become.

Aelin had not expected to spend her first date with Rowan jammed in between her cousin and Lorcan in a booth at some chain restaurant downtown. She had expected a romantic evening, where the two of them would have had a chance to talk and drink and laugh. She had been looking forward to spending time with Rowan, and getting to know him as truly more than just her roommate, more than her crush.

She had been looking forward to watching him across from her, watching the way he talked and the expressions he made when he did. Rowan didn’t often get animated in a group, but around her he loosened his inhibitions, and she enjoyed watching him come alive.

She could never take her eyes off the way his hands would gesticulate as he spoke about something he was passionate about in the brief moments where he did. Sometimes it was the bar, sometimes it was sports and other times there were topics she had never expected from him. It was easy to forget that he had studied law at university, he liked to keep his intelligence understated, but there were times when it was hard to miss.

Aelin was a little disappointed to have missed out on the opportunity to enjoy that side of Rowan, but she was comforted by the fact she knew they would get to reschedule, and by the knowledge she was still going home with him tonight either way. She was also determined to get her kiss afterwards, whether or not this had managed to qualify as a date or not.

The small smiles he offered her over the table helped too. The smiles that said ‘we know something they don’t’ as their roommates chattered away around them.

She pursed her lips around her straw at him as Fenrys jabbed a fork aggressively at Lorcan and Lysandra cackled. They’re clueless, not sure how much we can blame them.

His own shake of his head as he bit back a laugh told her more than enough. I can blame those idiots as much as I want.

Aelin forced herself to take another drink to cover her laugh. Rowan’s eyes were sparkling and there was a lightness to his shoulders as she took him in as he lay back in his chair between Fenrys and Lysandra.

The shirt and jumper combination had thrown her the moment she had swung her door open. Rowan didn’t often dress fancy, in fact the only time she could remember seeing him in something other than his usual uniform of a flannel and jeans was at the wedding a few months ago.

The colour of his jumper over the top of his shirt did wonders for him, highlighting the tan of his skin and the brightness of his green eyes. Or maybe that was just Rowan.

She couldn’t remember a time where she hadn’t taken the opportunity to just observe him. To observe the beauty in the line of his brow, the handsomeness in the cut of his jaw. Her mouth had dried as she had watched him and she lifted a hand to take yet another sip of her water.

“Aelin?” Lysandra’s voice snapped her to attention.

“Yes?” She asked after taking a large sip.

“Was he as hot as Fenrys is making out?” It was only then she realised the attention of all those at the table was directed at her.

Rowan was hot, but Aelin wasn’t convinced that was who Lysandra’s question was regarding.

“Who?” Gods, she had been far too lost in Rowan to even attempt to follow the conversation at the table.

“The doctor, from the other day?”

Lysandra’s final question had taken on a different edge to the others, her voice soft and an unusual look in her green eyes. Surprise, intrigue, and an element of… was that suspicion?

Aelin cleared her throat and dared to look across to Rowan. His expression was carefully guarded, hidden was the amusement they had shared only moments before as he watched her from across the table.

He wasn’t the only one doing so. The others at the table, even Lorcan, had turned to her, each waiting for her response.

“Um, yeah. I guess.” Aelin had little interest in discussing the supposed ‘hotness’ of the doctor from the other day. She wasn’t even sure she knew where the paper with his number on had ended up.

“Damn, Aelin,” Aedion jeered. “Why’s he not here now then?”

Aelin flicked her eyes between Fenrys and Rowan. Fenrys was all too knowing. A twist at the corner of his mouth was the only visible hint of his discomfort, and she followed his gaze as it flicked to Rowan.

He wore a deliberately careful and mild smile as he watched her, and she hoped her expression conveyed the level of dismissal she gave to the doctor. If not, she hoped her words would convey exactly how she felt.

“I wasn’t interested,” She said plainly. “He was nice about it.”

“Not interested in a hot doctor?” Aedion scoffed. “At least go on a date, I can’t imagine how much luxury a doctor’s salary could get you. Probably at least champagne.”

Aelin laughed, a little weakly, desperately finding a way to change the subject. Rowan’s expression was a little less guarded, but she wanted him back to the amusement they had shared earlier.

She nudged his foot under the table with her own, and was beyond grateful when he returned the gesture with a small smile. The twinkle in his eyes had returned, if only a little dimmed.

Aelin sighed and allowed a slow smile to spread across her face. “If he’s so perfect Aedion, I might be able to set you up somehow.”

Her cousin only stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed, she heard the rest of the table laugh too.

“Sorry, Lys,” She said with a grin and her friend only shrugged.

“I know where I’m beaten.”

“Hey,” Aedion sounded offended at the thought and leaned across the table to press a kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek. Aelin smiled at the gesture and looked back to Rowan.

Soon.

Soon they’d finish dinner, and Aelin had plans for him.

The walk home had likely been his favourite part of the evening. They had split off into subgroups for the short walk back to the loft, Aedion and Lysandra walked ahead, their linked hands swinging in the space between them. As much as Rowan had disliked his friend’s teasing at dinner he was happy for his friend, and it was clear to him that Aedion’s relationship was serious. More serious than Rowan had seen Aedion before.

Lorcan and Fenrys had taken up the rear, debating something Rowan was deliberately tuning out as he enjoyed the feeling of Aelin tucked into his side. Her arm had wrapped around his own, her hand tucking into the crook of his elbow and her other hand reached across her body to hold the bicep of the arm she gripped.

It felt delightful to have her there, and he didn’t care about the looks Fenrys was throwing him. He knew what he and Aelin looked like, and he didn’t care. It felt good. Felt good that Rowan was here with Aelin like this. Not the doctor.

Rowan wasn’t petty enough to feel jealousy that the doctor the other day had given Aelin his number, or at least he thought. There was something in his stomach, the only thing that came close to bringing him out of this moment, that he couldn’t quite name. A feeling he couldn’t quite pin down.

They reached the loft having walked in relative silence, but it hadn’t been an awkward journey. It had been relaxed, and satisfied, and easy with Aelin.

They each went their separate ways once in the loft, and he led Aelin to the small stretch of hallway that housed both of their bedrooms.

This was the moment he had been waiting for all night.

She turned to him, releasing his arm as she bit her bottom lip slightly. Rowan couldn’t peel his eyes away until she finally spoke.

“That wasn’t quite what I expected,” She said with a soft laugh.

Rowan shook his head, laughing himself. “No, me neither. I will take you on a date properly soon, if you want to.”

He couldn’t stop himself from adding that last part. Aelin only tilted her head and took a step closer to him. She placed a hand gently on his chest as the smell of her surrounded Rowan. The fruity scent was enticing and he wanted to bury his face in her neck and breathe her in.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m still saying that tonight was our first date.”

Aelin was even closer to him now as she spoke and he raised a hand from his side to rest gently at her waist. The fabric of her dress slid between his fingers and he pulled her into himself slightly.

“Really?” He couldn’t help the tone of disbelief he used.

He hadn’t had a bad night, far from it in fact. He enjoyed spending time with his roommates, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to have lived with them for so long if he didn’t, but Rowan wasn’t sure he would have pictured their group dinner as his and Aelin’s first date.

“Yep,” She said, tilting her face up towards him and Rowan lifted his other hand to cup the back of her neck. His eyes were flickering up and down, an endless race between her eyes and her lips. “And I know what you promised me after our date.”

Rowan couldn’t help the wide smile he wore at her words. The realisation that she was as desperate as he was for their lips to touch again.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, rearranging his hand to rest more comfortably against the back of her head, his fingers slipping between the thick strands of her golden hair. “And what was that?”

Aelin lightly pinched his shoulder but rose up onto her tiptoes to finally press her lips to his.

Rowan could have sunk into this feeling forever. The spark that lit within him at her touch ignited, burning brightly as Aelin leaned even deeper into him, her lips opened in a soft gasp as her hand lifted from his shoulder to wrap around his neck.

Rowan breathed her in as he tasted her on his tongue. Aelin was divine, sweet and addictive. He chased her, wanting more and more and more. Too much wasn’t enough.

He only recognised that they had moved when the knuckles of his hand wrapped through her hair hit a solid surface. He had walked her backwards to the wall and at the realisation that he now boxed her in he drew back from her.

His breaths came fast and his heart was pounding ferociously in his chest as he gazed down silently at her. Aelin’s eyes fluttered open slowly as a broad smile bloomed.

Her cheeks were flushed from the kiss and Rowan risked one last press of his lips against her own. Unable to beat the urge to taste her again.

What he had intended to be a brush of lips Aelin stole control of. She locked her arms around his neck and held him to her, parting her lips for him again. Rowan took and took, unable to fight the desire building deep inside of him.

Aelin gasped against his lips as he removed his hand from her hair to hold her waist and lift her to him slightly. The sound sparked him, and he felt… He couldn't describe how he felt. He never wanted to stop, but Aelin’s gasp had reminded him where they stood.

Rowan pressed her against the wall in the hallway of the loft they shared with the others. They stood so wrapped up in each other that if anyone stumbled upon them denial would be an impossibility.

Rowan went to step back but Aelin rose forward and pressed one last gentle brush of a kiss against his lips before leaning back on her heels and releasing her arms from around his shoulders.

“Goodnight, Aelin,” He whispered, unable to muster anything more than a breathy whisper.

Aelin seemed in the same state as him. Her pupils were blown wide and her lips were a dusty shade of just-kissed pink. Rowan wanted to kiss her again.

“Night, Rowan,” She whispered, just as quietly as he had spoken.

Rowan took a step back and smiled down at her as she smiled up at him. He slowly backed across the hallway until he stood in front of his own door, his hand braced on the handle.

Aelin offered him a final, dreamlike smile before she slipped inside her bedroom. Rowan crept into his own and threw himself straight onto his bed.

His mind was blissfully restful as he lay, staring at the ceiling, replaying every touch he and Aelin had shared. His mind ran over all the details of their night, from the smile she had worn when she opened the door to greet him, to the feeling of her arm wrapped around his.

The unspoken words they had shared, wearing mutually knowing smiles, had warmed him and he fought off a smile at the thought.

She had rejected the mention of the doctor, quite outright, which relieved him, but the feeling from before had crept back into his stomach.

He still couldn’t place it, but as he lay, his thoughts came together, and he reached over to the side for his laptop. He sat himself up in bed, this wouldn’t take long, and typed a few words into the search bar of his browser.

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen

@maybekindasortaace

@slytheringalathynius

@http-itsrebecca

@morganofthewildfire

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@fictional-horan

@tottenhamboys20

@dressedindustandshadows

@sleeping-and-books

@perseusannabeth

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

@superspiritfestival

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

@spyofthenightcourt

@jlinez

@queen-of-glass

@booknerdproblems

@sjmships

@elriel4life

@bamchickawowow

@woollycat22

@claralady

@illyrianwitchling

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

@fangirlprincess09

@darlinminds

@bookittothelibrary1 <- this came up as the url please let me know it its not right

@thenerdandfandoms

@danibutterr

@inthecityair

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #a groovy kind of love #agkol #i know this probably isn't what people were expecting lol #but I had a good time writing it #dorian havilliard #fenrys moonbeam #dorrys?#DORIS HAHAH #fenrian?#lorcan salvaterre #aedion ashryver #lysandra #lysaedion #rowaelin au

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metalchickaf19 · 5 years

Text

The Bowers Gang: Ship #14 - Victor Criss

Request: Hiya,this isn't an old ship request. Take your time. I'm the keep-your-head-down,work-hard,mind-your-business sort of Hufflepuff. Loyal AF. I look dead inside,but I cry about fictional shit [movies, books, soundtracks that one time] really easily. I've got a really deadpan/sarcastic sense of humour&no idea what to do with affection/earnestness when confronted with it. Not shy,just hate people.Love my cat, tho.Long-held belief that i'm dumb [despite decent grades in all but math]. I'm outwardly polite&raging inside. Fiction is an escapism coping mechanism. I'm always the DD in my friend group[which is small[don't need many friends, just good ones]. I write fiction! Original fiction&fan-focusing on mysteries &sci-fi/fantasy/YA. Had a couple of short stories published,too. Love reading -mysteries/YA/old-school pulp detective stories. Love horror movies but can't stand torture-porn. 5'6;short brown undercut;green eyes;glasses;baggy sweaters/big flannels/jeans/boots

Fact: You’re one of the best matches for Victor Criss I’ve yet come across, and it’s great

None of the rest of the guys like you very much (primarily because you’re a high-key intellectual and they have no way of keeping up), but fuck ‘em - that’s part of what makes you so right for Criss

Henry in particular doesn’t like it when you hang out around the gang, because he thinks your haircut makes you look like a lesbian

... And he’s not attracted to you, so there’s nothing hot about it

Basically just feels like he and the guys are waving a huge rainbow flag every time they’re spotted with you, and it gets his homophobia all up in a tizzy

I’m sorry, he’s an idiot - keep rocking that badass undercut, queen

You and Victor motivate each other in school because you both have aspirations to leave Derry someday

You actually have plans to move out of state and get an apartment together after graduation, but none of the other guys know this (don’t. tell. Bowers.)

Often tells you how smart, cute, funny (etc.) you are, because he knows you don’t think much of yourself, and the guy legit thrives on terminating girls’ negative self-images

Meaning the fact that you don’t know what to do with earnestness is fine - Criss will bombard you with it until you learn

Trades movies, books, and music with you all the time

Has never had someone to share his more “high-minded” (*cough* intelligent *cough*) interests with, so you get buried in film and literature suggestions for the whole first month of your relationship

In general though, you guys have very similar tastes, so you tend to join each other’s fandoms without a problem (aka: sleepover conversation is lit every time because common interests)

* Weird, somewhat upsetting side-note *

Patrick likes you most when it comes to the other guys - no contest

Partly because he vibes with your “dead inside” sense of humor...

... but mostly because he just wants to hit it (surprise, surprise)

Unlike Henry, finds your unconventional hairstyle super attractive, and wants to fuck you 10x more on top of that just because your Victor’s girlfriend

... They have a complicated relationship, let’s leave it that (Victor hates Patrick, Patrick thrives off of Victor’s hatred - the end)

But yeah, comes on to you basically every time you hang out with the gang, and is so bold about it that he actually got caught in the act once (Hockstetter is much louder about being Mr. Steal Yo’ Girl when he’s stealing from Criss)

Almost led to a physical fight between he and Victor, which was only avoided because Belch literally got between them

No joke - Belch had to fend off a livid Criss for over 15 minutes while he tried to force his way through to Patrick, who was laughing like a five-year-old in the background

So random Hockstetter gropes/propositions don’t happen as often now, but still go down on a fairly regular basis

... I’m sorry

* Weird, somewhat upsetting side-note over *

Victor once stopped Patrick and Henry from killing your cat

...Yeah, you read that right - legitimately stopped them from killing your household pet

Patrick stole it (of course) and brought it to Henry’s place, where Henry planned on taping a cherry bomb to its back “just to see what’d happen” - he would later say he didn’t know it was your cat (but he knew it was your fucking cat)

It was the first time Victor ever straight-up “noped” something Henry wanted to do, and outright stopped it from happening

Literally just walked up on the situation, went and picked up your cat without saying a word, and started working the tape off of it as he walked away

And Bowers didn’t say one damn word to stop him, because Criss had a serious “this isn’t an argument” vibe going on

Long story short, it was the sexiest moment of his life, and it was done entirely out of love for you - have fun with that

Victor helps tutor you in math (it’s his best subject outside of English)

Also loves the fact that you write

Loves it

And actually... all the other guys do too

Shocking, I know

Since Victor introduced the concept that fictional characters can be based on people in an author’s real life, all the guys look for traces of their own personalities in your characters

... And Hockstetter now insists that almost every character you write, whether new or old, is him - even ones you made up long before you met the gang (”Aw, just come right out and say it, sweetheart - I was always your leading man.” *Gut-wrenching Hockstetter grin*)

But all the guys love looking for themselves in your work, so Victor usually steals your final drafts/finished stories and reads them to the gang without you knowing

It’s honestly kind of the most adorable thing ever - Victor is happy because he gets to show off your writing skill, and the guys are happy because story time

I literally never thought I’d type that, ever

Overall, a great relationship that would probably bring about some intense personal changes on Victor’s part

When it comes down to you and the guys, he chooses you every time, and their bullshit behavior towards you would likely lead to his abandoning the gang somewhere down the line

You have a man that will change for you, girl; cherish him

#henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #belch huggins #victor criss #the bowers gang #the bowers gang headcanons #it

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secondplayercanada · 6 years

Text

Super important muse update.

Hello everyone! As you may or may not know, I came to the realisation a while ago that a lot of Matts behaviours and other things actually line up perfectly with several signs of being on the autism spectrum. Further investigation showed yep, Matt is your local undiagnosed autistic adult! So yeah, this massively huge fuckoff document is a detailed description and walkthrough of where he fits on the spectrum and other important details. Its fucking massive, but please please read it all! Everything on there is important and details important things that make him him.

I’ll whack it under a readmore so you don’t have to scroll for forever.

So, before we get too far let me just preface this with an important disclaimer: autism is a spectrum. If you meet or know someone who’s on the spectrum you know just that, A person on the spectrum. Everyone is different and that's what I strive to show with Matt. Keep in mind he’s also undiagnosed, and was raised in a very different world to ours, and thus has learned to “act normal” over the centuries as he’s grown up. I’m not saying this is how every person with autism is or acts, I’m just saying this is how Matt is, as someone who’s a demigod style immortal thing. Now that we’ve done the obligatory disclaimer so tumblr doesn’t throw a shit fit, let's get into how Matt fits on the spectrum.

I’ll apologise in advance, this kind of wanders a bit, and occasionally just slides from one topic to another, but this does cover everything. And its long as FUCK.

As previously stated, autism is a spectrum ranging from the more extreme to the more subtle. Matt fits somewhere in the middle- some traits are noticeable and others are not. For example, Matt stims a lot, and he has no idea he’s actually stimming. His main stims have changed in how he shows them over the centuries, but these ones have never changed, only adapted.

1. He fiddles. Constantly. He’ll play with the hem of his shirt, the opening on the sleeve where his hand comes out, with his buttons (regardless of where they are), he’ll tug on the belt loops of his pants.

2. When his hair is long enough, if he’s starting to escalate or he’s got a lot of emotionsTM he’ll play with his hair. He’ll plait it, twirl it around his fingers, tug on it when he’s starting to get near a meltdown. If he’s having a full on meltdown he’ll pull out his hair and eyelashes.

3. Tapping and twirling. He’ll tap on the table, twirl his pen around, roll a stone with a soothing texture around in his hands, tap his arms, feet, so long as its a texture he likes he’ll play with it. Kinda fits into the fiddling, but I like to classify this as a different thing as the connotations are different.

In the modern day, he uses fidget cubes and spinners, certain slimes, certain stress balls, and he’ll occasionally chew on a pen if he’s trying not to fiddle or tap/twirl. He’s INCREDIBLY picky about textures, and he’s very sensitive to these. He flat out refuses to wear certain fabrics and styles because they are Not Good and he’ll do whatever he needs to not wear them. The main styles he hates are things like suits and ties, turtlenecks, anything that covers/restricts his neck and fabrics that don’t breathe. He can tolerate military uniforms in general because they’re designed to move and breathe. However, if something is baggy he’s usually ok with it.

Fabrics he likes are things like wool and cotton, soft things that feel like the sorts of clothes he grew up wearing. In the modern day he wears jeans and a baggy flannel mostly, though when he needs he’ll trade the flannel out for plain cotton tees. He prefers not to wear synthetic clothing as an environmental thing, and some of those fabrics are BAAAAAAAAAAD. He’s not sure which ones though, and can’t be bothered to find out so he just avoids anything synthetic as a general rule. He does know he would rather die than wear any kind of velvet, fake or real. Don’t even try he WILL rip it to shreds. Loves cashmere though.

He also has a love/hate relationship with shoes. It really depends on what the ground underneath is like. In forests and such, he can happily go barefoot. Sand? Sand is the devil. He hates sand on a similar level to Anakin Skywalker. Sand can get fucked. He refuses to go to beaches simply because he cannot handle sand, so unless its rocky or you can effectively keep the sand off of him, he won’t go. Ice and cold stuff he’s fine with, he doesn’t feel the cold as a weird ass nation thing. So he will walk barefoot and buttass naked in the middle of a antartic winter blizzard and he’ll be fine. Heat, on the other hand, he’s got a mixed relationship with. Heat on its own he can tolerate, same with humidity, but when its hot and humid he suffers and is constantly on the edge of escalating into a meltdown unless he can get somewhere cool. Hot ground is shoes weather, and he really doesn't like how most sandels feel. It's incredibly rare to find him in sandals, 99.99% of the time he has some form of enclosed shoe on. He’s also picky af about what shoes he wears, because it’s gotta fit his foot right, be comfortable, and most importantly the laces have to be just right. It’s dealing with laces thats hardest for him, if something doesn’t lace just right he can’t wear something. He hates thick, hard laces and prefers the softer ones that fit fairly flat and smoothly against the top of his foot so he’ll hardly notice them.

On the subject of noticing him, it’s his social ability that’s most likely to make someone suspect Matts on the spectrum. He HATES crowds, and the noise associated with them. He gets overwhelmed very easily in them, which best case scenario leads to panic attacks, worse case scenario he has a meltdown. He hates feeling cramped in and trapped in people, he hates feeling people in his bubbles or touching him without permission. The noises and smells in the city also tend to be his biggest trigger. He hates the smell of diesel, smoke/smog (he’s ok with woodsmoke though. And marijuana smoke. That's about it. He will throw your cigarette into the sun and you with it if you don’t back off when he’s getting antsy, as cigarette smoke in particular will give him huge headaches. He really suffered a lot when casual tobacco consumption was the norm.) he also can’t deal with lots of auditory input, and the noises in cities is often too much at once and will make him freak. Unless it's mostly the same sort of thing, for example just the babble of the crowd talking at a normal volume, he will leave ASAP.

Adding to his social problems, Matt exhibits the following common signs of autism:

1. Struggles with eye contact (over the centuries he’s learned to look at people’s noses and eyebrows, but it’s very rare he makes the concentrated effort to look someone in the eyes. It stresses him out.)

2. He struggles with facial expressions- both his own and others. He can’t read facial expressions very well, and has a resting bitch face that rarely changes. Kinda similar to canon APH Sweden. The most common facial expression he has is smile, frown, and raising an eyebrow in confusion. He’s learned raising an eyebrow while frowning is usually a nonverbal question of “please explain” so he uses this a lot.

3. Leading on from facial expressions, he can’t read body language in general or the atmosphere. He’s gotten a bit better over the centuries, but since he’s taken to hiding in the middle of nowhere on his own, he’s not as good as he could be with, ya know, a diagnosis and proper help to learn.

4. He gets fixated on things and then it's hard to stop him from focusing. Currently his things he focuses on are various environmental issues, mostly focused on conservation and preservation. His other major special interest all stages of building, from designing to actually making it. If you don’t let him finish it he’ll get really upset.

5. He really struggles with playing pretend. Like… a lot. Either something is real, or it isn’t. He understands fiction, which is fine and he enjoys reading fiction and other works that are clearly fictional, but if you try and hypothetically ask him something or have him pretend to do something it’s a struggle. As a child and early teen it would distress him to no end, but as an adult he can work through it if you’re patient.

But in saying that, he does notice things when he likes you. He’ll remember if you mention your favourite colour or food, he’ll notice when you wear a lot of a certain kind of jewelry, if you wear a certain scent a lot, if you wear certain accessories or styles a lot. He’ll notice if you have a certain kind of flower you use as decoration or in your garden. He’ll notice when you change your hair, if you wear a different style, he’ll notice you’ve been talking a lot about something you enjoy. And he’ll do his damn best to engage in the things those he cares about like. And when you’re sad he’ll use this to try and make you feel better. Think like Sherlock Holmes’s super noticing and remembering ability, only unlike Sherlock he’s not a foot-in-mouth dick about it.

On the subject of noticing what people like, Matt highly enjoys repetitive or easily broken down tasks like sewing, cooking, baking and gardening. His garden is meticulously cared for, and if he really likes you, he’ll either start growing your favourite flowers or he’ll give you as many as you want when they’re blooming. If possible, he’ll either start growing any herbs you like or use a lot in his herb garden or he’ll give you some. Stuff like rosemary he’ll bottle and dry himself and give to you so you have good homegrown stuff to use.

When it comes to clothes, he makes his own a lot so they’re Just Right, so he’ll mend your clothes, make you a nice coat or shirt, he’ll tailor things for you. He’ll even use fabrics he loathes if he really loves you. Including velvet.

He’ll also randomly make food for you and causally fob it off. Going back to noticing, he’ll make your favourite dishes where possible, things traditional to your homeland, whatever will make you feel happy. He likes making those he cares about happy. It makes him happy to spread some joy.

Moving on from happy, people yelling or otherwise freaking out is horrible for him. Mostly because the loud noises and aggression makes him escalate like that in turn, so when people get mad at him and start yelling and getting up in his business, it’ll end in disaster. Just the loud noises people make when going through a strong emotion in general isn’t good, but he’s ok with laughter now. Another reason why he avoids people- people are hard and when emotions and tensions start rising, so do his chances of meltdown.

So, what does Matt’s meltdowns look like? Depends on how bad it is and what caused it. At worst they’re your stereotypical autistic meltdown, he’s screaming, maybe crying, if it’s brought on by someone else he’ll try and hit you, if it's not a person he’ll rock, he’ll hit himself in the head, bite his arms and lips, pull out his hair by the firstful. He’ll kick if he’s on the ground, and if you get too close he WILL hit you. At this point it’s best to leave him alone. At his most mild there’s crying, he’ll hit himself and scratch his arms and rock in place. No matter how bad the meltdown is, as much as possible he’ll try and get away or remove what's caused the meltdown. If it's too much stimulation he’ll run away and find somewhere peaceful no matter what, if its a person he will fucking yeet you across a room, don’t get close. Things like sand are harder, he’ll usually just stay at his peak until someone can get him away or he doesn't have to wear it/touch it/feel it/ go near it. No surprise that war in general is absolute hell for him. During wartime if he’s in the hospitals or on the frontlines he’ll be right on the edge of a breakdown. While serving the world wars he developed a temporary hatred of mud and everything associated with them, and temporarily developed selective mutism. In general, he refused to interact with all but a handful of people (mostly nations) and even then he was mostly nonverbal.

In saying that, Matt is surprisingly good with children and it was children that were key to his recovery after the wars. He adores kids, as kids tend to be very honest and easy for him to read, and even when they lie it's for reasons he can understand. And most kids are shitty liars so even he can tell when they’re lying. Matt loves playing with kids, with kids and animals being his magic combination to help him chill no matter how close to a meltdown he is. After the wars he worked a lot with kids because he was quiet and to most kids, he was scarier than anything else that they imagined could be after them. So he became the big scary friend who looks after everyone else. Once he adopts a kid as his, he will do whatever he needs to keep them happy and safe.

He does a similar thing with animals, as animals are like kids but easier again for him to understand. He loves the small cute animals, and has been known to opely sob in delight over impossibly tiny animals like kittens and puppies. In saying that, he also loves adopting the grumpy old bastard cats who no one can get near from shelters. If you give him an inch he’ll take a mile and end up running like a bajillion Old Friends Senior Dog Sanctuary style sanctuaries for animals in need. Don’t test him. Their fur is oddly calming to him, a throwback to his childhood when animal hides were commonly used, especially in winter.

And yeah, that's everything. Thanks for reading this stupidly fucking long talk about Matts autism! This is a living document, so it’ll evolve as Matt evolves, so it’ll be a good idea to check back in on this every now and again once I add it to his page. However it is about 11pm as I finish this edit before posting and I woke up at 6am this morning for work and must do so again tomorrow. So yeah.

Thanks again!

#that's a very vauge concept you know {about}#I'll schedule this so the Americans can see it #please read this this was a labour of #love and lots of hard work and editing #thanks

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immortalave-blog · 7 years

Text

When do Spiders scream (a seven page story)

When do Spiders Scream

He knocked my phone out of my hand for the third time this year. He laughed as the screen smashed into the hard concrete. After the impact, white lightning spread across the cool black ice of the screen. The lights flickered for a moment and then it went dark. Forever.

“Ass hat” Spike said as she picked up the remnants of my phone. She stuck her tongue out at Nick, who in turned, flipped her off with a chuckle. They stayed like this for a moment, and then Nick gave in and went to stand next to his groupies. Nick was greeted with smiles and chuckles, and it was beyond mind-blowing. I took inventory in my head.

He had slept with her, fucked her, hooked up at a party with her, had a threesome with her and him…

“…hello?”

While I had been thinking about the colony of people and how their lives were all entangled together Spike had been speaking. She held out my phone to me. I accepted it graciously.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

“Ohh shut-up cuz I won’t ever let those nut sacks mess with my family.”

She gave me a “Noogie” and she walked with me to class.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mom?” I inquired one night at dinner.

“Mmhmm,” she replied not peeling her eyes away from her book.

“Never mind. May I be excused?”

“Mmmhmm,” she said, and I scuttled up the stairs.

When I got to my room, everything was pleasantly familiar. The natural light coming from the open window illuminated it, and the cool autumn breeze that filled my lungs screamed peace. The walls were the color of Dusk with glow-in-the-dark stars scattered on the celling. On the left side of the room was a twin sized bed with an odd assortment of sheets, pillows, and blankets. They ranged in both sizes and colors, but I loved them all. The most noticeable object on the bed was a comforter with red racecars on it. (They had once been my brother’s, but I had decided I had grown out of princess blankets so I took his sheets when he went to college). There were videogames and an Xbox next the TV that was adjacent to my bed that I could entertain myself with, but I did not. Instead, I went and sat in front of my mirror. I stared at the edges of my jaw, the freckles on my nose, and I counted the pimples that plagued my forehead. I stood up locked the door, closed the window and took off all of my clothes. The pale glow of the stars on my celling cast a dull glow across my bare skin. Spike had once told me that when a person was naked, all their secrets were exposed, but all I saw, staring back at me, was a monster.

“I’m going to change my name,” I said through a mouth full of French fries.

“Ohh yeah? To what?” Spike replied as she took a sip of her soda pop. “Like Izzie or Bella?”

“No those are lame, and they don’t seem to suite me, I need a cooler name. Like Brendon”

“That’s stupid, how does the name Brendon come from the name Isabel?”

“It doesn’t, never mind. It was a stupid idea.”

“Well you know what I think” Spike put her hand on the table to indicate the importance of her next couple words. “I think that a name should represent a person. It’s kinda like how I look like a Rachel, and Nick looks like a chad. I, personally, think that you look like an Isabel. But if you don’t think you look like an Izzie Isabel, or Bella, than you should change it.”

“Pshhh” I replied, “My mom would kill me.”

Overhearing our conversation, from a table near us Nick stood up. He walked towards us and the room grew silent. He made eye contact with Spike, and she returned it. They seemed to be having a battle of stubbornness. Everyone was watching now. They collectively held their breath as Nick spoke.

“Did you say I look like a chad?”

“Yes I did” Spike replied, she refused to break eye contact. “What’s your point?”

“Well” Nick replied. “I personally want to know what it means to look like a Chad”

The collective population all nodded in agreement. I hadn’t noticed it until now, but they all seemed to be inching closer. Their eyes looking in every direction, waiting to see if the fly would fall into the web.

“A ‘Chad’,” she said, as she stood so that she was meeting his gaze at an equal level. “Is someone who is gorgeous. Someone who gets all the ladies. Women want him, and men want to be him. That kind of thing.”

“Well that’s very nice of you…”

She cut him off, “But he is bone headed, and dumb.” She continued, “He’s the dumbest person in the whole school, but he’s so popular that no one seems to be able to tell him to his face.”

The room was silent for a long time. Too long in my opinion. I wish someone had breathed to break the silence.

“Well,” Chad said. “At least we know that name logic isn’t true”

Like a predator to his prey, he turned to me.

“You said she looks like an Isabel, but all the Isabel’s I know are sexy, and she is obviously not.” He started to stage whisper, but everyone heard him. “Every Isabel that I know has been able to deep throat.” He paused. All eyes were on me, I turned my gaze to Spike who looked just as shocked as I did. She wasn’t expecting the battle to be turned to me. She was surprised, and flustered, she was stuttering. Before she had time to recover Nick’s goons picked me up from my armpits and put me on the table. Nick turned to speak to the entire school.

“Do you all think Isabel looks like an Isabel?”

Their faces shook, the shadows elongated.

“Because if she does, she should prove it right now.”

He grabbed my hand and I snagged it away.

“Are you admitting you don’t look like an Isabel? We can come up with a new name for you….” I bolted, pushing my way through the people whose abdomens were vibrating furiously. So much so that the room shook. My head didn’t clear until I had ran the 5 miles to get home.

I sat cross-legged in front of the mirror. The glow of the stars brought light to the tear trails that remained on my face. I stood up grabbed a razor blade from my bathroom, and returned to where I had once been. I grabbed a fistful of my hair and sawed it off. Relieving me of my mask. When I was done, I had short, spikey, uneven hair. It was beautiful.

My mom didn’t think so, and she didn’t understand why I did it. I tried to explain what happened and how I didn’t want to look like an Isabel.

“What’s wrong with your name?” she said.

“Nothing it’s just not me”

“That’s ridiculous.” She said as she looked through my bathroom drawers. “Where’s all the make-up I got you for Christmas?”

“I gave it to Spike,” I said.

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“I wasn’t using it”

During the next week, school was hell. Everyone was whispering about me, and my new hair. They all started to spin stories about why I had cut it. In addition to this change, I had taken some of my brother’s old clothes from his room, and started to wear them every day. They were big flannels, old blue jeans, and sneakers. Nothing too flashy, but I didn’t want people looking at me and thinking about me in the compromised state that nick had implied. So I decided that baggy clothes was perfect for me. I thought I looked great. My Mom? Did not.

“Bella, people are starting to talk about you. They are saying you are one of those LGTBQ people.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I snapped.

I noticed myself being more confident. Stronger. More assertive. My mom didn’t like it. She started making me pray with her every day. She said she would “Pray the Gay away,” and that I would find salvation through God. While I was at school, she took apart my room. She replaced my bedsheets with pink ones from when she was in college, took my brother’s clothes out of my room, and covered my dresser in tester make-up with a sign that said, “Try me”.

Try what? I thought. Try to change back to old me? Hell no.

This continued, until all that was in my closet were floral dresses and really nice shoes.

“That Bitch.” I said.

“She’s your Mom Iz” Spike replied.

“Yeah but those are my things. I’m comfortable with that. She told me to me more decisive, and be more confident…”

“Yes but she didn’t ask you to be queer.”

I stood there in silence.

“My mom won’t let me hang out with you anymore. She thinks you’ll turn me gay. I don’t want to be gay. So change your attitude, or you lose me.”

Spike then pushed past me. She brushed tears from her cheeks. She pulled her skirt up, it was so short now that you could notice how long her legs were. They were thin, and fragile looking, delicate, but strong. She walked straight over to Nick and his friends. She seemed to start conversation with them, and all of their abdomens shook together. Nick made eye contact with me and winked. I flipped him off.

I am alone, I thought

I stared at the dim reflection of myself. The person I had once seen as beautiful and confident now looked like a parasite. Broken and twisted. It was not an image of a female, or a Male, but an it.

Was I wrong? I thought

Is this not who I am?

She’s gone.

“Hey Fag,” Nick said. “I hear you want to trade your pussy for a dick.”

I shut my locker, and turned to see Nick. His groupies surrounded him. I decided to just walk away. They followed me, they yelled names, and threw pudding cups erasers… anything. The people I walked past joined in, so I started to run. I was being chased by a mob of spiders their legs tangling with each other’s. Their mouths dripping saliva. So I ran. I went to the place I felt least associated with, but I knew I could be momentarily safe there. The girl’s restroom. The sign on the door kept him from me. So I was safe, but I was trapped. He banged on the door.

“You don’t belong in there Fag.”

Where did he get that notion? I thought

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” I shouted. They stopped.

I breathed in the hairspray coated oxygen molecules, and took in my surroundings. The stalls were metal, and all the locks were broken. The toilets were clogged, and the trashcan overflowing. The florescent bulbs surrounding the mirror dimly lit the faded pink paint that was peeling off the walls. The mirror. I walked over to it, my eyes looking at the ground. I didn’t know if I wanted to see myself.

I took a breath, and looked. I saw me. Isabel starred back at me. Her freckled nose, her neutral smile, her sad eyes, and her long flowing hair. She hid behind it. Then school was over.

No one came in the bathroom, and I hadn’t been able to leave. They had bolted the door closed, and there were no windows. The room was cold and dark. Spiders love cold and dark.

He opened the doors. I was done crying. I stood and faced him.

“If you wanted a Dick so bad you could have just asked”

He entered the room a wolf spider and a daddy long leg followed him. A black widow stood at the door. Her face was turned so you could see half her face. Her red lipstick split revealing pearly white fangs as she smiled. She looked familiar, but I didn’t recognize her. As she closed the door I saw her hand the janitor a couple $20s, he nodded and seemed to say, “Fix her.”

The spiders were holding me now. Their webs tightening the more I struggled. Their fangs glistening with intense hunger. Their eyes looked in all different directions. The black widow turned, and I froze.

How did she become this? I thought.

“Spike?”

Then the spiders attacked.

It had been a week since I had stepped foot in that school, and to be completely honest I still wasn’t ready. I had gotten a new phone, and I was still wearing my brothers clothing. Because of what happened my brother came home from college and stood up to my mom, and in turn my mom stood up to the entire rest of the family. She changed my sheets back, and bought me gender neutral clothing. It didn’t make up for it, but she was trying.

The school still had the same musty halls and the same rusty lockers and….

By the time my phone hit the floor, my claw had sliced open his flesh. His abdomen vibrated with the force of his pain, and his legs curled in on themselves. It was paralyzed. Its limbs were so brittle that the slightest touch would shatter them into dust. Seeing how weak their leader was becoming his followers scattered. Their legs pinging the tile floor with each impact, their eight eyes stretched open to the breaking point with fear.

It hissed, loudly. It attempted to move, but it was trapped. I reached into its pocket, grabbed its wallet, and pulled out $40. I stood up and turned to walk away. Its followers still starring, it still hissing, what I can only assume to be insults. I walked to the black widow it was the only follower that remained. It was as paralyzed with fear as its leader. Scared of what I might do next. She whimpered as I handed it the $40, and said. “Fix it.”

ڌ�c3L

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

Text

15 Ways To Dress Like Streetwear Supremo Travis Scott

http://fashion-trendin.com/15-ways-to-dress-like-streetwear-supremo-travis-scott/

15 Ways To Dress Like Streetwear Supremo Travis Scott

While Kendrick Lamar, the man Travis Scott supported on his monolithic Damn tour, is the undisputed king of hip-hop at the moment, rapper Scott is certainly head of the genre’s fashion department.

Set to release one of the most hotly anticipated albums of the year this week and with a US number one album already under his belt, the profile of the 26-year-old Texan transcends his chart-topping music. A high-profile relationship with the youngest ‘self-made’ billionaire ever, Kylie Jenner, is the main culprit but an obvious and burgeoning sense of style has also helped seen Scott conquer the fashion world.

A regular on fashion week front rows Scott has collaborated with Helmut Lang and London-based label Maharishi (the guy does love a good cargo pant and Maharishi practically invented the style) as well as being the face of Saint Laurent for its SS17 campaign.

The Look

So what is it about Travis Scott’s style that has seen him courted so prolifically by fashion designers the world over? Well, besides his undoubted influence on youth culture (the guy has over 10 million Instagram followers) his style is also a unique twist on streetwear that impresses at nearly every turn.

A plaid overshirt is a nailed-on go-to, as are the previously mentioned cargo pants that show off his grunge leanings. Scott doesn’t go for traditional tailoring, so if you do catch him in a blazer it will usually have some rock and roll stylings to it like a tight cinch the waist and some gold buttons. On the feet, Scott favours either a pair of Vans or some high tops, styled with the shoelaces undone of course.

Inspiration: Kanye West, Kurt Cobain, Kendrick Lamar Go-To Brands: Supreme, Vans, Vetements Follow Him: @travisscott

Don’t Look At Me

How do you dress all in black without looking like your playing a shadow in the school play? It’s a question asked endlessly in menswear and one best answered with a single word – variation. Different cuts, textures and shades of black therefore play a key role in mixing the look up, while the metallic buttons on the military style blazer links up well with the shiny hoops down the side of Scott’s trousers.

Pink Reigns Supreme

No longer just for Barbie girls and preppy types who spend their summer on Daddy’s super yacht, the colour pink has carved out a substantial space for itself in menswear, especially in streetwear. If you’re going to try the colour take your skin shade into account as a light hue will flush out pale types. Wear pink with summery and fresh colours like white and light blues as Travis does here for a simple and clean cut look.

Iron Mike

Maybe this image of boxing ledge Mike Tyson in a Supreme T-Shirt on a Supreme T-Shirt (meta) doesn’t have the same historical heritage as Muhammed Ali over a beaten Sonny Liston but in the streetwear game, it is just as iconic. The tee is just right on the sleeves cut off around the middle of the bicep while a simple pair of denim jeans gives Scott full reign to go bling-bling with his watch and accessories. A challenge he is more than equal to.

Tangerine Dream

Orange camo is going to be a strong look for anyone, even if you’re a multi-million-selling artist who arrives for your slot supporting Kendrick Lamar on a giant flying animatronic bird. What we’re saying is, it requires confidence, but as long as you know you can add balance to that look by playing the orange off against neutral colours like grey, navy and black then you needn’t be shy.

How Do You Do?

Hoodies work great in layering looks, unassuming enough to not draw attention away from your statement bomber jacket, while adding bulk to slim frames. Elsewhere it’s easy to get the wrong shade of blue when pairing with black. A dark navy bruises a look, but a bold electric blue will contrast well with black, made even more effective by the satin and denim differentiation.

General Scott

Making his red-carpet debut with Kylie Jenner, at the MET gala, this is a reserved look compared to others on the guest list that night (Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman wore a papal cloak). So although we don’t expect anyone to be walking around the shopping centre in the gothic space captain look anytime soon we do appreciate the straight and sleek cut without a single unsightly bunch and the utility belt strapped on over the shoulder to break up the all-black.

Coppin’ Cobain

The red plaid over-shirt is synonymous with grunge icon Kurt Cobain and there’s more than a hint of the Nirvana frontman in Scott’s version here. The track pants are also giving off strong 1990s vibes and while they are draping over the sneakers the slight opening of the zip allows a little curtain to see the white shinnies behind.

Fanta-stic

There’s a touch of dad-core in this outfit from Scott which trades heavy on the bright garish colour palette of early 1990s hip-hop. Looser and baggier fits are coming back into play in menswear but you don’t want to look like you’re wearing bedsheets. When it comes to light wash denim especially, make like Scott and go for somewhere in between skinny and loose with a slight taper in your jeans so as not to cover up your favourite Vans.

Dude, Where’s My Leather Pants?

If you’re holding on to the last remnants of your 20s leather trousers are unlikely to be the most forgiving item of clothing to try, but your younger years are a prime time to experiment. There are still some style rules to keep you in check – mainly that all-leather is a sure-fire way to heat exhaustion but the leather trousers paired with the classic and timeless cut on the suede jacket works a treat alongside a non-flashy black tee and white sneakers.

Supreme Shades

Well, you can’t say that Travis Scott isn’t on-brand here and while we’re doubting the practicality of those Supreme shades the grey chore jacket and trousers combo is a utilitarian workwear marvel. The key is to have a relaxed fit – the workwear look is meant to be functional and not in a muscle constricting fit. Elsewhere we’ve done a U-turn and half accepted this whole socks and sandals trend (as has the fashion world at large) but they still look better in high-end options (Scott’s Yves Saint Laurent pair, for example). Do us a favour and wear them neutral, will you?

Ooh Look, A Penny

The black bomber jacket has come such a long way in recent years that we reckon any self-respecting man of fashion would be lost without one in the wardrobe. Black is slimming anyway but the silhouette of a bomber jacket – cinched in at the waist while keeping a broad shoulder – can be transformative. Obviously so is posture, and while we wouldn’t recommend following Scott indulging in his go-to head-down pose, we can at least admire the varsity jacket stylings on the sleeves and collar and the sky blue coordination between shirt and shoes.

Racing Stripes

When it comes to the side stripe trouser the look works best when everything else is styled down but if you’re wearing them out put something on up top that you wouldn’t be mistaken for wearing to the gym with a Scott trademark, the chore jacket, working admirably. Also to make sure the stripe is the star of the show pick one with a wide, vertical line and in a rich red contrasting on a navy or black background.

Departure Loungewear

When you’re being squashed into a plane seat for any longer than a second you’re going to want to make sure your wares are comfortable. A sweatshirt is a decent shout whether you’re in economy or first class. The neutral navy also means that should the flying tin can go through any turbulence the food that inevitably spills over you won’t show up as much.

Cool Blue

More proof that white and blue is the king of failsafe colour combos. When wearing flannel or plaid you want the layer underneath to offer some contrast, and it works even better if the tee is cut to the same length as your overshirt, like Scott has done here. A baggy tee spooling over will look messy, especially if you choose some casual trousers down below.

I’m On Fire

The sweatshirt has had a sophisticated overhaul in recent years thanks to luxury fashion houses realising its dominant influence in streetwear. Understated versions still look the most refined though and this slim cut grey sweatshirt looks clean and tidy with the slender ripped black jeans, so all eyes are on Scott’s prized Jordans.

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