#Joy Division T Shirt

[shadowcats4]

Life is no longer ok :( Afternoon art is cancelled because the teacher's not doing iittt:((((

I only had him for one year, but he was really cool. He just kind of existed and let you do your thing. He also has good music taste. I don't think, I know he doesn't realise how much I liked him. He's just a cool guy. I even based a whole character off him.

He's a poppet.

Prof. Dernovsek appreciation post @phantomlemon348 @bloushoon @liaverse37

[fresh-lasers]

Color Bars x Joy Division Love Will Tear Us Apart T-Shirt

[iheardyoulooking]

[emily-mooon]

I need an Alvvays shirt

[jjkamochoso]

Matchmaking Mina

Fluff

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

Your kind-hearted captain has taken it upon herself to stoke the flames of love between you and Soshiro!

Warnings: none

Captain Mina Ashiro may act aloof, but she wasn’t blind. Anyone in the Third Division could see that you and Soshiro were the perfect match for each other. If neither of you were going to make the first move, it was only right that she, as your trusted leader, guided you in the right direction. Only, of course, after assessing the situation to make sure you two really did like one another.

*Click*

Her phone captured a snapshot of you at lunch one day, laughing at something Kafka had said. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were creased with joy—you looked positively radiant. Mina made her way to Soshiro’s office, eager to begin her investigation.

“Captain,” Soshiro saluted, “to what do i owe the pleasure?”

“Just stopping by. Checking on the status of your report from last week.”

“It’s almost done. I’ve been hard at work,” Soshiro grinned, sticking his pointer fingers out.

He’s in a pleasant mood. Let’s see if that changes.

“Good. I also came to show you a new picture of Bakko from the other day.”

It was a plausible excuse; Soshiro was a fan of cats as well and Mina was known for subjecting her friends and subordinates to monologues about how cute Bakko was. The vice captain was now standing by her side, peering over her shoulder at the phone in her hand.

“Here it is—oops! Wrong picture.”

Your picture was the one currently being displayed and from her peripheral vision, she saw Soshiro gulp ever so slightly, his eyes opened a bit wider. She was in no hurry, taking her time to slide her finger over the screen to the “correct” photo.

“Sorry about that. It was a cute photo, though, wasn’t it? Didn’t y/n look nice?”

“Huh? Yeah. I mean, sure,” he mumbled, the tips of his ears a rosy hue.

Now for the real test.

“I’d never seen her laugh so hard, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re around Kafka, right?”

There was an immediate shift of mood in the room, tension filling the open space like a dam had burst. Soshiro had gone from blushing to bloodthirsty in a millisecond and Mina was thankful she’d been blessed with a poker face or else she’d be bursting in laughter at his very apparent jealousy.

“If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I should finish this report.”

Soshiro saluted her again before sitting at his desk and Mina took her leave.

Well, that was informative.

Now she knew that Soshiro definitely harbored a crush for you and a hatred for Hibino. As she walked down the empty hallway, she let a small smile grace her lips.

She loved love.

Mina did the exact same experiment to you a few days later. As a fellow cat enthusiast, you were very excited at the prospect of seeing new Bakko content, quickly taking a seat next to your captain. This time around, she had managed to take an extremely flattering picture of Soshiro during training. He was standing outside, slightly flushed from the previous physical exertion, with one hand on his hip and the other pushing his hair out of his face.

Maybe if I ever retire I’ll become a photographer.

“…and there’s Bakko-oops. Not this.”

Your mouth was partially agape and she spied how you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the man on the screen. His tight fitting shirt hugged every curve of every muscle. His physique and pose were reminiscent of a model you’d see on a billboard in downtown Tokyo or on a runway in Paris.

“T-that’s a great picture you got of Vice Captain,” you breathed out in awe. “He looks so… hot.”

“If you’re into that sort of look, sure,” she answered.

“I definitely am,” you said dreamily, clearing your throat with embarrassment when you realized you said that out loud. “I mean, yeah. If someone was… hypothetically, like… into that sort of… thing.”

Mission 100% accomplished; they’re very much into each other.

Next up was the hard part of figuring out how to get confessions from the two of you without meddling too much. That’s why she was hoping today’s training, with you being partnered with Kafka, would be enough to stir up those same feelings and visceral reactions you both had while looking at the photos of each other not that long ago. So far, it was working splendidly. Kafka would say or do something ridiculous, causing you to howl with laughter and Soshiro to shoot Kafka a burning glare that could rival the intensity of a wildfire. Meanwhile, Soshiro would take his frustration out on the sparring training dummies, in turn leaving you dumbstruck at the way he moved so majestically and remained the most handsome man on earth, even in a state of sweaty exhaustion. When training was finally over, Mina couldn’t slow the buildup of anticipation deep inside her, eager to see the lovebirds admit their feelings, or at the very least, converse with each other. Neither of those things happened; you and Soshiro didn’t even exchange eye contact before going your separate ways.

Mina frowned. Didn’t she plant the seeds of attraction, water the foundations of a relationship, nurture the-

Looking back, I guess I didn’t do all that much.

“L/n.”

You turned around immediately at the sound of your captain’s voice, saluting as the dark haired woman approached you. You had just finished showering after a grueling day of exercise and were on your way to your room to get some much needed rest

“Come with me, please.”

“Right now?” you asked incredulously, eyes raking over the cat pajamas you were sporting. “Should I change into my uniform really quick?”

“No need,” she replied, “it’ll only be a moment:”

“Alright then.”

You were thoroughly confused but who were you to question your captain? You followed behind her dutifully, like a child following their mother to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk after a nightmare. Your eyebrows knit in confusion as she brought you into Soshiro’s office. He, too, had just showered, but he had changed into a fresh tracksuit, presumably because he never stopped working.

“Captain! What can I do for… you?” Soshiro faltered when he saw you peek out from behind Mina.

“I’m horribly underdressed for whatever’s happening. I sincerely apologize,” you said, bowing your head as to not meet his eyes. You weren’t that far below Soshiro’s rank, being a Platoon Leader, but you didn’t want your superior seeing you in such a state of disarray with your wet hair and casual attire in the office. Soshiro, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Y/n! I didn’t see you back there at first. I like your pajamas, cats are always a good choice.” His fanged smile brought you a sense of comfort,

“Thank you.”

You two would’ve gotten lost in each other’s eyes if it weren’t for Mina reminding you she was still there.

“Let me explain what’s going on. Y/n, Soshiro likes you. Soshiro, y/n likes you.”

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop from across the base. You and Soshiro broke eye contact at breakneck speed, becoming self conscious and wary.

Mina was confused. Weird. Aren’t they supposed to kiss or something, like how it happens in books?

“I’ll leave you to it. Good night.”

Mina practically ran out of Soshiro’s office, getting hit with a whole slew of mixed emotions as she made her way to her own office. Was she wrong for getting involved in her subordinates’ love lives? Did she somehow misread the signals you both were giving off? Was her conclusion incorrect, leading her to be labeled a fool, unfit for a leadership position? She fretted all night thinking about the lack of response you and Soshiro had about the great news. The next morning, as she got ready, she thought of all the ways she could explain her behavior and hoped this situation wouldn’t lead to her getting fired (worst case scenario) or you and Soshiro feeling awkward around each other (bad case scenario). You two worked extremely well together, neutralizing kaiju with just glances and nods, no words needed, and she’d never forgive herself for ruining such a good team.

Mina fiddled with her jacket one last time before lifting her chin up and making the trek to her office to start the day. To her surprise, the door was ajar, you and Soshiro apparently waiting for her arrival.

Goodbye Third Division, hello HR…

“Captain,” you began, “Soshiro and I really appreciate what you were trying to do for us, but-”

“I overstepped my boundary,” she cut in. “I’m ashamed that I let my self control slip and I put my subordinates, the people in my care, in an uncomfortable position. I don’t know if I can ever regain your trust again, but I swear that I-”

“Captain.”

This time it was Soshiro who spoke out of turn. “My deepest apologies for interrupting you, but you don’t need to be sorry. Your intuition was correct—y/n and I do like each other.”

Mins could’ve cried tears of happiness hearing that, especially knowing that her job wasn’t at stake anymore, but her joy was turned to confusion when she noticed you and Soshiro share a glance, making a wordless agreement, and then both reaching into your shirts…?

She watched with curious eyes as a chain entered your grasp, previously hidden from view under your shirt, a small ring hanging down from it. Soshiro did the same, a matching ring gleaming under the fluorescent lights. It was then that the inquisitive, intelligent, intuitive captain made the connection—

“Soshiro and I are married,” you said, sheepishly glancing over at your husband. Now it was Mina’s turn to be deadly silent. However, you could tell she wasn’t upset, she was busy comprehending everything that was revealed to her.

“We didn’t tell anyone,” explained Soshiro, “because we didn’t want it to become an issue at work. In retrospect, we could’ve hidden it a bit better.”

He scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Though Kafka doesn’t ever seem to get the hint.”

“But we know we can trust you with our lives and we should’ve at least told you. I’m sorry for lying to you, Captain Ashiro,” you said, your head hanging low.

That’s when you heard the strangest sound.

Captain Mina Ashiro… was laughing?

“This was an interesting turn of events,” she eventually said, catching her breath. “It turns out I was correct, but not in the way I thought.”

She strutted over to her desk, sitting down and starting the computer. “If that’s all you had to report, then you’re dismissed. It’s time to go to work.”

She looked up one last time, quirking an eyebrow. “Or are you on your honeymoon?”

[plakatierenverboten]

The National: New Order T-Shirt (Official Visualizer)

[vanteguccir]

hey i was wondering if you could write a fic where the reader and matt have a kid and they do like their morning routine with the kid and go out afterwards ? love you btw!!

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb with dad!matt and mom!you

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

The first rays of sunlight gently seeped through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow over the room. The house was still and quiet, the calm before the joyous storm of the day. Y/N stirred, her eyes fluttering open to the comforting warmth of Matt’s embrace. His arm was draped protectively over her, and she could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against her back.

"G'morning, beautiful." Matt murmured, his voice husky with sleep as he nuzzled into her neck.

Y/N turned to face him, a smile playing on her lips.

"Good morning, my love."

Their mornings had a rhythm, a dance perfected over time. The first task was always the same: waking up their little girl. Matt slipped out of bed first, pulling on a T-shirt and pajama pants, covering his half-naked body, before heading down the hallway to their daughter’s room. Y/N followed closely behind, savoring the quiet moments before the day began in earnest.

Their daughter, Lily, was still asleep, her tiny form nestled among a sea of stuffed animals - some of them being Matt's old ones - and blankets. Matt leaned over the crib, his expression softening as he watched her.

"Time to wake up, princess." He whispered, gently brushing a brown stray curl from her face, exactly like his.

Lily stirred, her eyes opening slowly to the sight of her father’s smiling face.

"Daddy!" She exclaimed, her voice filled with sleepy excitement as she reached up for him.

Matt carefully lifted her into his arms, creating a cocoon with his hands around her, exhaling the soft smell of baby perfume that permeated her skin.

"Morning, petal. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Daddy." She giggled, her laughter filling the room, feeling tickles from the way Matt caressed her small cheek with his nose.

"Hey, baby girl." Y/N joined them, kissing Lily’s forehead before leading her to the bathroom for a quick wash.

While Y/N handled Lily’s morning routine, Matt headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. It was an unspoken agreement between them, a seamless division of tasks that made their mornings flow smoothly.

Matt moved with practiced ease, preparing Lily’s favorite breakfast: pancakes with a smiley face made of berries. He hummed softly to himself a random song from a Disney movie, a habit he’d picked up since becoming a father. Every action, every movement, was infused with a love that radiated through the entire house.

In the bathroom, Y/N helped Lily brush her teeth, her hands gentle but efficient.

"Let’s get you all clean and ready for the day, my little star." She said, her voice soft and soothing.

Lily giggled, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"Mommy, can I wear my princess dress today? Pretty please? I want to look like a real princess!"

"Of course, darling." Y/N replied, her heart swelling with love for her little girl. "Even tho you don't need a dress to look like a princess, you're already one."

With Lily clean and dressed, Y/N guided her to the kitchen, where the aroma of freshly cooked pancakes filled the air. Matt was waiting for them, a proud grin on his face as he presented the breakfast platter.

"Look, Mommy! Daddy made smiley pancakes!" Lily exclaimed, her eyes wide with delight while letting her mother put her on the taller chair.

Y/N chuckled, wrapping her arms around Matt’s waist after making sure her daughter was secure.

"You always know how to make breakfast special, don’t you?"

Matt kissed her forehead, his eyes filled with adoration.

"Anything for my girls."

They sat down to eat, the morning light casting a warm glow over the kitchen table. Lily chattered animatedly about her dreams and her plans for the day, her parents listening with rapt attention. Matt’s eyes often flickered to Y/N, admiration and love evident in every glance, muttering small "I love you's" now and then.

After breakfast, it was time for the next part of their routine. Y/N took charge of cleaning up the kitchen while Matt got Lily ready for their outing. He helped her put on her shoes and coat, ensuring she was bundled up warmly for the cold outside.

"You excited to go to the park, petal?" Matt asked, crouching down to her level.

"Yes, Daddy! I want to go on the swings!" She said, bouncing with excitement, making it hard for Matt to fix her shoes.

Matt chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately after making sure she was ready to go.

"Alright, let’s get going then."

Y/N joined them, her coat already on and a smile on her face.

"Ready when you are." She said, taking Matt’s hand in hers.

The walk to the park was filled with laughter and playful banter. Matt held Lily’s hand on one side while Y/N held the other. They walked in step, a picture of perfect harmony. Along the way, they pointed out different things to Lily - a bird perched on a tree, a squirrel scurrying across the path, the colorful flowers blooming along the sidewalk - which Lily ran to pick up one of the fallen ones, remembering her mother's teaching never to take a flower from its stem.

At the park, Lily immediately ran towards the swings, her laughter echoing through the air as Matt pushed her gently. Y/N watched them from the closest bench, her heart full as she saw her little and perfect family.

Matt caught Y/N’s gaze and smiled, his eyes twinkling with love.

"She’s having so much fun." He said, his voice filled with contentment.

"She is." Y/N agreed, moving closer to him. "And so am I."

They spent the morning at the park, playing with Lily and enjoying each other’s company. Matt was attentive and caring, always making sure Y/N and Lily were happy and comfortable.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, they decided it was time to head home. Matt carried a tired but happy Lily on his shoulders, her small hands clutching his hair as she dozed off. Y/N walked beside them, her right hand securely palming Lily's back, making sure that she wouldn't fall, her heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

Back at home, they settled Lily into her bed for a nap. Matt and Y/N then curled up on the couch together, enjoying the quiet moment of peace. Matt wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her close.

"You know, I’m so lucky to have you." He whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with love.

"We’re lucky to have each other." She replied, leaning in to kiss him softly.

[fluffy-dixon]

Sleeveless

No warnings, just a bit of heated tension between two people who are obviously very attracted to each other.

This was inspired by seeing Norman wearing his cut off Joy Division t-shirt.

-

Today was a very ordinary, chilled, and relaxed kind of today, almost feeling like a normal Sunday afternoon despite the apocalypse. Daryl, your best friend who you spent the most of your time with, all the time in fact, stands there in the garage tinkering with his motorbike, the sunlight filtering through the dusty windows, casting a warm glow on his tanned skin. His motorhead T-shirt, its sleeves artfully cut off, clings to his broad shoulders and defined biceps. As he leans over the bike, his back muscles ripple beneath the fabric, and you can’t help but trace the lines with your eyes.

That damned t-shirt does things to you within.

His hands, calloused from countless battles with walkers and working, move with a graceful confidence—fingers adjusting bolts, tightening screws. You watch the play of tendons as he grips the wrench, the way his knuckles flex. It’s as if every movement is a symphony, and you’re the sole audience member, captivated by the performance.

The things he could do with those hands, mhmm.

What.

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts but then it hits you: the sudden realisation that this isn’t just admiration for his mechanical skills. No, it’s something deeper, more primal. Your heart races, and you wonder how you never noticed before—the way his laughter reaches your soul, the warmth of his gaze when he catches you staring.

You’re undeniably attracted to Daryl, and the garage becomes a stage for a different kind of tension—one that has nothing to do with bike repairs. The air crackles with possibility, and you find yourself wondering what it would be like to trace those arm muscles with your fingertips, to feel his lips against yours.

But for now, you keep your secret, watching him work, knowing that this newfound desire will forever colour your perception of motor oil and metal. And as he looks up, meeting your gaze, you wonder if he senses it too, he smiles at you, exposing his emotions - a very rare moment which he only shares with the people he cared for most.

“Watcha starin’ at, huh?” His voice, gravelly and deep, wraps around you like a warm embrace. You find yourself speechless, utterly captivated by his every move. Daryl stands there, mere centimetres away, his presence filling the garage. Your feet dangle over the edge of the toolbox you’re perched on, and he steps in between your legs.

His palms, rough from countless hours of tinkering with engines, rest on the tops of your thighs. The heat from his touch seeps through your skin, igniting a fire within you. You’re acutely aware of the tension—the charged air that crackles between you two.

And then, without warning, the words tumble out: “You’re really hot.” You hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but desire has a way of bypassing reason. Daryl blinks, confusion etching his features. “Wha?” he stammers, caught off guard.

Quickly, you backtrack, your cheeks flushing. “It’s really hot,” you correct yourself, hoping he didn’t quite catch your slip. But the heat in the garage isn’t just from the weather; it’s the electric pull between you and him, a magnetic force that defies explanation.

[mcroutfits]

8.1/10 famous aesthetics pt.3: mikey's anthrax band t shirt

boy has a band tee and a dream to follow, he is just like me. i don't like it as much as the joy division one but it's still sexy

[eddiethebanished]

It’s Only Fair

leadsinger!reader

Summary- Eddie’s working as a bouncer at The Hideout on ladies night, watches your band play.

Warnings- I’m not really sure if there are any? Please let me know if there are so I can learn.

Eddie had never seen so many women, especially at The Hideout of all places. By the time he got to work there was a line wrapped around the building.

He had been working at The Hideout as a bouncer for a few weeks, in exchange his band would be able to play more gigs at a reduced fee. But he had yet to work a Wednesday night,

which as it turns out was ladies night. Reduced price on drinks and girl bands gracing the stage.

With a groan Eddie pushed open the door to let the ladies in at 7pm sharp. A few had already been getting rowdy, banging on the door begging for early entry. From then on it was the same monotonous movements. Check ID, take the cover charge, nod his head toward the door signaling admission. Ignoring the giggles and flirtatious batting of eyelashes from some of the patrons, Eddie could tell by the sea of bright neon color dresses he most likely wouldn’t be hearing his preferred type of music tonight.

“Harrington?” Eddie asked, surprised to see the shaggy brown haired boy standing in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

Steve scoffed. “It’s ladies night, Munson. Plus, Robins band is playing tonight and their singer is like a total babe.”

Eddie chuckled and patted steve on the shoulder as he walked through the door. After what felt like eternity of checking IDs, taking the cover charge, and nodding his head towards the entrance, the line ended, save for a few stragglers here and there.

The first band took the stage with big teased hair full of aqua net, they wore matching jazzercise outfits and played the most headache inducing pop music that would even have Cyndi Lauper nauseous. Eddie made his way to the bar in hopes David the bartender could make him something to ease the pain of the night.

“Want your regular, Ed?” David asked while wiping down the bar.

“Sure, better make it a double” he said over the sound of the bands pitchy singer.

“Never worked a ladies night before huh?” Eddie shook his head, David continued “It’s not that bad, sure the music isn’t great but there’s rarely any fights to break up, and I make a killing in tips!” Eddie nodded and slid a five over to David before he was called into a sea of girls ordering shots and half priced cocktails. Eddie took up residence at a table near the door where a bold Steve Harrington was striking out with every girl he flirted with.

The second band who took the stage was just fine, the third band came on late, drunk, and ended with the bassist barfing on the drummers cymbals. After a brief intermission to clean the stage, the lights dimmed. People scrambled from their barstools and dark corners to the middle of the room. Shouts and whoops erupted as the band took the stage.

“This is Robin’s band.” Steve said sitting up in his seat and nudging Eddie. One by one the band members stepped up on stage, Robin with her drumsticks gave a silly wave towards Eddie and Steve, the latter of which shouted out a “Woo!” The bassist arrived next blowing a kiss towards the audience, followed by the guitarist. They each had their own unique style that worked together, it showed cohesiveness without needing matching jazzercise outfits.

When the lead singer got on stage the crowd went wild, eddies eyes widened. Black oversized t-shirt with black shorts you could barely see, fishnets and doc martens. Eddie shifted in his seat to get a better look.

“That’s y/n.” Steve said looking at Eddie with a knowing smirk.

“Alright Hawkins how are we doing tonight?!” You said into the microphone. The crowd responded with cheers and applause as you started your first song. It was a cover of “Love Will Tear Us Apart” by Joy Division. By the end of the first chorus Eddie was enamored.

When the song ended, you grabbed your placid blue fender strat and slipped the strap over your head. Eddie wasn’t enamored- he was in love.

“Watch it, Munson. You’re drooling.” Steve said.

“Shut up, Harrington.” He said flatly.

“This one-” you started while plucking a few strings, “is dedicated to all the shitty guys in Hawkins that broke our hearts!” Jumping into an original song about dancing with the devil and having your girlhood stolen, Eddie realized why all these people were at this shitty bar. They were here to see you.

When your set ended, Steve nodded his head to go over to the stage with him. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to your future wife.” He added a wink and chuckled to himself. Eddie downed the rest of his drink and followed after Steve.

“Hey look, Steve, you really don’t need to-“ He was cut off.

“Oh come on, have some fun.” Steve said walking through the crowd.

“Hey guys!” Robin beamed “What did you think of our set? We’ve been rehearsing like crazy and I really think it paid off!” Robin rambled clutching her drumsticks.

“It was great, Robin-“ Steve began, he put his arm on her shoulder and said in a lower tone “where’s y/n? I think our boy Eddie here might want to meet her.” He grinned.

“Oh! She’s putting her stuff in the van, I’ll go get her!” Before Eddie could object, Robin bounced out of the propped open side door where he could see the band members putting equipment in the trunk. Robin returned shortly arm in arm with the lead singer, the girl of Eddie’s dreams.

“Steve, you know y/n.” Robin said, a grin plastered to her face. Steve nodded his head toward you. “This is our friend Eddie.” Robin said with a gentle push on your back towards where Eddie was standing.

“Hi.” Eddie said, with his signature smile, a little dimple forming on his cheek.

“Hey, I know you, you work here right?” You responded after taking a sip from your water. Eddie opened his mouth to respond when-

“Yeah Eddie is the bouncer, he’s also in this band that plays here Tuesday nights.” Robin answered for Eddie.

“Here, Robin I’ll help you with your drums okay?” Steve said raising his eyebrows and nodding his head towards Eddie. As they walked away Steve turned back and gave Eddie a thumbs up.

“What kind of music do you play?” You asked stepping closer to the curly haired boy.

“Uhh Metal, mostly. I’m also frontman and play guitar.” He responded nervously, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. You rocked back and forth on your heels and looked up into his dark brown eyes.

“I’ll have to come check you guys out, it’s only fair after you seeing us play.”

“Fair- right I have to warn you though, it’s nothing like tonight,” Eddie started looking around at the crowd still lingering after your set. “We get about five drunk guys at the bar and that’s it.” He chuckled.

“Well I can guarantee there will be one more person at your next show.” You smiled sweetly, Eddie’s eyes couldn’t help dart to your lips, they looked so soft with a lingering shine from the gloss that must have worn off while you were singing. Realizing he was staring for a beat too long he cleared his throat and looked toward the open door. “So do you need help carrying anything out?”

“No, I’m all packed up but thank you.” You responded politely.

“In that case,” Eddie’s voice deepened as he inched closer to you. “can I buy you a drink?”

A blush crept across your cheeks as you nodded silently. He grabbed your hand and led you over to the bar where two stools had just become available.

David walked over to you two slinging a rag over his shoulder. “Hey rockstars, what can I get for you?” You both gave him your drink orders and faced each other on the stools.

“Okay, musician to musician, what did you think of the set?” You asked biting your lip nervously.

“Honestly, I was surprised.” He said, sipping from his beer bottle.

“Surprised we didn’t play covers of Madonna or Bananarama?” You asked while smiling into your drink.

“You could have sang anything and it would have sounded amazing.” He started. “When I came in today I couldn’t believe how many people were lined up to get into The Hideout of all places. But when I saw you up there, it all clicked”

You brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh stop, they’re here for the half priced drinks, that’s all.” You said self-deprecatingly.

“Hey, all those people stayed after that bassist puked all over the drums.” you both laughed together. “You were a natural up there.” Eddie’s eyes met yours, still with a smile on his face.

“Thank you.” You said while holding his gaze.

“Hey y/n, sorry” Robin bounced up to you both, “My curfew on school nights is 11 and it is now-“ she looked at her watch. “12:30, and you drove so do you think we could…” she trailed off.

“Yes! Shit, Robin, I’m sorry.” You reached for your pocket pulling out a few stray dollar bills, about to place them on the bar. Eddie quickly shook his head.

“Nope, it’s on me. Employee discount.” He said with a wink.

“Aw, thank you, I’ll make sure I buy your drink when I come see your show.” You said putting the money back in the pocket of your shorts while standing up from the barstool.

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie said with a shrug.

“Come on, fair is fair!” You giggled and leaned close to his ear. “I’ll see you Tuesday.” You whispered softly before Robin pulled you away.

Eddie could get used to working ladies night.

[freezingmcxn]

hey.. how you doing.. can you maybe make a lil thingy about toby like you did with the eyeless jack thing I'm just really focused on Toby right know idk why but like write it however you want I just want to see your writing on how you rhing he looks and acts take your time you dont even have to do it I love you I love you i love you I love you I love you I love you I lovw you

TOBY ROGERS APPEARANCE (AU)

AHH YES I CAN my motivation is so bad but these always make me really happy and are easy to write so OFC ILY!!

Toby’s hair is a pale, sun-bleached brown, almost blonde, falling to his neck and curling around his ears.

Naturally curly, his hair has become dry and unkempt from bathing in river water and using cheap soap. His curls puff out, lacking any defined shape.

Occasionally, in a fit of frustration, he shaves it all off or trims it, often in a dingy ass gas station bathroom, depending on how much he despises it at the time.

Standing around 5’7” (5’8” in boots), Toby’s constant slouching makes him look as if he might topple over at any moment.

His most noticeable feature is the gash on his mouth, though it’s not as large as one might think.

The wound is just big enough to expose his upper teeth, which are rotted and decayed. Despite its size, the injury reeks of infection, with pus occasionally oozing from the diseased tissue.

Toby often picks at it, making the wound larger over time.

Originally, it was a small bite he inflicted on himself, but his constant fiddling turned it into the gaping wound it is now.

He no longer bites at it, disgusted by the taste of his own decaying flesh. He usually covers it with a large plaster—often supplied by Jack or just lets the air hit it, depending on his mood really.

Toby has a small gold hoop earring in his left ear, a relic from a day when he and Lyra decided to pierce it with a needle. He didn’t feel the pain but kept the earring all these years, occasionally fiddling with it as a reminder of her.

His trusty hatchets dangle from a hardware belt around his waist, always clattering when he moves, a sound he makes sure to emphasise because he knows it irritates people.

The hatchets are mismatched, one is large with a dark oak handle, carved with doodles, while the other is smaller, with a plastic handle, but much sharper—often the one he uses for the first hit.

Both handles are wrapped in duct tape, one of his go-to solutions for everything.

Toby’s skin is sallow, marked by long exposure to the sun. Freckles and moles speckle his body.

His hands are scarred and battered, with half of his left pinky finger missing, and his right hand covered in self-inflicted bite marks. His palms are calloused, his nails ragged—some bruised black, others completely gone.

His teeth are a mess—sharp, chipped, and broken, with gaps where some have been knocked out from fights or lost to decay.

Toby doesn’t bother brushing his teeth, as he often forgets or simply doesn’t care. Eating people doesn’t help either, wrecking his teeth further.

He typically wears the same tattered hoodie for as long as he can stand it, only washing it at a laundromat when absolutely necessary (when it’s bloody and stinky).

He also has an old Joy Division t-shirt layered over a white long-sleeve, both full of holes, though Toby doesn’t mind, he wears it on warmer days.

He’s been wearing the same pair of jeans for five years, patching them up whenever needed—he’s surprisingly good at sewing thanks to Lyra.

On his feet are either old Timberland boots, once his father’s, now worn with a hole in the sole, or a beat-up pair of red Converse, duct-taped at the top.

He alternates between them.

Toby owns a fleece jacket, fingerless gloves, and two beanies—one grey and one black.

The black one is torn and faded, but he likes the way it adds to his look.

He carries everything in a worn blue Jansport backpack he once stole from a kid at a bus stop, where he rams all his clothes and supplies.

I think that’s enough 😭😭 I rambled I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say too much because I fear he won’t be as interesting but yeah! Hope you like him :)

[sweetbillwriting]

In The Dead of Night

TEN

Characters: AU Eric played by Bill Skarsgård from The Crow (2024)

Setting: This story is set in A WHOLE OTHER WORLD than the movie. Shelley isn't a part of this story. Eric will be different from the movie, I started this story long before I saw the movie.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: FINALLY seen the movie. All similarities with the movie are accidentally. I got this idea after seeing the trailer.

×

I looked at Eric with pleading eyes until I heard a loud groan from Robin and how he turned on his heel to leave.

“Robin!” I shouted after him and jumped out of bed. It was a reflex to follow him because he was the one that left, but he was also my best friend. After a few seconds of searching, I found my panties on the floor and the gray tank top Eric used the night before, and then I ran after Robin through the staircase.

“Robin, please! You don't understand! I was just-”

Robin turned around in the middle of a stair while I stood on the first step.

“No! I don't understand! Because the only way I can see you have been able to get in contact with him is that you searched him up! Behind my back!”

“Yes, yes… But it was for Lotti!”

It wasn't a complete lie, but it was far from completely true either.

“For my mom? For my mom? You don't know a fuck what's best for her!”

“She misses him all the time.”

“That doesn't mean he's good for her. And neither for you! He's a fucking junkie, Della!”

"No, he's not; he's clean!”

“That's what he says to you, you fucking idiot! How many times should I say to you, addicts are manipulative assholes, and he will hurt you. I just want your best, but instead you go behind my back and fuck the trash.”

I stood quiet because I was in the wrong and didn't know what to say, but also because I didn't know much about addiction, and once again I became worried Eric was actually taking something. Had he hidden pills somewhere?

“I get that it's an exciting story with the lost son, the son who came back from an addiction, but I've seen him close to death twice now, even if he had sworn he would never do anything again. My mom doesn't need that, and I don't think you want to be near that either. You have probably seen the signs that he isn't stable, and I'm quite sure you don't want that in your life.”

I could hear Lotti's words in my head about his long periods of opiates use and the short periods of him being happy. Maybe this was a short period he was happy, and he would soon fall down in the dark pit of drugs again. Hadn't he closed the door, only ignoring it for the moment? He had said himself he thought about drugs all the time.

Robin started to walk down with slow steps, not as upset anymore, but his shoulders were slumped, and I could see a genuine worry in his body language when he dragged his hand over his face.

“Robin…” I whined but stayed on my step.

“This is just fucked up, Della. Going behind my back but also how much you will destroy for yourself…” he said with a sigh. I stayed silent and let my tears fall until I heard him walk out the entrance door. I took a deep breath because I knew now I had one more man to explain my actions to. In one way it felt easier because Eric wasn't the type to scream and make a scene, but he would be much more hurt than Robin. Robin's emotions were loud, but Eric's was big.

I met him already in the hallway, dressed in gray sweatpants and a Joy Division t-shirt that was so well used it had a big hole in the armpit. He gave me a quick look when he threw down his sports bag with his things on the floor, then he pulled on his high-top Vans.

“Eric..! I cried pathetically. Now the tears streamed heavily, and I tried to drag his body close to mine, but he either turned his back against me or pushed me away lightly.

“Please just let me explain, please!”

I didn't even know how to explain my behavior, but still I said it, just to be able to make him stay, but it didn't work because Eric just pulled on his bomber jacket. In that moment when his arms were occupied, I took my chance to hug him around his waist, hugging so hard he wouldn't be able to go away.

“Della…”

He tried to sound bored and irritated, but I could only hear the tears in his throat.

“Please Eric, just let me explain.”

I tied my fingers together around his back to make it harder for him to push me away, but I noticed at once I didn't need to worry about that; Eric was too kind to push me hard. Instead, he let his arms hang by his side while he stood with his eyes closed. I looked at him and dried my own tears from my cheeks and wondered if he would cry, but he just took a deep breath until he spoke again.

“I want to go now, Delilah.”

“No! Let us go back to bed; please just let us talk!” I rambled in my panic and tried to make him move towards the bedroom. I was stupid for believing that. Eric's body was just muscles, and he wouldn't move an inch if he didn't want to.

“I don't want to talk. I want to go...”

He really tried sounding determined and hard, like he could do to Odin, but he just sounded like a broken boy.

“Eric, I want to explain-”

For the first time during our conversation, he looked at me. His beautiful big green eyes were full of tears, but he blinked them away and looked down at me again.

“I don't want to talk because it doesn't matter anyway. Everything between us is a lie; you have gone behind my back, and I guess the stalking Jackie talked about was also true then-”

“No, no! Let me explain!” I cried pathetically and hugged him even harder.

“No, Della. Let me go.” He looked at me seriously while a tear crawled its way down his porcelain skin. “Just let me go.”

I looked straight into his eyes while tear after tear swam down his cheeks. I cried loudly instead, like a kid losing its favorite stuffy. I wanted to continue to hold him, only letting him go when everything was okay again, but not even I knew how we would get past this. I was a stalker, a liar, and hadn't respected his boundaries. Eric was an addict, but that was his only flaw. He deserved something better.

Hyperventilating with tears, I let him go slowly, and he took the trunk standing on the floor and wiped away his tears on his cheeks. I hoped he would give me a final kiss, a hug, and say that we could stay in touch, but he just walked out of my apartment and closed the door behind him silently. I continued my hyperventilating cries, and it became worse when I realized I had one thing more to tell him. I opened the door fast and could hear his slow steps down the stairs and a sniffle. I took a deep breath through my pained lungs and shouted:

“I love you most in the entire world!”

×××

Desiree dragged her fingers through my hair, even if it was greasy. I had been lying in bed for six days, and both me and my bedroom smelled like sweat and stale air. I didn't notice the smell, though, because I was just thinking about Eric. A bit about Robin too, but mostly about Eric. I loved him so much it felt like my body had shut down, and for short moments I wondered if I would be able to function again.

“I get that you're sad over Eric and Robin and everything, but laying here just makes it worse…”

Desiree just knew that Eric was Robin's brother, and I had approached him without Robin's consent. She didn't know why Eric had broken up with me too, but she probably created her own story about all of it.

“You can talk to Robin. He will probably understand. I mean, it's just his brother. It was a stupid thing for you to do, but it is only his brother. Such things happen.”

I sighed deeply and closed my eyes even harder. It wasn't as easy as Desiree believed, and hearing her talk so lightly about it just made my chest ache even harder.

“Can't you come on a walk with me at least? You will feel better when you go out.”

I did what she said. I don't even know why; maybe it was just nice someone else made a decision for me. I wore Eric's big hoodie over a pair of leggings with my nose down in the collar to smell the little scent of him that was left on it. Desiree looked at me while I did it and sighed.

“He's really nice but don't you think this is for the best? You're so different from each other. I always thought you wanted a more ambitious guy who could afford traveling with you.”

She was right; I had dreams about traveling all the time, meanwhile Eric had problems even affording a visit to my hometown, but money wasn't everything. He was.

“I don't want that anymore…” I said with a small voice.

“You feel that now because you two just broke up, but I know how much you like to travel. He works as a part-time janitor. It doesn't sound like he can even afford a trip to New York.”

I dug my hands deeper into the pocket of the hoodie. It was too early for her to diss Eric. Maybe in a few weeks it could be comforting, but I doubted even that. Talking shit about Eric was what weak, prejudiced people did. He was the kindest soul and did his best in life.

“What about Dante? I mean, I've seen on Instagram that he's still single and you two were-”

“God! This shit about Dante! He's an asshole!” I groaned loudly. My whole family was obsessed with the thought of me and Dante, even if I had said so many times he was an asshole.

“I know you could nag sometimes, but all couples do that, and you were so perfect for-”

“No! Can you please back off? I never ever want to be close to him again!”

“Because he complained about your clothes sometimes? Every partner you have had has complained about your clothes!”

My style was eclectic, theatrical, and sometimes ultra-sexy. I was a vintage girl, but I also liked some drama, and every partner I have had has either complained about the length of my skirt or the size of my hat. Everyone except Eric. That wasn't the reason I hated Dante, though.

“Yes! Because he complained about my clothes!”

Desiree made a smacking sound with her tongue, like she thought I was silly.

“So? He was handsome, stable, rich, sweet…”

While Desiree continued to enumerate everything good with Dante, I looked at my phone that was ringing. It was an unknown number, and in regular situations I wouldn't have answered, but now I did just to make Desiree shut up.

“Hey, it's Nick... Uhm…”

“Hi?” I said confused but also nervously. I wondered if he would shout at me for breaking Eric's heart, but it didn't really sound like he was mad.

“I know you and Eric have broken up, but I think you should come? He's a mess, and I'm afraid he will do something stupid. Please Della?” Nick said pleadingly. He didn't need to say more than that, I stood up at once and gave Desiree a look. She looked back at me, confused.

“I will be there as soon as I can.”

×××

I had hoped a reason would arise where I could go to Eric, but him feeling so awful that Nick felt forced to call me wasn't what I wanted. Nick told me he, John, and Granny had watched him in shifts because they didn't know what he could do in his anxiety. They had started to watch him after Granny had seen the prominent blue imprint of a belt around his neck, and he had asked for Granny’s anxiety medication he knew he had.

Together, Nick and Granny had locked away every sharp object or thing he could strangle himself with, in a wardrobe, even if Eric said they were silly. They didn't dare to take any risks because they knew Eric had an impulsive side that could come out when you least expected.

I borrowed mom and dad's car again, and my tears streamed down my cheeks while I was driving. Of course I could see why he wasn't boyfriend material. He used drugs and self harm to cope with life when I had the plan to be an adult and travel with my safe boyfriend. Eric handled everything in life turning against himself and was far from being safe. Still, I didn't want anyone else, and even if he didn't want me, I would stand by his side.

I had packed some things, ready to stay if it was needed, but left the bag in the car. I didn't know if Eric actually wanted me there, and it would maybe provoke him if it seemed like I thought I would stay. Instead, I walked up to his apartment with just my phone and keys in his hoodie's pocket and pushed the doorbell with a deep exhalation.

It was Nick who opened the door, dressed in a white tank and black sweats.

“Hey,” he just said, and let me go into Eric's apartment. I gave him a little strained smile and stopped awkwardly in the hallway. It didn't feel right to just go in when Eric had asked me to leave him alone the last time we saw each other.

“He's in bed; maybe you can talk to him?” Said Nick, who scratched his jaw uncomfortably.

I nodded a little and moved into the room at once. Standing next to Nick in the hallway felt just awkward, and it felt better to just go to Eric.

I could see long pale legs sticking out under the black cover and a tattooed back. His black hair melted into the pillow. I didn't know if he knew I was there, if he was sleeping, so I just sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for signs he was ready for my presence. He seemed to be sleeping, so I moved the cover away from his neck and saw the angry bruise on his skin. It wasn't just black and blue but there were also wounds where the leather had penetrated his skin. It really looked like someone had tried to decapitate him.

“Oh god…” I whispered to myself. “Have you cleaned the wound? It looks awful.”

I looked at Nick, who leaned against the armrest of the couch.

“Ehm… No…” he said guiltily. “He wouldn't accept that anyway. You really believe he would let me clean his wounds?”

I sighed and dragged my fingers through the back of Eric's greasy mullet. To touch him was a reflex, but it caused him to wake up, and he looked at me with heavy eyes. He had a longer stubble that didn't match his raven colored hair.

“Hey…” I said softly, but I could feel the nerves in my chest.

He looked at me for a few seconds, then turned his back to me. I stared at his broad back hurt and then at Nick, who smiled at me disappointedly and stood up.

“Do you want coffee?” He asked me.

I furrowed my brows in confusion.

“I think I should go?”

“That easily? I thought you loved him?” Asked Nick with a bit of attitude. It was obvious he was protective of Eric.

“Yes but… He doesn't want me here?”

“He doesn't want me here either. So, coffee?”

I looked between Nick and the back of Eric.

“Yes, thank you.”

The two of us sat on the couch while Eric continued to sleep in the bed. We didn't say anything because there wasn't that much to say. I knew Nick wouldn't ask what happened between me and Eric, and I wouldn't tell until I really must. After 45 minutes of us just staring between the window, our phones, and Eric's back, he turned around and looked at us. His eyes were tired and sad, and at once I had a bad conscience. Was it me who had destroyed him like this?

Nick stood up and walked to the kitchen when he noticed that Eric just looked at me, and I took a deep breath. I didn't know what would happen, even if I knew Eric wasn't the angry type. He looked at me with big eyes that just became more and more shiny.

“I miss my mom…” he suddenly said with a wobbly voice and let himself cry without restraint.

“Hey, hey…” I said with a beating heart, broken of seeing him like that. I ran up to the bed and sat down next to him and hugged him.

“You can be with your mom, you know.”

Eric shook his head and took a deep breath. He laid down on his back and pushed his hands against his eyes.

“I have pain everywhere…” he whispered, and I nodded just a little and started to pat his chest. I didn't know if it would be okay, but I knew that if he had anxiety, it was where the pain started.

“Harder…”

I patted harder, in a circle. It made Eric remove his hands from his face and look at me. We didn't say anything; we just looked into each other's eyes while I patted.

“I lost my job…” He said after a few minutes.

“No, why?” I said with an empathetic voice, but it seemed to just make everything worse, and his face shrank up because of new tears.

“I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

“I forgot I needed to go to work.”

It was typically him, especially when his emotions went wild. I nodded in response and continued to pat his chest.

“I can't do anything right…”

"Yes, you can! You're so great, baby.”

I felt awful hearing him talk about himself like that and laid down next to him and steered his face against mine. He looked between my eyes and lips, and I moved closer to him, encouraging him to kiss me, but he looked away.

“Delilah…” He paused and looked up at the ceiling before he turned his gaze to me. He shook his head a little, but I couldn't interpret what he wanted to say.

“It's broken between you and me. It's broken…” He turned his eyes away from me again and closed them tightly. I laid and looked at his perfect profile and felt my chest start to hurt in a similar way Eric's probably did.

“But… But you need me...” I whispered. Eric didn't say anything, even if I crawled closer to him, kissing his earlobe and patting his cheek.

Eric breathed heavily and licked his cracked lips.

“I just… I don't feel well at all…”

He said, and let me continue to touch his face. I nodded fast, eager to just make him feel better.

“We could talk if I felt better…” he whispered, and he laid his cheek heavy in my hand. My heart beated faster now; the thought of him being able to talk to me and give me another chance took over everything else. I could do anything for him to forgive me.

He looked at me with big, green, soulful eyes and I knew I would do anything for him, especially when his eyes started to swim with tears.

“I saw something at your place when I was there... You still have pain medications for your shoulder, right? If I could just get a couple so my chest pains would stop…” His tears ran down his cheeks again, and I wiped them away with my thumbs. “Just three or four, it wouldn't make a difference? It's just for now.”

I didn't even know that I'd left the morphine pills so he could find them and admired him for not having taken anything. Maybe he could just take a couple? Just now when he didn't feel well?

“Please Della… It feels like I will die, please...” He cried, and he made me nod a little, even if I hadn't really thought it through.

“Yeah?” He said it with a small, hopeful smile. It was the first smile he had given me that day, and it was so precious I couldn't stop myself from just smiling back.

“Yeah,” I said and nodded a little.

“Can you get them now?” he asked eagerly. His eagerness made me doubt my decision, but I had too bad a conscience to take my words back. He would never talk to me if it seemed like I played with him.

I nodded at his question, and he hugged my hand in his as a thank you. I squeezed it back a little bit too long but then stood up, walking out to the hallway. I prepared myself for Nick's questions because I knew he wouldn't get me. He seemed to believe Eric was a lost case, but it was me who had been with him the most the last few months, and I knew this was just now. He would see it was just now he would take the pills.

“Are you going now?” Nick asked, confused, when I was almost at the door.

“I will be back.”

“Okay? I just thought you felt he was more important,” he said with a shoulder shrug.

“I do!” It angered me that he even said such a thing. “I just need to get something.”

Nick looked at me up and down and stopped at my eyes. I couldn't look at him, so I looked away, and it was obvious enough for him to understand.

“You're going to give him drugs!”

“No!”

“You're going to get him drugs!”

“No! I just-”

“Are you so fucking slow that you would give an addict drugs! Huh??”

“I'm sorry!” I cried and dragged Eric's hoodie sleeve over my eyes. “I just want him to stop being in pain!”

“Why did I even call you?? You're just a naive little girl! Get the fuck out of here before you've destroyed him completely!”

I ugly cried from shame but also terror of seeing Nick that angry. I turned on my heel and ran out the door, down the stairs as fast as I could. It felt like Nick was chasing me even if I knew he wasn’t.

I jumped into my car while sobbing. First I just felt sorry for myself, for evil Nick had destroyed everything, but it didn't take a long time before I realized what I'd almost done.

I think about drugs all the time.

I could hear Eric's voice in my head and thought about how he had told me how much he still dreamt about drugs. If I had given him it, what would have happened then? I wanted to believe it would just be that time, but not even I was that stupid in reality. I just couldn't stand hearing him cry in pain.

I was a naive little girl, and Nick did the right thing by throwing me out. Everyone made it sound like Eric wasn't good for me, but everything pointed to how it was the other way around. 

××× 

Three days later, Robin agreed to meet me on the bench outside of the salon. He had Odin with him, who was much happier to see me than Robin was. I cuddled with him for a while even if Robin was waiting, but even he knew it would be calmer if Odin just got his attention. When I sat down on the bench, Robin gave me an unexpected first question. 

“So it's Eric that has started to raise him?” He looked at Odin, who had laid down on the ground in a way he wouldn't have done some months ago. I shrugged my shoulders and swallowed hard. 

“I guess so. He's really good with animals, and Odin really-” 

“I know he's good with animals; even our dog Max loved him more than me.” 

I laid my head to the side and gave him a sympathetic look. 

“No one loved him more than you.” 

“Yes, my parents, our relatives, even the dog! I had only my uncle on my side. Otherwise, it was so much about Eric all the time!” 

“Don't you think that's from your perspective, because he was the adopted son?” 

Robin made an irritated sound and shook his head. 

“The apartment he has now is his first home. Did you know that? He lived as a parasite on mom and dad all the time-” 

“Don't call him that; he has had a tough life.” I tried to say it softly, but it still provoked Robin. 

“He lived on the streets as long as he thought it was fun then he-” 

“No one thinks it's fun to live on the street! Come on!” I was annoyed now because Robin really tried to own the narrative, even if it all was completely unbelievable. 

“He did! Then he came home to mom and dad, and they needed to save him! It was me who fucking forced mom to get him into rehab! She couldn't take care of him when dad just died! And Eric didn't do anything else than get eaten up by heroin until he overdosed! Some nice son there!” He more or less shouted now, and I wanted to hush him because of his harsh words, but then he would probably get quiet instead. 

“So your dad died and Eric overdosed because of it?” 

“Oh shut the fuck up. That wasn't the reason.” 

I sighed and dragged my hands over my face. 

“But you took him to rehab then? It was nice of you, Robin. You might have saved his life.” I tried to talk to his more human side, and it seemed to work because he took a deep breath. 

“Yes, but it was totally fruitless. And now he did it again.” 

I furrowed my brows in confusion. Eric hadn't OD’d since I got to know him... 

“You remember when I said my uncle had hit his head and gotten into a coma? It was he who was in a coma. Eric. Everyone thought he would die. Can you understand now why he isn't good for you? He has been clean for like half a year.” 

I didn't listen to the last part of what he said. I just thought about where I was in life when Eric was close to death. I was dreaming. About him. 

My Eric. My dream man. 

×

[woundedsaints]

a girl at therapy complimented my joy division t shirt ;333

[shifting---patterns]

How Post-Punk Influenced Nowadays Fashion

It's been a long time since Malcolm McLaren opened his boutique "Sex" in the 1970s, and Vivienne Westwood equipped the Sex Pistols with their iconic outfits and sent them out onto King's Road. The approach back then was: "Being anti at all costs, against the establishment." Eventually, it turned into "Do It Yourself." It was fashionable because it tried not to be fashionable.

A few years later, members of Joy Division met at a Sex Pistols show in 1976 and started as a punk band. However, it soon evolved into something entirely different. When you listen to old Joy Division songs like "Warsaw" you can clearly hear the punk rock influences, but the band quickly started to deviate from the common motifs of the genre.

The music slowed down. The noisy guitar sound of punk was subdued to appear more intriguing, and Ian Curtis's existentialist lyrics, influenced by authors like Fyodor Dostoevsky, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Franz Kafka, focused not on chaos, rebellion, and hedonism but reflected his fears, physical sufferings, and the absurdity in the face of the zeitgeist and social influences of the 1970s and 1980s, marked by changes and political uncertainty, forced Joy Division to experiment.

They created not only something musically unique but also something aesthetic. For example, with their monochromatic designs on their album covers for "Unknown Pleasures," which is probably the third best-selling T-shirt in fast fashion stores, alongside Nirvana and the Ramones T-shirts. Joy Division ended in 1980 after Ian Curtis hung himself in his kitchen. They not only helped shape the sub-genre "Post-Punk" but were also the unofficial soundtrack of existentialism. The soundtrack that made Joy Division's music feel so genuine. Because it was genuine.

Of course, in the 1960s, there were artists who processed existential themes in their lyrics. A good example would be Lou Reed of The Velvet Underground, who, heavily influenced by literature, dealt with many serious topics in his lyrics. However, it wasn't just their music; it was also their appearance that defined Joy Division. On stage, in promo pictures, and in interviews.

Ill-fitting shirts from army surplus stores, old man's pants, a few pair of derbies, big raincoats. Everything that was atypical for the punk movement, and many other artists, including The Cure, The Smiths, Siouxsie Sioux and the Banshees, Bauhaus, Alien Sex Friend or Sisters Of Mercy, went in the same direction: Through a dark, introspective, sometimes minimalist, but avant-garde aesthetic, they set themselves apart from punk and society, and looking at bands from the Post-Punk Revival from the 2000s like Interpol, Iceage, Molchat Doma, Boy Harsher, or Cold Cave, it quickly becomes apparent that this aesthetic has proven itself for almost 50 years.

This trend was, of course, not only an inspiration for musicians but also for artists, fashion designers, architects, and many more.

One designer that immediately comes to mind is Antwerp-Six member Ann Demeulemeester from Belgium, whose influences clearly evoke artists like Siouxsie Sioux or Patti Smith but also the playful goth look of the 1980s era by Rei Kawakubo (Comme Des Garcons) or Japan's goth father himself: Yohji Yamamoto.

Her story begins in Antwerp, where she initially studied at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts and quickly got to know the other Antwerp-Six members. She and the Antwerp Six presented their collections at Fashion Week and quickly became highly esteemed designers, now considered among the greatest designers of all time. Many of Ann's collections featured songs by Patti Smith, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, or The Velvet Underground.

This alone shows the influence of Post-Punk on Ann Demeulemeester's designs. Her asymmetrical cuts and draperies, her monochromatic, Kawakubo and Yamamoto-inspired, mainly black designs were groundbreaking, bringing avant-garde ideas in a consumable form to the people.

Another noteworthy designer from Antwerp is Raf Simons and his collections. Raf Simons grew up in the 1980s and was deeply rooted in the punk and goth subculture, whose influence can be traced in many of his collections or directly referenced by Raf himself. Notable are his A/W96 collection, which includes all-black looks with jet-black dyed hair and long black overcoats, his A/W99 collection with direct Joy Division references, black cloaks, and Gothic looks on the runway.

Raf's most famous collection A/W02-03 Riot Riot Riot! A coveted collection featuring cutoff and distressed hoodies, repurposed military garments, and loaded with punk references through patches. Among them, a bomber jacket with a patch depicting the self-harming Richey James Edwards of the Manic Street Preachers.

Obviously, his A/W03-04 Closer collection with a direct collaboration with Peter Saville, the graphic designer of Factory Records, featuring iconic graphics from Joy Division, New Order, and more.

These two examples of designers actively influenced by this culture are just a fraction. These designers were punks or goths themselves. People influenced by the postmodern identity of the time and post-Soviet tradition. Post-Punk fashion embodies the music of the time it emerged and aligns with deeper considerations. So, it didn't take long for the entire fashion world to embrace this style, partly because "Gothic" and "Punk" became more mainstream, and partly because its aesthetic components were easy to design due to their often penetrating monochromatic minimalism.

Not only goths or avant-garde designers like Ann Demeulemeester, Martin Margiela or Rick Owens, deeply connected to the style and subculture of that time, but also luxury designers like Prada, Balenciaga or Bottega Veneta are incorporating it.

The look is romantic, dark, longing for death, partly edgy, partly overloaded. All aspects that exude a constant attraction from the clothing, as people are often drawn to "the other," sometimes even "the forbidden." The look can also be easily detached from the actual Post-Punk/Goth culture - something postmodernity excels at. The style of the Gothic culture can be perfectly broken down into its individual parts and used as a kind of aesthetic sandbox. Here a thick heavy chain, there's a choker, here big long earrings, add a pair of black high combat boots, a slim-fitted mesh shirt, and preferably paint the nails, and you're done. All things that houses like Prada, Marni, Bottega Veneta, for example, have done right.

What we see today in the Post-Punk-influenced style and what we interpret as avant-garde should actually be considered a modern tradition. Post-Punk fashion embodies the music and the spirit of the time it emerged and aligns with deeper existential discourses. The design language and atmosphere of that time are now used by traditional fashion houses to incorporate young designers into their ranks and increase their relevance, merely fulfilling their quota to be considered part of the traditional fashion pipeline of LV, Dior, Gucci, and Balenciaga. The avant-garde cannot be seen as so established. The rapid growth these companies have undergone to make billions and the inheritance method of finding a designer to take over the house are enough to profile themselves as industry magnates.

In a world where fashion constantly reinvents itself, the enduring legacy of post-punk culture persists as a modern tradition. From the raw, rebellious sounds of bands like Joy Division to the avant-garde designs of Ann Demeulemeester and Raf Simons, the essence of post-punk continues to captivate hearts and minds. As luxury fashion houses seamlessly incorporate this style, it's vital to recognize the roots and the countercultural spirit that birthed it.

The romantic, dark allure, the edgy overtones – they all beckon, inviting us to explore "the other," even the forbidden. Yet, amidst the mainstream adoption, a call echoes for authenticity. True avant-gardists, whether musicians or designers, carve their paths, declaring, "This is our thing." The new avant-garde emerges not just from runways but from the pulsating hearts of those deeply rooted in their subcultures.

In a world dominated by industry magnates, the journey of post-punk fashion from the underground to luxury houses is a testament to its enduring power. As we witness the evolution, let us celebrate the genuine, the authentic, and the countercultural voices shaping the new avant-garde.

So, whether draped in asymmetrical cuts or sporting a rebellious attitude, the message is clear: The post-punk spirit lives on, and the next wave of avant-garde creators is ready to make their mark, confidently declaring, "This is our thing."

Davis Jahn

[theunderestimator-2]

The late Adrian Borland, genius frontman of The Sound, in an Ian Curtis t-shirt while on holiday in Crete, Greece, back in 1992, a few years after the disbandment of The Sound.

Looking at this photo, one can't help but think of the tragic end which connects those two, apart from the fact they were both the rare kind of talent you only get a few times in each generation and that The Sound seem to take up where Joy Division left off.

faroutmagazine.co.uk/ "…Borland continued to release music in a solo career over the course of the ’90s with limited success, all the while battling with his depression, hospitalised on several occasions for psychiatric care. In 1999, unable to overcome his mental condition, Borland committed suicide by jumping in front of a moving express train near Wimbledon station in London. One can’t help but draw a final parallel between Adrian Borland and Ian Curtis of Joy Division, who more famously met an end by his own hand in 1980… …As the past has told us, the most creative minds among us are also the most troubled. The art of many of these troubled minds will naturally connect most with those who have struggled with similar internal battles…"

(via)

[twodimensionalboyfriend]

Aki spa day :))

wc: ~2.1k read time: ~8 minutes

༉‧₊˚.¸♡ master list✧ '*•༉

cw: established relationship, fem reader (GN throughout, calls her a beautiful girl at the end bc im kind of a whore for that shit), fluff, make out (i wouldn’t say it’s spicy but like it’s kinda seasoned i guess), mildly ooc aki but only because he’s experiencing happiness and idk if that man has ever known an ounce of joy,

if there are an content warnings you think i missed, please tell me so!! i’ll add them to this post and remember to add them to future ones!! :) ♡ ♡

and pls pls like and reblog and reply!! literally if you interact i will kiss you on the mouth

Being a public safety devil hunter is no one’s dream job. While the pay is pretty great and you get plenty of PTO, the death, tragedy, and destruction you see on a weekly basis is not always worth it. The only reason you’ve stuck around this long is because somehow you lucked out with your partner.

Aki.

He’s so mellow and kind and smart and he is so so handsome. These last few years with him have been some of the most difficult of your life, but he makes it manageable. The two of you have been partners for the last 3 years. You both have your eyes set on killing the gun devil, but you know that deep down, it's only Aki who believes he can actually get the job done.

Truthfully, you wished for an easy life with him. All you want is to work a usual 9 to 5 (preferably one that won’t kill you), come home, make dinner and have a quiet evening with the man you love. God, how does something so simple sound like such an unattainable fantasy?

On your days off, you like to lean in to the fantasy a little bit. You took off this Friday in return for working a mission the following Sunday, so you slept in, made a nice brunch, ran some errands and decided that you were going to do a full skin care spa day at home to relieve some stress. It’s rare that you get the chance to take time to take care of yourself, so this was definitely needed after a very long week at work. Which is what you were doing when Aki came home that evening.

You heard the door open and his post-work-day sigh, “y/n, you home?”

“In the bathroom!”

Aki walked in and couldn’t help but smile a little bit. You were in an old t-shirt of his that was just a bit too big and some lounge pants with cats on them. You had your hair clipped out of your face and were applying under-eye patches. He leaned in and kissed the top of your head. It surprises him every time that no matter what you’re doing or wearing, he still thinks you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen.

“How was work today?” you asked.

“Could have been worse. Makima has Power and Denji training with Kishibe non-stop since the ambush on the devil hunting divisions, so it was nice not having them around all day,” he went on, “But I know that she knows something we don’t about the recent ambush attacks and why they targeted Denji. She’s not telling us and I need to figure out what it is and why. Oh, and we also killed a roach devil, so that was pretty gross. Just felt like a long day."

You sighed. He’s always cared too deeply. You’ve tried to tell him that he shouldn’t be so invested in the job and that he should just treat devil hunting as a paycheck ad nothing more, because at the end of the day you all know that you’re replaceable. It hurts when you see him coming home carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for a job that would replace him in less than a week.

You step towards him, “I’m sorry that work was rough. I mean, when is it not but, you know.” Your hands reach up and pull his hair tie out, letting his hair fall down, “How about this? You shower and then change into comfy clothes, and I can give you a little massage and face treatment? Having clean skin and being taken care of always helps me unwind,” you said with a smile.

Aki thought about this. Honestly? He felt exhausted. He was hungry and was looking forward to dinner and sleeping. But you looked so cute with your under eye patches, and the idea of being pampered and loved by his partner was not at all unappealing. “Okay. That sounds.. nice, actually.”

“Yay! Okay, step one is to go take a shower and wipe off the bad energy from work today. Take your time and enjoy the warm water! I’d join you but I literally just showered,” you chuckle and finished up your routine with some lip balm. .

“I mean you can never be too clean—”

“Yeah yeah, get your ass in there,” you pushed him and he laughed softly. You never wanna go a day in your life without hearing it.

About 15 minutes later, you hear the bathroom door open and Aki’s footsteps shortly following. “Alright missy," he walked in to your shared bedroom wearing a black t-shirt and some grey sweatpants, “What’s step two?”

“You washed your face in the shower, yeah?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“‘Kay, go lay down in bed. I’ll be there in a sec!”

Puzzled yet smiling, Aki went to the bedroom. A moment later, you came in with some of your skin care. Bottles, tubes and other containers clinked with each other as you walked.

“Uhh, am I still gonna have skin after this?” he teased, “Wait what are those for?” he pointed at the strawberry barrettes in your hand.

“Clipping your hair back!" You dump your things onto your nightstand beside you, "I figured having it loose and clipped back was more comfortable after it’s gets tied back all day.”

Your hands reached up and gently pulled his bangs out of his face and clipped them back. His hair was always so soft and shiny, which you always found unfair considering he does nothing but shampoo and conditioner after tying it up all day.

Aki hummed in agreement. He loved when you played with his hair. He didn't know another person's hands could feel so good, “A correct assumption,” he smiled as you finished tucking his bangs back.

“Okay, so first I’m going to tone your skin then I’ll use some relaxing serums. I don’t know how, but you are blessed with very clear skin, so I don’t want to go crazy with cleansers and peels,” you beginning to apply a toner with some cotton rounds.

“Peels? Wait, will I actually still have skin after this?”

“Hey! Trust the process,” you laughed and bopped him in the forehead with the cotton pad.

And yet again, that little fantasy sneaks up on you from your subconscious. A life where you can treat and love your boyfriend like this. A life where you hear his laughter more often than his weeping. A life where he smiles more than he wears that stoic glower he has all the time. The way he melts and relaxes under your touch is something that is so special to you. You wished you could do it for him more often.

“Okay now I’m gonna use some niacinamide for any discoloration you have,” you say as you drop some serum on his face

“Do I have discolora—” he gasped, “That stuff is cold!”

“Relax you baby, and no you don’t because life is very unfair,” you felt him chuckle as you began massaging the product into his face. His skin was soft under your gentle hands and you could feel his breathing slowing as he let himself ease into your touch. It felt nice to take your time and love him like this. Life is always so fast and intense for Aki. He deserved to have these slow and soft moments.

You tapped his face gently, "Time for eye patches, like the ones I had earlier.”

“What are they for?”

“The ones I’m gonna put on you are just hydrating with a little bet of retinol for any fine lines. And while those sit I’ll tweeze your brows and depuff your face with a face roller!” you say as you crack open the patches.

“And you do this every night??” Aki asked.

“Oh god no, this is like the relaxation treatment I do when I get a day when I finally have nothing to do. I wish I had the time and energy to do this every day,” you joked. “Okay eye patches are on! Now sit up, because I don’t trust myself to not fuck up your eye brows while you’re upside down.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I trust you either,” he grunted as he sat up.

Once he was right side up, you began to position yourself sat in front of him but you yelp when he pulls you into his lap by surprise. You felt your heart speed up a bit when you felt his groin press into yours and his hands settled on your hips. You stutter, “woaHA-Aki! Uhm, am I..” you swallowed, “Uhm— are you comfortable?”

“I feel just fine,” He said in an innocent tone, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. Aki loved to pick on you like this. It’s rare that you stumble or get flustered out in the field or with all your friends, and he thinks you’re so cute when you’re a little worked up, “Are you comfortable, y/n?”

“You think you’re so funny, huh?” you asked.

Fine, two can play that game.

You grabbed his face and pulled him towards your lips. The way his mouth instantly opened for your tongue turned you on even more and you rolled your hips into his. The groan he made was so sexual it made you shiver. Your favorite thing about loving Aki is the way it feels like he savors every touch you two share. Every time his mouth and tongue move against yours, it made you feel loved and wanted. Though he always gives you that feeling no matter what he did.

His grip on your hips tighten as you ran your fingers through his hair. You smiled into the kiss as you felt him get harder underneath you when you pulled on it. Gotcha.

You slow the momentum and then give him one last sweet kiss, “Okay, time to start on your brows!”

He had a buffering look on his face as he realized what you meant, “W-wait, c’mon— That’s not fair!”

You began to work, “I don’t understand what you mean? Thought we were just being silly? Just playing? Joshing around if you w—”

“Alright missy, you’ve made your point, very funny ha ha now finish up my face.” But his smile gave away what his tone tried to hide.

And so, for the next few minutes you hummed some song stuck in your head while Aki occasionally hissed as you tweezed.

“Okay all done!” You said as you plucked the last hair.

“So? How do I look?”

“Well, not everyone’s can look as good as mine but you’re definitely doing better than before!” you giggled as you handed him a mirror.

“Very funny,” he looked at his brows, “Oh woah, they look super clean.”

“The power of facial grooming. I’m gonna finish you off with some moisturizer and your skin will be free of toxins.”

“What toxins?”

“I don’t know, ask the influencers, because apparently our bodies are full of them,” you said, applying the cream to his face as he chuckled. And yet again, you wished life was a little bit different.

Aki, on the other hand, loves spending time with you. He would do almost anything if it made you happy, and didn’t think about why until recently. You had this weird ability to make it seem like everything was going to be okay. He wants to keep having these moments with you to help drown out the sounds of everything else in his life. Aki realized, up until now, he was just surviving through whatever life threw at him, but with you he wants to actually live through it. He wants to take you out and enjoy the evening. Actually cook and taste good food, not just tolerate whatever gave him enough to keep going. He doesn’t have to just put up with the people in his life. Maybe... and just maybe... Aki can actually love and care for someone again.

He knows this line of work is going to kill him in a few years, and that Aki has goals that he just can't give up on. He doesn’t even think he deserves to live a good life with you, truthfully. Yet he’s decided to be selfish and try to have it anyways

He snaps out of his thoughts, “What are you craving for dinner?”

“Pork onigiri?”

“Pork onigiri you will have,” he leaned in for a kiss and said, “I love you very much. Thank you for always taking care of me, beautiful girl” he kissed you again.

You pulled away, “Of course. I’ll always take care of you; I love you too.”

He gave you one last peck before getting up and walking to the kitchen for dinner.