#dc shoes t shirt

[summerchick13]

My OOTD for April 1, 2020

more classwork

[designmiss]

T-shirt Monster World Rally Team DC https://www.design-miss.com/t-shirt-monster-world-rally-team-dc/ DC ha realizzato in collaborazione con Monster la t-shirt del World Rally Team. La potete acquistare qui. Di seguito anche un fantastico video di una Gymkhana con Ken Block.    

[joshslater]

Introduction

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

Andrew stared at the door, not sure what to expect. He wanted to prepare himself that this could be somethings humiliating or painful. He wasn't wearing anything embarrassing, just his normal jeans, sneakers, and polo shirt. If it ended up online at least he wasn't wearing a video game T-shirt, or worse, an anime one.

Just after he had finished his lunch in the cafeteria Jack Thomson had walked over to him. At first Andrew thought he was in the way of someone else, someone Jack knew. "Andrew, right?" the towering athlete had asked him. "Yeah?" he had answered, trying to figure out why one of the star players in the basket team knew his name. Jack was a senior about to graduate and Andrew was freshman about to start sophomore year. They had nothing in common.

"Your last class for today ends at four, right?" "Yeah." "Good. Come by my house right after. Hillview North 680."

It wasn't a question. Andrew squeaked out a confused "sure". Jack slapped him on the shoulder, said "my man", and walked away.

Andrew had felt bad all afternoon, trying to make sense of it all. His first year was almost over, so some sort of hazing wasn't likely. Not this late. He hadn't been bullied. Not in that personal way anyway. Just some people shouting "Nerd" or worse when he wore T-shirts with comic characters too far from Marvel and DC.

The door wasn't going to give any answers, so he pressed the doorbell and a metallic gong was heard just on the other side of the door. It took a minute, then the door opened with Jack in the doorway. Of course basket players are tall, but that fact is often lost when you see them next to each other or in large spaces like the school cafeteria. Here filling up the doorframe of a residential home made much more of an impact.

"Andrew, right?" Jack had changed into navy blue sweatshirt and sweatpants. His hair looked damp and there was a strong smell of cheap deodorant. The same question as at school, like he hadn't bothered to remember him clearly enough then. "Yeah" "Come on in" He stepped aside and let Andrew pass through him into the house. "You're a team player, right? I want you to try something," he continued after having closed the door. He took a few steps to a duffle bag on a chair by the door and fished up something white and folded. He handed it over to Andrew. Andrew shook out the cloth and looked in disbelief at the white compression pants. "You want me to wear these? Why?" "Just do it and I'll show you. There's a bathroom if you're shy." He nodded towards a door.

Andrew decided against using it, kicked off his sneakers, undid his jeans, stepped out of them. He then stepped into the compression pants, which were surprisingly tight. They are supposed to be tight, he realized, but they were clearly not Jack's size.

"Now these," Jack continued, holding out a pair of white socks and blue and white basket shorts. "The sock for the right foot has an R on it."

Andrew stepped into the shorts as well, then looked for somewhere to sit down to swap out the socks. "Here!" Jack grabbed the duffle bag off the chair and dropped it on the floor next to Andrew's jeans and shoes. All while Andrew was taking off and putting on socks Jack had a very focused expression on his face.

"Take off your shirt as well." "Really? Why am I doing this?" "It's the last thing. Just do it."

Andrew couldn't hear anyone else in the house. If this was a prank he couldn't figure it out. He wasn't ashamed of his body. There just wasn't that much of it.

"Now follow me. Lie down on this couch." He did. "Now just relax, close your eyes, and listen to this." Jack put a pair of headphones on Andrew with what sounded like white noise. He felt really tired all of a sudden. Somewhere in the noise was a voice. Perhaps not a voice, but an idea. He must be a baller, why else would he be wearing baller shorts, the idea suggested. Why else indeed?

[fancyfade]

NTT characters in the mid 2000s by Fade31415

[image: a DC fanart with a simple shading style (like cell shading) featuring characters from new teen titans, each wearing civilian clothing that was popular in the 2000s. Raven is wearing a floor-length jean skirt and a spaghetti strap top, and she is crossing her arms and looking down at tara disapprovingly. Tara is wearing loose cargo pants (with zip at the knee to transform into shorts) and a brown T shirt, and she is sticking her tongue out at raven and flipping her off. Victor is wearing denim capris and an orange turtle neck shirt with a knit grey hat, and he has one arm around Tara and one around Kory and is looking down at tara while smiling slightly but also trying to pull her a bit away from raven. Kory is wearing a skin tight tube top rainbow striped dress and pink platform heels, and she has one arm behind vic and is smiling widely. dick and donna are clustered together. Donna is wearing very low cut boot cut jeans with a wide belt and a crop top red shirt and a pink cap, and dick is wearing skinny jeans, red shoes, a vest and a white t shirt. garfield logan is wearing khaki cargo pants and a white hoodie that has his face on it and says “we love gar” and a black trucker hat with a purple visor, and wally is wearing jeans and a yellow polo.end image]

So I am a huge DC nerd and keep a continuously updating timeline to try to figure out when comics "would" have happened if now is the present.

According to my timeline, NTT should be 2007/2008 ish when it just starts.

So... I had to draw them in 2000s era fashion obviously! Since I am extremely Un Fashionable, I had to google what people wore back then even tho I was alive. I can remember the cargo pants. I was so into cargo pants. I think I had some that were just like Terra's

further decisions:

@raven-harlot wound up pickng out raven’s outfit when i was posting potential ref pics in discord XD

Tara is dressed how I would like to dress back then, but she has the feathered hair i didn’t have. she’s flipping off raven b/c she doesn’t like her. vic is telling her to be nice b/c he likes tara AND raven

raven knitting vic’s knit hat. but not his turtle neck, he bought that.

i wound up changing how i draw kory’s hair b/c i have a hard time drawing it in the perez style.

gar has a fanshirt of himself.

wally just wound up in a polo and jeans b/c i cannot imagine him keeping up on fashion trneds sorry wally. i also reffed a long distance runner for his body type and he looks so scrawny now XD

[angelicguy]

walking down the street in a red, brandless snapback and some beats on, light up DC shoes giant basketball shorts a gangster pooh bear t shirt on bobbing my head in an exaggerated manner: Sip sip sippin on orphan tears!

[myers-meadow]

May I humbly request a Mood Board for Percy? I loved the one you did for Ellie!

Here you go!

This moodboard is heavily inspired by the fic you wrote about Bo taking Percy's picture ^^. It took a good while to find an AC/DC shirt, but I think it's nice to match with how you envisioned those moments between them. The other elements represent other parts of their shared bond (books), and Percy's vintage aesthetic. And Macavity! I tried finding a cat that resembled him :)). Hope you like it!

Credits:

cat: transparensies; pen: trash-pngs; books: transparensies; book: trash-pngs; skirt: parnini; t-shirt: 666pngs; shorts: png-daddy; shoes: trash-pngs; pictures: moodboardpngs; book bag: moodboardpngs; camera: clearpngs; clock: trash-pngs; roll of paper: trash-pngs; bottle: trash-pngs; typewriter: fishful-png.

[lavsnz]

post the fic the world needs to read it!!!!!

okay a solid 2 people asked for this (including you, anon even though you've already read it). i'm very nervous, but here it is! enjoy this little firstprince sickfic. the characters are from red, white, and royal blue, a book by casey mcquiston. i hope you guys like it!

Alex sighed a breath of relief as he walked in the door to the brownstone. Despite being in DC for just over 48 hours, the trip was exhausting and he was ready to relax with his boyfriend, his person, when Henry got home from work. Alex hung up his messenger bag on the coat rack, took off his shoes, and made his way to the kitchen. On the drive back home, he decided he was going to make Henry’s favorite for dinner, some steak tacos with Mexican rice and beans. Alex walked past the living room, just making it into the kitchen, before he paused. He swore he saw a body on the couch, so he backtracked back into the living room. Sure enough, there was a suspiciously human shaped blanket mound on the couch. As Alex walked closer, he was able to see some dusty blonde hair peeking out from the blankets. He smiled and laughed quietly to himself before pulling back the blankets just a bit so he could see Henry’s face. His boyfriend was fast asleep with little puffs of air coming from his slightly open mouth. Alex frowned for a moment then kissed the top of Henry’s head. After admiring Henry for just a few seconds longer, he made his way to their bedroom to change. 

When he opened his top drawer, Alex noticed that his favorite and softest t-shirt was missing. When he opened his second drawer, he noticed that his favorite pair of sweatpants were also missing, and out of curiosity went to his section of their closet only to find his biggest and warmest sweatshirt missing as well. He ended up changing into the comfiest clothes he still had in his drawers and headed to their bathroom, specifically the medicine cabinet. He grabbed a thermometer, fever reducers, decongestants, tissues, a bottle of cough syrup, and cough drops. He knew it was probably overkill, but his love of lists made it easy to remember every little thing he may need for when Henry wakes up, that way he shouldn’t have to leave him to grab anything. 

Alex filled up two cups with water (his with ice and Henry’s without) before making his way back to the living room. He quietly placed all of the supplies on the side table, noticing the piles of dirty and clean handkerchiefs, and sat down next to his boy. He pulled Henry closer, earning a content sigh from him. 

“Hey darlin’” Alex whispered as he caressed Henry’s cheek, “I’m home.”

Henry stirred for a few moments before slowly blinking sleepy eyes up at Alex. “Oh. You’re home,” he said, voice raspy with sleep and a hint of something else.

“I am,” Alex replied, smiling down at Henry. “Why are you home?” he asked gently.

“Not feeling well” Henry muttered and followed up with some sniffles. 

Alex shook his head. He pulled back the covers to pull Henry as close as he  could, essentially placing Henry in his lap. “Oh baby,” Alex sighed, “what happened to you?”

Henry took a handkerchief out of the pocket of the sweatshirt he was wearing (Alex’s favorite sweatshirt) and wiped at his nose a few times while he sniffled. “When I woke up again after you left from your trip I wasn’t feeling well. I went to the shelter anyway and the staff noticed but let it slide. Today I was sent home because they could tell how poorly I was feeling and didn’t want me to get sicker or get anyone else sick. I didn’t have the energy to fight them on it, so I left and got home a few hours ago. When did you get here?” He asked with even more sniffles. 

“About fifteen minutes ago. H, why didn't you tell me you’re feeling poorly?”

“Look at you picking up on British slang,” Henry said with a small smirk, “I didn’t want to worry you and I did take some medicine. I was hoping it would do the job but I’m a bit worse today. I knew you were coming home so I figured I could wait it out until you got here to tell you.” 

Alex rolled his eyes and lifted Henry’s chin with his index finger, slowly guiding their lips to meet. They’re about to touch, when Henry cuts him off with a sneeze. 

“Ah-ah-MMPCH!”  Henry sneezes right into Alex’s shoulder. “Alex, I’b so so-sor- AHMPCH! Sorry,” Henry says between sniffles and another sneeze into Alex’s shoulder. 

“Bless you twice, and no need to apologize,” Alex replies, brushing Henry’s hair out of his face. Alex smiles to himself as Henry grabs his handkerchief and blows his nose. “You and your handkerchiefs,” he remarks. 

Henry wrinkles his nose and lets out another “Ah-ahmp-AhMPCHO! Goodness, bless me,” Henry says.

“Bless you indeed,” Alex says. “Ya comin’ down with something?”

“I think I’ve caught a bit of a cold, I’m definitely ill. But yes, I do use handkerchiefs. I’m assuming it’s a habit that I can’t manage to let go of. Gran always made us use them, she had me keep them in my jacket pockets because of my insistent hay fever and because I’m very prone to colds. Always obsessed with keeping us prim and proper in front of the public and at home. Plus they’re much softer than tissues and environmentally friendly,” he adds with a few more sniffles. 

There’s a few moments of silence as Alex rubs up and down Henry’s back. Alex then tips Henry’s chin up toward his face and places soft kisses on Henry’s lips. Henry kisses back just as softly, humming in content. 

“You probably shouldn’t kiss me, love. I’m ill.”

“Baby, I’ve had arguably worse of your bodily fluids all over me than the mucus or snot coming out of your nose,” Alex says with a smirk. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine. And if I catch anyone’s cold, I’m glad it’s yours.”

Henry smiles and blushes and starts kissing Alex again. They’re sleepy kisses so they’re a bit messy, but sleepy soft kisses from Henry are Alex’s favorite. Alex smiles into the kiss and starts to open his mouth just a bit when Henry pulls away quickly with yet another sneeze aimed into Alex’s shoulder. 

“AHMPTCH! Uh, god bless me,” Henry says with his face still buried into Alex’s shoulder.

“Salud! Oh you really a- bless you- are sick huh? Let’s get some - bless you - medi- bless - medicine because clearly you- Jesus H, you gonna live?” Alex asks with a small and concerned laugh.

“Y-yeah,” Henry sniffs.

“Henry, you gotta stop stifling sweetheart, that’s probably why you’re sneezing up a storm. Stifling isn’t productive, doesn’t let you get out the sneezes fully.”

Henry rubs his nose against Alex’s shirt and grabs his handkerchief to wipe it more. “Habit again. Gran made us stifle because she said sneezing in public and around others is disruptive and impolite. She also made us bless and excuse ourselves for the disruption our sneezes caused. ”

Alex watches as Henry’s face scrunches up and his breath begins to hitch, a sign of a sneeze (or multiple) ready to come from his very red nose. “Let it out, H, you’ll feel so much better; I promise.”

Henry does just that, with loud and wet sneezes into his handkerchief this time “AHMPTCHOO! AMPTCHOO! Oh - oh! Ah - ah - AHMPTCHUU! APTCHOO! Oh, fuck me.” Henry mutters and blows his nose harshly.

“Later darlin’” Alex smirks. “And bless you,” he says, kissing Henry’s nose once Henry removes the handkerchief that was covering it.

“Later? Alex, I’m ill.”

“Yes you are, and sex is a wonderful decongestant, which you could use,” Alex replies with a mischievous grin. Alex’s grin grows as Henry rolls his eyes.

“And if I sneeze on you? Or my nose starts getting all runny? You wouldn’t mind?” Henry asks timidly.

“No baby, not at all. I don’t get grossed out easily and a runny nose and sneezes would help you so much, you’re so congested. And, sneezing is like one eighth of an orgasm, so you’d feel really good,” Alex says with a smirk and wiggles his eyebrows.

“God, you’re unbearable sometimes and you managed to make sex with a cold sound sexy. You drive me up a wall, Claremont-Diaz,” Henry says with a sniffle. “I love you,” he adds after a beat.

“Just tryin’ to take care of my prince charming. I love you too, ​​Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor,” Alex teases, earning an eye roll from Henry. Now get some sleep. When you wake up we’ll head to the bedroom if you want to so we can try to work some of that cold out of you and then I’ll make tacos.”

“Steak?” Henry asks, and Alex nods. “God, you're spoiling me, love you so much.”

“Love you so much too. Sleepy time, baby.”

Henry does just that after curling into Alex’s side even further. Alex rubs Henry’s back slowly, matching the inhales and exhales of Henry’s breath, trying to slow them down. He moves on to playing with Henry’s hair, the easiest and quickest way to get Henry to fall asleep. He pushes down the small amount of guilt he has for not being there, and grants himself peace of mind knowing he’s there now. He loves taking care of all versions of Henry, sleepy soft from sickness included. He hopes Henry recovers quickly and is excited to help him feel better in more than one way (and for more than one reason). He presses soft kisses to Henry’s head and after Alex is sure Henry’s asleep he pulls out his phone. He takes a quick picture of Henry in his peaceful state and texts Cash, making sure that they have the ingredients he needs for soup,  tacos, rice, and beans. He decides he’ll let Henry sleep for just a little bit as he wants Henry to be able to sleep through the night as well. Alex begins to drift off himself, happy to be warm and cuddled under blankets with his favorite person, his person.

[hoes4hoseok]

how you get the girl prologue: somi’s big chance

series masterlist

your neighbor, heeseung, gets on your nerves. he’s full of himself, makes more noise than all of your neighbors combined in the middle of the night, spreads anti-superhero propaganda in your political science class, and, unfortunately, is the most attractive man you have ever laid eyes on.

pairing :: lee heeseung x fem!reader genres/au’s :: superhero au, neighbors to lovers, enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, angst if you squint, nightwing!heeseung chapter warnings :: mentions of and references to sex, food word count :: 0.8k tag list (open!) :: @thejjrl @grace1852 @tsunchani @hanniiesuckle17 @mjr4fnaf1997​ @goldenhypen​ author’s note :: prior knowledge of nightwing and DC comics is not necessary to read this work! also ty to @lethekoo :) love you sal playlist :: here’s to you

“Lee Heeseung, I know you’re in there!” Y/n yelled, knuckles white from knocking at her neighbor’s door so persistently, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’ve talked about this, right? Not between 1 and 6 AM?”

After no less than thirty seconds, she huffed, stuffing her now frigid hand back into the pocket of her sweatpants to retrieve her phone as she turned back to her door in defeat. It was worth a shot.

“Still caught up at the Scoop—wanna have pizza and crash at my place?”

Y/n smiled at Somi’s text, typing out a quick message of agreement as she pushed her door open with her shoulder to grab her bag from behind it.

Just then, she heard a door swing open. Yeah, she was knocking on his door, but she didn’t actually expect an answer—

“Y/n?”

Oh, god.

“Was that you knocking?” trying her best to forget that he was literally getting it on with someone in his room a minute ago, she turned back towards Heeseung, who seemed to have finished just in time to catch her before she left. ‘Lucky you,’ Y/n thought.

A white t-shirt and navy blue sweatpants. Did he own any other clothing? This thought, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that maybe it would be easier to do this if he didn’t look so good while treating his neighbor like gum under his shoe.

Y/n took a step closer to his tall frame, “Yeah, it was me. Look, I’m fed up with you breaking our agreement. I will report you to the building manager if this continues, Heeseung,” It’s important to note that at this point, Heeseung was grinning, leaning up against the doorframe, and enjoying your vexation with his presence. She furrowed her eyebrows in disbelief. “I’m serious. I don’t know what happened in the past couple months that’s given you the idea that you can keep your neighbors up until midnight against their will, but it has got to stop,”

She watched Heeseung scoff as he looked off to the side, his tongue rubbing against the inside of his cheek, “Wow, and I thought Somi was a talker,”

And she thought Jake had an attitude. But she was going to be the bigger person here. The bigger person. “Just try to have a little sympathy here. All that I've asked is that you wrap up your nightly sex before midnight…at least while I’m still around,”

Heeseung glanced at the floor (hopefully in guilt), “Sure, yeah, midnight. Sorry, it just slips my mind,”

Man, it’s really hard to stay mad at Lee Heeseung. Even if he spent the last two hours banging someone in his apartment that wasn’t her.

“It’s…fine,” Y/n sighed, tucking her phone back into her pocket, “I’ve still got eight hours until the first class of the quarter, so you didn’t really cause any problems this time around,”

“Really? You have class in eight hours?” Heeseung tilted his head in curiosity, “me too,”

“Ha! Political science with your insufferable neighbor?!” Somi exclaimed, taking a swig of  water, “I would pay to see that,”

“Yeah, very funny,” Y/n gazed up at the ceiling of the dark bullpen, closing your eyes soon after to take a breath. “I just need him to keep his lips shut and I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s just a few months. Not much could go wrong,”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine,” Somi shrugged, “what’s he gonna do? Flirt with your teacher?”

Worse. As she’d realize soon enough, he could do worse.

“No fucking way,” Somi groaned, taking a bite of pizza, “check out tomorrow’s paper,”

“‘Crime Rates Soar Upon 2021 Arrival of Nightwing’...what? There’s no way that’s true, right?”

“It isn’t,” Somi shook her head, “the data was taken out of context. The Bludhaven police are corrupt, we both know that. Most crimes happen right under their noses but they don’t move a finger because they serve the upper class,”

“...so, you think the crime Nightwing is preventing isn’t even counted in the census,”

“Exactly!” Somi exclaimed in frustration, “and if I was writing real articles instead of tabloid-worthy ones about…” she glanced down at the notebook before her, “...how to win a woman’s heart, then maybe more people would know that,”

Y/n lay her hand on Somi’s shoulder, rubbing it gently in consolation, “why not give it a shot? I can cover your tabloid article. It beats working in the mailroom,”

Somi looked back at her friend, eyebrows raised, “I’m sorry, am I dreaming, or did you just suggest we disobey Mr. Kim?”

“Screw Mr. Kim and the men that got the promotion you deserved,” Y/n asserted, “Write the article. And if he doesn’t want it, we sell it to another news agency. Or just publish it online!”

Ah, if only it were that easy.

“Oh, wait, before we leave, can I borrow your printer? Mine is broken.”

next ☆ series masterlist ☆ masterlist

[summerchick13]

My OOTD for June 2, 2020

going on a run

t-shirt: Hot Topic

leggings: Reebok

sneakers: Reebok

[one-rosy-sock]

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt. 

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner’s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

You know, it's kind of a travesty that Black Canary hasn't had a formal sidekick yet. Like, c'mon DC, give her a spunky goofball who listens to female punk bands and accidentally breaks lightbulbs when she sings along to loud. I think she deserves it

if dc absolutely had to make lian a teenager, they really should have just let her be dinah's sidekick. it would have been so perfect. dinah's big character thing of the year can be that she gets glasses and therefore doesn't realize this "shoes" kid is the same little girl she used to babysit every weekend because, as we've all seen from hannah montana, changing your hair color makes you virtually unrecognizeable

lian ends up meeting her father again when dinah brings her to the arrowfam's annual Fuck Oliver Queen pinata party and across the room roy spots his daughter with blue hair and a black canary t-shirt and they recognize each other like

dc hire me please you need to have me writing for you pLEASE

[openheartforeverinmyheart]

Cozy Comforts Tag Game

Thank you for the tag lovely @cariantha ❤️!

Comfort foods: Anything and everything chocolate, pizza, cheeseburgers, French fries, chips, nachos, every kind of noodles, pasta, ice-cream, cookies, pancakes, tacos, dumplings, tteokbokki, sushi, most things spicy.

Comfort movies: Pride and Prejudice (2005) (also the 1995 series), Dead Poets Society, Before Sunrise, Tangled, The Emperor's New Groove, Atlantis: The Lost Empire, Atlantis: Milo's Return, every rendition of Sherlock Holmes, Before We Go, The Amazing Spider-Man, Iron Man.

Comfort clothing: Sweatpants, oversized sweatshirts and jumpers, band and comic T-shirts, running shoes (especially Nike or Adidas ones)

Comfort songs: Hamilton soundtrack, anything by Hozier, ABBA, The Neighbourhood, Arctic Monkeys, The Technicolors and Chase Atlantic, most Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey and Harry Styles (especially Harry's House), Babylon by 5 Seconds of Summer, Back in Black by AC/DC, Dark Red by Steve Lacy, Death of a Bachelor and Roaring 20s by Panic! At The Disco, Figure You Out by VOILÀ, For the First Time by Mac DeMarco, Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles, The Adults Are Talking by The Strokes, Motley Crew by Post Malone, Mujeriego by Ryan Castro, N5 by Lali, QUE PRETENDES by J Balvin and Bad Bunny, Me Porto Bonito by Bad Bunny and Chencho Corleone, Mayores by Becky G and Bad Bunny, TAJIN by Becky G and Guaynaa, NDA by Billie Eilish... (If I continue I'll never stop lol).

Comfort books: Harry Potter, Percy Jackson & the Olympians (Rick Riordan), all works of Jane Austen, Sherlock Holmes (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle), Dracula (Bram Stoker), The Picture of Dorian Gray (Oscar Wilde).

Comfort games: Choices, Romance Club, The Wayhaven Chronicles, (for game night: Monopoly, Pictionary)

Tagging: @peonierose, @mvalentine, @ofmischiefandmedicine.

[merppppppppppppppppp]

Look me in the face and tell me that a thick asf, black, bookworm fem reader is the next door neighbor of the sexy twitch streamer or cam boy Shinsou, who wants nothing more than to make you his and have you screaming his name doesn’t sound hot! I dare you 🗿 She’s so shy and sweet and Shinsou just wants to know how loud she can be after the two get to know each other more

Omg that’s so hot 🤤 if y’all can’t tell, I love men secretly pining and lusting after unknowing female readers. ESPECIALLY if they are shy, nerdy, and or curvy/thicc girls. So Inhad fun with this

Girl Next Door (Shinsou x Black Reader)

Quirkless AU

(Art by: @raikiriart)

Shinsou kept his blinds opened when he gamed. He always joked with his viewers that it was for the natural lighting.

“Y’all know the sun really brings out the purple in my eyes.” He’d smirk, and that was that.

They didn’t need to know the real reason he kept them open. His violet eyes flitted towards the window again as he mindlessly navigated the game. That’s when he saw you walking into the complex.

“Uhh, alright guys, I think that’s about it for today. I’ll be back on tonight for our midnight stream,” his eyes flicked over to the window again. You were checking the mailbox. Perfect. “Until next time, later guys.”

Shinsou quickly shut off his computer and threw on a pair of shoes before rushing down the stairs.

“Hey there bookworm.” Shinsou grinned as he approached you.

As soon as you turned and flashed him your little brace face smile, he felt an arrow pierce his heart. God you were adorable. With your colorful braces and glasses and pretty chocolate dimples.

“Hey yourself, e-boy.” You replied.

“Get anything interesting?” Shinsou nodded at your stack of mail as he opened his own mailbox.

“A new book.”

“Of course,” he shot you a smirk.

“Of course,” you giggled.

“Well, hey, that’s what makes you my little book worm.” He teased.

You glanced away your shy little dimpled smile making his heart flutter.

“Well, I better get upstairs,” you said, “I have studying to do.”

“Alright then,” Shinsou’s heart sank a bit at the thought of losing time with you. “Mind if I walk up with you?”

“Sure!”

Shinsou let you lead the way.

You two were neighbors and had come to be good friends; often walking up to your apartments together. So you thought nothing of it when he took up space behind you. Not even feeling the predatory gaze on your ass.

Shinsou’s friendly face fell into an almost hungry gaze as you strutted in front of him. There was something about your cute face juxtaposed with your stacked curves that drove him crazy. Your round ass bounced with every step as you led the way up the stairs. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his joggers and stroked the bulge growing in his pants as your ass wiggled.

Stop being such a creep man.

He chastised himself as you bounced up the stairs, but fuck he couldn’t help it.

All he could imagine was how loud he could make your soft little voice scream for him while he pounded into your thick ass from the back or watched your bouncy tits jiggle in his face.

“Hey, y/n,” Shinsou piped up before he could stop himself.

“Yeah?” You cocked your head.

Cutie.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over and order take out. We can just watch a movie or somethin’..or not! I don’t want you to think I’m tryna Netflix and chill or something!” Even though he totally was.

You felt your face burn. In all the time you and Shinsou had been neighbors, you had always had a crush on him, but never knew how to express it. You honestly never expected anything more than friendly mailbox banter; so getting invited to his house was a pleasant surprise to say the least.

“O-oh, um—Sure!”

“Really? Ahh, I have to stream tonight at midnight, but how bout eight?”

Your cheeks burned as you nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Alright, I now have an hour to make this place look presentable.” Shinsou gazed around his messy bachelor pad.

He managed to make his place decent and changed from his joggers into jeans and a t-shirt. He even combed his messy purple locks a bit. He wanted to look good for you guys’ first hang out session. After all, he couldn’t believe you had actually agreed to hang out with him. Shinsou had been crushing on you for months, but he didn’t think he was actually good enough for you. You were smart and studious and hard working and he was pretty sure you only viewed him as a lazy gamer guy.

That was why he had to impress you. This was his first shot to make a real impression and maybe score a real date with you.

He wondered how you would wear your hair and makeup. If he’d finally get to see those curves of yours hugged in a dress. He groaned aloud, thinking about running his fingers over your body.

“Fuck...” he muttered, feeling his dick flex at the thought of your thick chocolate body writhing under his.

Shinsou stroked himself through his jeans growing harder as his thoughts about you ran wild.

I can’t act like this when she’s around. I’ll scare her off for sure.

Ok. He had twenty minutes. He could just rub one out, right? That way when you got there he wouldn’t be thinking about throwing you on the kitchen table and deep dicking you until you were a groaning mess.

You knocked at Shinsou’s front door. You stepped back and bounced on your toes a bit.

When he opened the door, you felt your heart quicken. He looked so handsome. You weren’t used to seeing him in jeans and you could see how well sculpted his chest was through his shirt.

“Hey, bookworm.” He smiled.

“Hi, you.” You replied.

“Come on in.”

As soon as Shinsou ushered you inside you were intrigued by all the cool super hero posters and pictures of friends on the family.

“DC guy, huh?” You smirked at him as you observed his DC posters.

“For the most part,” Shinsou replied, coming up to your side. “I like the world building more in DC; feels a bit more real to me than Marvel. I don’t know why, but I have to admit I like Marvel’s villains more.”

“Hmm. I’m the opposite.”

Shinsou’s brow quirked as he grinned down at you.

“Oh yeah?”

You nod, shrugging. “I just think marvel has cooler, more powerful heroes and I like the world building in marvel. But I think DC has cooler villains and I like the grimmer grittier vibe.”

“Hmmm, let me find out my bookworm is a comic buff.”

Your heart fluttered again at the possessive nickname, but you mask it with a grin. “Try me.”

By the time the pizza arrives you and Shinsou are deep in your conversation about movies, comics, books, and your favorite shows.

Shinsou proudly shows you his custom PC and set up and swells with pride at how you gush over his build.

He loves hearing about your studies and theories and you guys bounce ideas off of each other for hours.

Before you both know it, it’s eleven o’clock.

“I’m so sorry, Shin. I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

“Trust me, y/n, if it wasn’t for that alarm I wouldn’t have even noticed the time. This has been really fun.”

The grin that lit up your face made your dark eyes sparkle and Shinsou desperately wanted to kiss you.

“Yeah. It was fun. I’m really glad we did this.”

“Yeah, totally. We should...do it again sometime. Maybe we can go out for dinner next weekend?” He offered, carefully.

You glanced away, sweetly, composing yourself before meeting his eyes again with a shy nod.

“I’d like that a lot.”

“Cool,” Shinsou grinned, scratching the back of his neck as a blush burned on his cheeks. Guess I’ll hop over next door and pick you up huh?” He chuckled.

“Sure.” You giggled back. “Well...night, Shin, have fun on your stream.”

“Night, y/n.” He smiled back.

As soon as you were out the door, Shinsou wanted to whoop and holler. Holy shit! He couldn’t believe he’d finally did it! Not only did he ask you to hang out, he scored an actual date with you!

Not only that, he finally got to know you beyond just a few words, and you were totally cool!

Knowing how cool and interesting you are coupled with your sweet, shy nature just made you more attractive to him.

He couldn’t help being even more turned on. You were like the perfect girl. Shy and sweet and nerdy and cool and Thicc as fuck.

He couldn’t wait to get to know you better in more ways than one...

He felt himself stirring once again and sighed, palming himself through his jeans.

“Dammit,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut in frustration. “I’ve really gotta stop working myself up over you, bookworm.”

Alright. He had an hour. He could take care of his ‘little problem’ before he started his stream. He would be thinking of you riding his face the whole time.

[trieditathome]

How to be emo: a guide by an ex emo kid who has absolutely no business making this guide ✨

(actual guide under the cut, there’s a lot of words there)

A short history of emo:

So what actually is an emo kid? The term came into use in the eighties to describe a subset of post-hardcore, called "emotive hardcore", that developed out of the punk subculture in Washington DC with bands like Rites of Spring and Embrace. The music was very emotion-focused and very honest, with singers often spilling their guts to the listeners. Although the exact origin of the word is uncertain, evidence shows that it was coined around 1985. Believe it or not, emo kids in the eighties dressed more like stereotypical nerds than like the emo kids we see in more recent years; sweater vests, bowl cuts, big thick glasses, the whole shebang. It wasn't until the 90's that we began to see emo fashion resemble what it does now, with fringes, skinny jeans, and black hoodies. It was also around this time that the first screamo bands, including but not limited to Page 99, Orchid, and Antioch Arrow, formed. A common misconception is that any music with screaming vocals is screamo, but this is false. Screamo is simply an aggressive subgenre of emotive hardcore. Screamo was often referred to as "skramz" when it first developed. Around the early 2000's, pop punk and emo pop started becoming popular with the emo subculture. Bands like Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, My Chemical Romance, and Paramore had recently formed and the emos loved it. There has been some debate over whether or not these bands actually count as emo. Personally, I believe that their earlier albums (Ex: Take This to Your Grave- Fall Out Boy, A Fever You Can't Sweat Out- Panic! at the Disco, I Gave You My Bullets- My Chemical Romance) have more of an emo sound than more reccent ones, but pop punk might be a better term for them.

The Music

Emo is very much a music based subculture. If you don't listen to the music, you aren't emo. Full stop. Of course, this doesn't mean you have to limit yourself to only emotive hardcore or screamo; if your playlist has both Rites of Spring and Taylor Swift, that doesn't make you a fake emo or a poser. It means you have a broad music taste, which is a good thing (heck, even when I was a little 13-year-old emo kid, I still listened to almost every genre under the sun.) Don't know which bands you should listen to? I got you:

80's - Rites of Spring - Embrace - Beefeater - Dag Nasty - Gray Mattter - Soulside - Moss Icon

90's - Cap'n Jazz - Sunny Day Real Estate - Texas is the Reason - The Promise Ring - Christie Front Drive - American Football - Death Cab for Cutie

2000's - Dashboard Confessional - Jimmy Eat World - Circle Takes the Square - Orchid - Thursday - You Me at Six - Hawthorne Heights

Some genres that are not emo include: - Heavy metal - Deathcore - Indie pop - Any sort of rap (Lil Peep and XXXTENTACION are not emo and too many people keep claiming that they are akdjfhalkfkajhl) - Classic Rock - Anything that isn't emotive harcore or a variant

It might also be a good idea to make accounts for sites like Last.fm or Bandcamp if you're looking to find new music. Or ask around, other emos are generally happy to reccommend music to other people.

Fashion

Ah, good old emo fashion. It still has a special place in my heart. Anyway, emo fashion is generally quite androgynous; some staples are black skinny jeans, black hoodies, band t-shirts, and skater shoes. If you want a feminine twist, pleated skirts and fishnets can spice up an outfit. Anything with spikes or chains works very well too. Chokers are popular, as are fingerless gloves, studded belts, and beanies. If you wear glasses, try wearing square-framed glasses with large rims (think nerd glasses). Stipes, checkerboard, and plaid patterns are well liked, as are edgy symbols or images, such as skulls or knives. Cartoon characters such as Hello Kitty or Invader Zim are popular too, however, this is moreso associated with scene than emo fashion. In terms of alternative styles, emo fashion is generally more toned down than say, goth or scene. Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to just wear black. Some other colors you can wear to spice up your outfits are black, red, green, blue, pink, or purple. Since punk, the predecessor to emo, was very DIY, so is emo; don't be afraid to make your own clothing or accessories, or spice up ones you already have. You could try going to the thrift store, buying some cheap clothing, and altering it to fit your own personal tastes. The only real makeup associated with emos is black eyeliner and it doesn't need to be good. Just go ham. Focus on your eyes and leave your lips nude. Otherwise you'll end up looking more goth than emo.

Hair

Hair is quite possiblty the most striking thing about an emo kid. The most common style is cut into choppy layers with a sideswept fringe. Hair is often straightened and dyed black, although this is unnecessary. Some other popular colors are red, blue, purple, and blone (woah crazy, blonde emos are real). To get the large, poofy shape, hair is backcombed and hairsprayed. It's not quite as big and colorful as scene hair, although there's no reason as to why you shouldn't do that as an emo.

Isn't this just (insert alt subculture here)?

As confusing as this can be, emo is not the same as any other alternative subculture. Each one has their own unique history and style. The differences between some popular subcultures are:

Punk

Punk is quite possibly one of the oldest, if not the oldest, alternative subculture. It developed in the UK in the 1970's. Punk bands include artists such as The Sex Pistols, Blag FLags, and The Exploited. The style was often very eccentric, and included things like leather jackets, combat boots, colorful, spiky hair, and a ridiculous amount of accessories. Above all, however, punk was a set of political beliefs, and if one did not follow those beliefs, they were often not considered punk.

Goth

Developed in the UK around the same time as emo, goth is a lot darker and spookier than emo. Some goth bands include Bauhaus, Siouxie and the Banshees, and The Sisters of Mercy. Style is often very out there, and included virtually any sort of black clothing that one could get ahold of, very large, black hair, and extreme makeup.

Scene

Although extremely similar to emo in appearance, scene has very different roots. It developed in the US from the emo subculture. Unlike their emo predecessors, however, scene was much more focused on aesthetics and had no set genre of music that they were associated with. However, some artists that were popular with scene kids were Dot Dot Line, Blood on the Dance Floor, and 3OH!3. Fashion included lots and lots of bright colors, childish accessories, and large, emo-inspired hair.

Grunge The grunge subculture developed in Seattle in the 1980's. Some prevalent grunge artists are Neil Young, Pearl Jam, and Nirvana. Many participants in the grunge subculture were working class and fashion was often thrifted and DIYed. It consisted of things like flannels, ripped jeans, and converse.

E-kid While not exactly alternative, I felt like putting it here because it's so often conflated with every other subculture in existence. E-kid fashion developed on TikTok and has no real musical influence. Artists like Lil Peep, Freddie Dredd, and Corpse Husband are popular with e-kids. There seems to be some anime influence in this fashion, as well as inspiration from preexisting subcultures. Black clothing is often worn, as well as chains, spikes, and fishnets. Hair is often cut into bangs and sometimes dyed. Hearts are often drawn on the cheeks.

Common misconceptions

As you probably already know, there's a lot of misconceptions surrounding the emo subculture, so I'd like to clear some things up:

Being emo is in no way, shape, or form about being depressed. If you feel depressed, please recieve help, this is not good.

You're allowed to wear colors other than black. You don't have to, but it is an option

Not all rock music or emotional music is emo and the term isn't subjective. You can't just decide that an artist is emo because they sing about emotional topics, just like you can't just decide that an artist is goth because they wear black. It's ridiculous.

You're not a poser if you have no idea what you're doing. The only thing you can do is your best and as long as you're actively researching the subculture and listening to the music, you can consider yourself emo.

Skinny jeans and a fringe does not a true emo make. Especially if you still live with your parents and your freedom of expression is limited. Don't concern yourself too much with looking the part. I speak from experience when I say it gets stressful.

You don't need to do all of these things to be considered emo. The only necessity is listening to the music. Don't put too much pressure on yourself to conform to a stereotype and just have fun with it. Look for inspiration on google or pinterest. You could even try to stalk old MySpace profiles if you really want to. Just go ham. If I've messed anything up, feel free to correct me (politely), you won't hurt my feelings :) Have fun

[exovapor]

The Adventure - TMNT Bitches:  Chapter 9

.

CHAPTER 9:  Enter the She Turtles

·         Kari watches the elevators with anticipation and feels a wave of giddiness at as the doors slide open and two of her TMNT peeps step out into the crowded hotel lobby.  Kassie’s shorter frame leading the way in her TMNT t-shirt, jeans, and ‘Raph’ shoes, cute leather lace-up sandals, that she bought specifically for this occasion.  Holly following, her blonde head bobbing through the crowd, in her own TMNT swag, jean shorts, and green Converse tennis shoes.

·         Kari is practically bouncing when they finally walk up to join her near the receptionist station, she looks like a cat who has eaten the canary, her grin is so wide.

·         “You look mighty happy”, Holly chirps out in her thick country-southern accent.  “Yes, you look as happy if someone showed you turtle cock”, comes Kassie’s southern accented comment, as she and Holly both stare at Kari’s wide grin.

·         “Oh, it wasn’t THAT good, but it was GOOD”, Kari replies back, “you guys will never believe what I just saw!”.  

·         “Well, don’t keep us in suspense, sweetie, tell us”, Holly crosses her arms, tilts her head, and stares expectantly at Kari.

·         “I just saw a guy dressed as the Shredder!”, Kari spills out in a rush, grabbing Kassie’s upper arms and emphasizing her excitement.  “And just think, if that guy is walking around like that, there MIGHT BE TURTLES HERE!”, Kari adds, following her own train of thought and HOPING like mad that some guys decided to cosplay together, some as the Shredder and some as the Ninja Turtles.

·         Kassie’s mouth drops open and an unintentional squeal escapes her.  Her mind buzzing with how amazing cool that would be!  Her first Dragon Con, with her and her TMNT friends doing their own group cosplay of the turtles, and now there is a possibility of men cosplaying as turtles too?!!!  That would be completely EPIC if it were true!

·         “You’re shittin’ us”, Holly voices out, fully hoping that Kari isn’t playing but it seems all too good to be true.

·         “I’m dead serious, here look, I took a picture of him”, Kari holds her phone out for them to see, with the back shot of the Shredder on the escalator.

·         “Oh my gawwwdddd”, Holly drawls out while Kassie rips the phone out of Kari’s phone to get a closer look.  “That costume is AMAZING!  Look at the detail!, “ Kassie breathes out, her eyes glued to the phone’s screen.

·         “I say, as soon as Val gets here, that we go find this guy again…even though he was sort of an asshole”, Kari expresses to her friends while her face turns sour at the memory of the guy’s rude attitude.

·         “Sounds like a plan to me, Val should be here in about an hour or two, she texted that she was about to leave her house and start driving this way”, Kassie says handing Kari her phone back, “in the mean-time, let’s find some food because as soon as Val gets here we’ve got to get dressed in our costumes and start partying…Mikey style”.

·         “MMMMmmmm, Mikey Style…Mikey’s style is up against a wall or holding you upside down and just eating you alive….mmmmm”, Kari’s eyes go all day-dreamy and unfocused.

·         “Not exactly what I meant, Kari”, Kassie giggles back at her tall friend, “But, I appreciate the visual”.

                                                    **********

·         A couple of hours later, the trio stood by the receptionist station watching the automated doors of the Mariott slide up and close for the steady stream of party-goers, cosplayers, and hotel guests.

·         Among the flow of people came a short, dark haired female with katanas strapped to her back.  “There she is!”, Kassie exclaimed excitedly and rushed forward to greet her friend and fan, “WIFEY!  Over here!”.

·         Valerie wheeled her suitcase into the hotel’s lobby and immediately hears a familiar voice, one that’s she has heard through voice recordings via the WhatsApp many times, one of her favorite writers of all time, and Tumblr wifey, Kassie!  She sees the joyful five foot three woman bouncing her way, excitedly clapping her hands and throwing her arms open wide for those hug-things that people like to do.  Valerie grins and bears it, Kassie is a touch person, Valerie gives her the hug she’s seeking.

·         Holly and Kari are close behind, joining in the hug pile and causing Valerie to shake them off exclaiming, “okay, okay, enough with the hug fest you hippies.  I just had years scared off my life and here you are trying to suffocate me to death”.

·         “Oh, no, what happened?”, Holly’s concern clear in her blue eyes.  “Yeah, who do we need to kill?”, Kari asked while grinding her knuckles into her palm.

·         “Grrrr…no one important.  Just some stupid guys LARPing in the middle of the road.  I swear, it’s like some people aren’t born with common-damn-sense”, Val growls out, the annoyance that she felt in the parking deck quickly coming back to haunt her.

·         “Forget about them!  You are here with us now and we are going to have a great time!”, Kassie says pulling Valerie into her side by the shoulder, “Come on, let’s get your stuff to the room and get our outfits on, I want to get this party started!  You’re bunking with me, Wifey.  I put the two wild children in a room together with a whole solid wall separating us….you know…so you don’t kill them at some point this weekend.”

·         “HEY!  Our room is going to be the fun party room, isn’t that right, Holly?”, Kari asks while pushing Holly in the shoulder with her fist.  “Damn skippy it is, we’ll be con legends for years to come”.

·         “Oh god”, Valerie groans, “I can see it now…we’ll be kick out of the Mariott on the first night here”.

·         “Stick in the mud”, Holly snips back teasingly.

·         “Now I truly know what poor Leo feels like all the time having to deal with Raph and Mikey”, Valerie shakes her head and allows Kassie to lead her to the elevators so that they can ascend to the room floors and go to get dressed.

·         An hour later, four scantily clad women dressed as ninja turtles exited two rooms on the fifth floor of the Mariott of Atlanta.  Out of the “Party Room”, walked two tall women, one sporting the orange of a Party Dude and one repping purple for a genius, complete with gadgets strapped around her body. Their tall figures adorable, and hot, in their green pleather corsets, green tulle skirts, complete with a green shell backpack decorated with their weaponry.  The other two women exiting, what Holly and Kari had dubbed the “Boring Room”, dressed as Leonardo and Raphael…if Leo and Raph wore corsets and tulle skirts.

·         “Oh my god, I nearly forgot!”, Kari’s eyes bugged out as she grabbed for her phone and starts swiping through it, “Val, you gotta see this.  We’ve gotta find this guy and take a picture with him, he’s dressed as the Shredder!”.

·         Kari hands Valerie the phone and Valerie stares at the image stunned.  She’s been going to DC for over twenty years.  She has seen A LOT of nice costumes, insanely good replicas that looked like they walked right off a movie set, but the suit she is looking at the in the photo is unbelievably good.  It looks so real.  That guy was either a REALLY good costume designer or just a REALLY HUGE nerd. Either way, getting a picture with him would be epic.

·         “Ok, then let’s find him”, the blue clad pseudo-leader says, “and the easiest way to do that is to split up”.

·         “Don’t forget that panel that we want to go to for Rob Paulsen, it starts in about two hours”, Kassie reminds the group, “I’ve got to hear that Donnie voice inperson”. Valerie nods her head in agreement, “If we don’t find this guy within the next hour or so, we’ll meet up around the fountain on the lower level and head over to the panel.  Kassie and I will search the lower level and you two…”, Valerie gives a weary eye to the two wild children,  “one…BEHAVE.  Two…take the main level and search for Shredder.  If either party finds him, phone the other, got it?”.

·         “Behave? What do you think is gonna happen? That you’ll find Holly and me hanging from the  railings in the atrium?”, Kari asks Valerie dubiously.

·         “Please don’t”, is all Valerie replies as she walks off, Kassie following her and giggling.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @kokokatsworld @the-second-circle-of-shell @nittleboo

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 24

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

June 1999

The air smells wet and woody, birdsongs trilling in the early morning sun that trickles through a sky light. She stretches, then disentangles her legs from the sheets and stands, walking to the window.

There is a giant soaking tub in the corner of the room, flanked by two windowed walls that afford a sweeping view of the Cascade mountains, green carpeted hillsides meeting with a baby-blue sky.

She can still recall her mother’s face when they told her the wedding would be in Washington State. “But...we don’t even know anyone in Washington, Dana,” she’d said with a bemused expression, lamenting the length of their flights with a nine-month-old in tow.

Her mother’s reaction paled in comparison to Mulder’s excitement when she’d suggested the idea; she would spend their honeymoon relaxing with a book in the tub, and he could spend it traipsing through the woods looking for Sasquatch, or ‘squatchin’ as he called it. They would reunite in the afternoon, hiking, making love, catching up on all the conversations they’d missed while in the trenches of parenting a new baby. Mom would stay at the same resort with Molly so they could see her every day, while having precious nights to themselves; something they haven’t done since she was born.

She turns the tap on the bath, a blast of water thundering into the empty basin. When it’s full nearly to the brim, she disrobes and eases in, breathing deeply to inhale the juniper-scented steam, courtesy of the resort-provided bath salts. Closing her eyes, she thinks back over it all; their chance meeting, how she was drawn to him by a force that seemed to be bigger than them both, the anguish of wanting him but feeling like she owed it to Ethan to stay together. Her eyes snap open, a memory long-buried in the recesses of her mind springing forth like a trebuchet.

The day she met Mulder, she’d been planning to take the day off to go to a book signing for an author she admires. The signing was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict and she almost took the day off anyway, but had a last minute pang of guilt knowing that the workload that week was already heavy and Trudy would struggle to manage it all on her own. So she’d gone in, she’d performed that autopsy that should have been on Trudy’s docket, and she’d filled out the paperwork, and she’d met Mulder. How delicate the balance of the universe that such an insignificant choice completely changed the course of her life.

She suddenly misses him acutely, and a bundle of nerves and excitement flutters in her belly thinking about when she’ll see him next. She’d scoffed at the idea of them spending last night apart; they live together and have a child so the performative chastity seemed to be a bit much. He said it was like a fast, that a little time apart would make it even more special when they saw each other at the ceremony, and she ultimately acquiesced.

“Meet me on a mountain top at 4 o’clock tomorrow?” he’d asked as he backed out of her room, pulling away from the desperate kisses she was planting all over his face.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied with a smile, and they said goodnight.

She smiles again, sinking down until the water slips into her ears. She can’t wait to marry him.

———

He sits up and arches his back, his spine protesting the cramped accommodations. Looking over at Byers and Missy curled up in the king size bed, he regrets his decision to crash on the couch here instead of staying with Scully in their room. Not only because he slept like shit with his legs hanging over the end, but also because work takes him away from his girls so often, he’s an idiot to add another day to it if he doesn’t have to.

He stands, hands on his hips as he twists to stretch his angry muscles, and walks to the window, taking in the dense green hills and valleys that surround them. He smiles, because she could have asked to go to Mexico, or France, or anywhere on the entire Earth and he would have given her what she wanted, but she chose the place she knew he wanted to go. Selfless and giving to a fault, his Scully. Soon to be his wife.

He quietly slips on his running shoes and sneaks out of the room, hitting the hard-packed dirt trail the concierge had told him about. The quiet forest is the perfect place to be alone with his thoughts, nothing but the thud of his feet striking the ground and the twitter of waking birds to distract him. He thinks about his life, about being a child who was lonely and alone, with parents who provided food and shelter but not much more. He thinks about Molly, and how she will never know that kind of pain, that there will never be a day of her life that she is not told how much she is loved. He wonders if his dad ever felt about his mom the way he feels about Scully, and he knows it’s not possible that he did, because if so they would still be together.

He comes to a break in the trees and pauses, breath heaving and lungs burning as he watches a hawk gliding through the valley below, hunting for breakfast. How easily he could have missed this moment, he thinks. Even one small change to the trajectory of his life, and he never would have walked into the autopsy bay that day. If the courier hadn’t been sick, if he hadn’t stopped by Kirkbride’s office when he did. Even further back, if he hadn’t stayed with the bureau with the X files were closed, if Valerie hadn’t been there to encourage him, or if he hadn’t met Valerie one random Tuesday at a record store. The path was long and winding, and it led to her. It led to him on this mountaintop in a sweat-soaked T-shirt, smiling at the thought of his baby daughter, his almost-wife.

He picks up running again, the smile staying on his lips. He’s always felt like he was running away; from his painful past, his regrets, his bad decisions. Now he realizes he’s running towards; his future, a thousand opportunities yet unseen, a kind of happiness he never thought he’d know. He can’t wait for the rest of his life to start.

———

He stands in a clearing near the edge of a cliff, the lush green landscape toeing up against the horizon looking like crooked teeth. Frohike stands beside him in khaki pants and a white linen shirt, a leather folio clasped in his hands. Mulder is also dressed fairly casually, in slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, the sleeves cuffed and the top button undone.

Scully wanted this to be as non-traditional as possible, to make it their own. There is no wedding party, no tuxedo, no flower girl or garter toss. No one will walk her down the aisle, as no one but herself has the ownership to give her away. The guests are small in number; immediate family only, plus the gunmen. Monica and Dahlia are house-sitting back in DC, minding Priscilla as well as the dog, King, that joined the family after the purchase of their house in March. Bucking the idea of arranging guests by whose “side” they are on, they all sit in a small cluster, and Scully will enter from the side.

He looks out and waves at Molly, who is standing on Missy’s lap, holding her hands and bouncing up and down forcefully. She squeals and shouts “dah, dah, dah!” which he chooses to interpret as “Daddy” even though Scully told him it’s just a nonsense syllable and doesn’t mean anything.

Langly gets the signal from Frohike and hits play on a small boom box, piping an instrumental version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” up into the branches of the towering evergreen trees. He expected to feel nervous at this moment, but all he feels is excitement as Maggie scurries out from behind a line of trees and takes her place beside Bill, giving him a smile and a wink.

Scully appears from around the same group of trees and he grins broadly. He’s seen the dress, they picked it out together, but the full effect is stunning. Her hair, now grown well past her shoulder blades, is curled softly and pinned half up, brilliant red tendrils shimmering in the midday sun against her porcelain shoulders. Her dress is full length pearl satin, a slim sheath cut with off the shoulder straps. She is holding a small bouquet of pink peonies in her hands, and holding his eye with a playful smirk.

She arrives beside him and before the music stops, before Frohike has a chance to begin, he steps forward and takes her by the waist, kissing her fully. The guests laugh and he pulls away to see a confused smile on her face.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says simply.

They move through the ceremony, exchanging rings and vowing to love each other forever; promises they’ve already made to each other a hundred times. As they near the part that Scully understands to be the end, Frohike goes off script.

“Mulder has prepared some words of his own, he’ll read them now,” he says, nodding toward his friend.

Scully’s eyebrows lift in a surprised and confused expression.

“Mulder, we didn’t talk about writing our own vows,” she whispers, afraid she’s failed to complete the assignment.

“It’s okay, these are for both of us,” he whispers, and then, taking her hands in his, he reads a passage from her favorite book from memory.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love; I have found you. You are my sympathy, my better self, my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely. A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my center and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

The tear that slips down her cheek is borne only of happiness. She looks into his green eyes and sees contentment and love, and desire. It’s not a spark, what they have, nor an ember. It’s a wildfire, a white-hot torch, an eternal flame that binds them together inseparably. They were forged in fire the moment he laid eyes on her in that autopsy bay, maybe even before.

Frohike concludes, “by the power invested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride…again.”

He wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up as he kisses her deeply, a gust of warm summer wind picking up pine needles and tossing them in a mini-tornado that surrounds them both. Molly squeals “dah dah dah!” and claps for her parents.

———

She stands at the mirror, brushing her teeth. Her hair is combed out, her makeup removed, the white dress hanging in the corner of the room with the hem now tinged brown from the dirt that served as their dance floor.

Mulder appears behind her, an arm snaking around the waist of her satin nightgown. She smiles at the sight of his newly ring-adorned hand pressed flat against her belly, then leans forward to rinse.

“Ready for bed?” he asks softly, and she nods.

They slip beneath the cool sheets, curling around one another face-to-face; her leg threaded between his, his arms around her back, foreheads touching. She draws in a big breath and lets it out slowly, contentment settling deep in her bones.

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen in exactly the way they did to lead us here?” he asks, and she pulls back a little to look at his face.

“Yes, I was actually just thinking about that earlier,” she says with a curious lilt.

“Makes you wonder, huh, what lives we’d be leading if even just one detail were changed,” he says, tracing his finger along her shoulder blade.

“I don’t think it would have mattered, actually,” she says, and he gives her a quizzical look, silently asking her to elaborate. “I know this will sound a little far-fetched coming from me,” she begins with a self-conscious smile, “but I think it was always going to end up this way. Even if we hadn’t met when we did, we would have crossed paths some other way. Looking back over everything, it just seems like this was meant to be the outcome, even if the path to get here could have gone in a lot of different directions.”

He ponders this, remembering a conversation they had over coffee when, against all odds, she reappeared in his life.

“Like there was only one choice, and signs along the way to pay attention to,” he says contemplatively, lifting his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” she replies, pressing her lips to his briefly, “it was always going to be you.”

END