#found 2 perfect books for my kiddos at the bookstore

[binabadaboom]

who remembers these books?? i loved them as a kid and was dead set convinced they were real haha

[missweber]

@lardo-week

For Day 6 of Lardo Week - Friends and Lovers

(Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5)

(FYI, I’ll start posting these to AO3 tomorrow after I get the last chapter up tomorrow and give everything a good scrubbing for lurking typos and the like)

the practical thing to do

It wasn't that Lardo wasn't earning money. She had two decent part-time jobs and had even picked up a couple of freelance assignments. 

One of the freelance assignments (painting the risers of a staircase in an old house-turned-bookstore to resemble shelves of children's books) had been fun and had paid fairly well, but it hadn't led to any nibbles from potential patrons.

She had time, she reminded herself. There was nothing wrong with working part-time for a gallery and for a local youth hockey organization. There was nothing wrong with creating some stability for herself.

But something was wrong.

"Can I vent?" She had timed her question for when Ransom and Holster were home and Shitty was at an evening seminar. As for She-Who-Would-Not-Be-Named, Lardo didn't really give a shit if she was home or not.

"Lay it on us, so we may ease your troubled mind," Holster intoned, affecting an air of wisdom and concern. Ransom didn't say anything, but he closed his laptop and put it aside so he could pay full attention.

Wanting to vent didn't mean knowing what to say. Instead, she just plopped herself down on the couch right between them. There wasn't quite enough room, but they made it work.

"I feel like a fucking parasite," she said at last.

The chorus of no no no! and we're fine with how things are divvied up, honest! weren't as comforting as they were meant to be.

"I'm venting, okay? That means you gotta let me vent! Don't..." She took a deep breath. "Don't just tell me not to worry, okay?"

Part of her could hear Shitty explaining how being told not to worry was sometimes the same as 'go away and don't bother me with your pesky emotions,' and that, she found comforting.

"My bad," Holster said. 

Ransom pulled her into a side hug. "Sorry about that, Lards. Go ahead. Why are you comparing yourself to a tapeworm?"

"Gross, dude," she and Holster said in perfect unison, and that led to a giggle fit that totally killed the mood.

"Now I'm not feeling ranty. I'm just going to whine instead."

"Would you like some wine with that wine?" Holster asked in a horrible faux-British accent.

"Oh, hell yes!"

The occasion apparently called for a bottle of good wine that had been 'liberated' from Shitty's grandparents, and the novelty wine glasses. Lardo noted that her glass said 'Wine is cheaper than therapy' and tried not to read too much into it. After all, Ransom's said 'I just can't adult today' and Holster's glass proclaimed that he was 'Sotally Tober.'

"So anyway, I feel like a total mooch. I know you guys say it doesn't bother you that I'm paying a smaller share of rent than you are, but it still bugs me. I feel... I feel kept."

"Does it help if we tell you we don't think of it that way at all?" Ransom asked gently.

She shrugged. "In theory."

Shitty, Ransom, and Holster had each told her over and over and over they didn't mind paying bigger shares of the rent. They all either had or made enough money to cover it, and how the hell was Lardo supposed to do art on the side if she didn't have the time or energy to do art?

"We've got your back, bro," Holster said as if that explained everything.

She knew it should. She wished it did.

"Did anything in particular stir this up?" Ransom asked. His eyes narrowed. "Shitty's dad didn't say anything again, did he? Or Claire?"

Holster shushed him, and cast furtive looks at the hallway. "Don't say her name! She'll know we're talking about her!"

Ransom leaned in close and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I know I always said I was team attic, but if the person who's hiding in the attic is you-know-who? Then fuck it. I'm changing my answer."

"Dude," Holster said solemnly. "What if she's actually a thousand roaches in a trench coat?"

"Huh. That actually makes a lot of sense."

Watching their back and forth helped more than their concern. "No one said anything, guys." Well, George had said something in an email, but not in the way the guys meant it. "Just some job stuff came up today that... well, it stirred some shit up."

The point of having a job was to earn a living. Yes, you should do something you liked to do, but you needed to be practical about it. Lardo's parents had never been poor, but for as long as she could remember, they always had to be mindful. She had never gone hungry, but her mother and her bà ngoại had.

They had always encouraged and celebrated her artwork, but they had also been very clear that she was expected to get a real job.

There had also been sly hints about how finding a husband with a real job was a possible alternative, but she forced the thought from her mind because while a wine hangover was bad, a rage hangover was even worse.

The three of them killed off a bottle and a half of wine. It was weaksauce compared to their kegster days, but while Lardo had gone to several classes hungover and still in her pajamas, she didn't think that would fly at the Newbury Street gallery where she worked.

Where she worked for now, at least.

"I'm done guys," she said with a yawn that was only a little exaggerated. "Thanks for letting me dump on you. And don't say it's no problem or anything stupid like that."

She really hoped Shitty got home soon. Now that she had vented, she actually wanted to talk.

It was good to crawl into bed. It was only half-made, as usual, but Duckie and Mr. Steggy were in their proper places as they should be. She smiled, remembering how Shitty had literally squeed with delight when she first introduced him to her childhood plushie.

She hugged both stuffed animals to her and fell asleep.

She was woken up what felt like just a minute later when a naked Shitty tried to pry Mr. Steggy out of her grasp.

"You're hogging the cuddle-buddies," he whispered.

"You snooze, you lose."

"Excuse you, but I was not the one snoozing, Ms. Duan."

She laughed and let Shitty take the plush stegosaurus. He slid into bed and snuggled close. She leaned in and kissed him deep, curling one hand around the back of his head so she could play with his hair. God, she was so glad he was growing it out again.

He ran his fingers down the curve of her waist and up the rise of her hip, but it was an inquiry rather than a request. She kissed him again, then pulled back. "Just this," she said. "And can I talk to you about something?"

She felt him tense defensively but then relax. The first had been automatic, the second, deliberate. "Okay?"

"First of all, yes, there is some money shit tied up in all of this, so I need to know it's okay to talk about money. Otherwise, this is going to be frustrating as hell."

It said something that all he did was nod in agreement. They had figured out quickly that their difference in background made financial discussions a big-ass mine field. They'd had a rough start, but now they used safe words more when talking about money than they did when having sex. 

Lardo thought more couples should follow their example.

"I got a solid lead on a job today."

His face lit up. "What! That's–"

She covered his mouth with her hand. "Let me finish, okay? And if you lick my hand, I will pluck your mustache out hair by hair. Nod if you understand."

He nodded. She removed her hand.

"Here's the problem. If I take this job, I'll have to quit the gallery job and cut back my time with the Rockets. Maybe even quit."

"Okay," he said. She could tell he had a question, but was holding it. For now.

"Starting out, it would mean less money. Not a lot less, but..." But it had been enough to trigger a crisis that required copious amounts of wine to solve. "And the commute would suck."

"Okay." 

He wanted to say he would fix it, that he would make up the difference. She could see it. But he stayed quiet, and she loved him all the more for it.

"But that would only be at first. Part of what I'd be doing is training to take on someone else's job when he retires next year. And it would be decent money. I...”

She let go.

“I thought that wasn't important to me! I know I'm worth more than the money I make! I know my art is damned good art even if it takes me forever to get to where I can do it full time! So what's wrong with me that I'm ready to throw away an art gallery job—a fucking Newbury Street gallery job!—so I can make more money a whole year from now!"

Shitty actually raised his hand sheepishly, as if he was a student in her class. "Um, so what is this job, anyway?"

That was enough to get her to laugh, and laughing gave her an excuse to wipe away the tears that had started to well. "Details, details... Yeah. George Martin said she's got an opening for an assistant equipment manager-slash-logistics person."

"George Martin? As in Jack's George? Falcs George?" Shitty's eyes were wide. "Holy guacamole doesn't even begin to cover it. So, what are you thinking?"

"In a lot of ways, it makes sense to keep the gallery job. No, it's not my kind of art." Honestly, it was more the sort of thing she imagined hanging in Shitty's grandparent's house. "But it's good experience to see that side of things for when I start selling my own things. And then there's the networking. It would be the practical thing to–"

She stopped, listening to what she was about to say, and hearing the echo of her mother's voice.

"Lards?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you still have time to do your art? If you take this other job?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. I don't see why not."

Shitty reached out and took her hand. He rubbed his thumb up and down her wrist, stroking and soothing. "When you said you would have to quit your gallery job and maybe not work as much with the kiddos on the Rockets, I almost said something."

She nodded. She had caught that.

"What I almost said was that you sounded more upset about cutting back your work with the kids than you did about quitting the gallery completely."

"Holy shit," she whispered. It was as if someone had pulled aside the curtain hiding Oz the Great and Terrible. 

She didn't like the gallery. She liked the idea of the gallery. She liked that even after she had decided that the world wouldn't end if she didn't get a job in the arts right away, this opportunity dropped in her lap. She liked what she had been learning from her boss and the new appreciation she had for mid-century American art.

What she didn't like was dressing up like she worked in a law office. She didn't like the way some buyers treated paintings like investment properties. She didn't like being a salesperson/hostess.

And she really didn't like how many clients reminded her of Shitty's grandparents.

But she loved her hockey kids.

"You're right. But..."

"But?"

She gently plucked Mr. Steggy from Shitty's grasp and set him on the nightstand. Duckie followed a second later, and Lardo wriggled as close to Shitty as she could. "But you've given me a lot to think about." She tilted her head so she could kiss his chin. "G'night." 

There was no need to make a decision just then, even though she was pretty sure what it would be. There were just a few things she had to think through, first. 

She felt like something big had shifted, or was about to shift, and that the future was going to be something she had never imagined. But that was okay.

She had Shitty. And in a different way, she had Ransom and Holster, and Jack and Bitty. 

And, as Holster had said, they had her back.

[owlmylove]

big ask, how do you make friends?(not you as in you but as in the general all of us you does that make sense?)

aight strap in kiddo. heres how to win friends and influence smiles

first: find people that seem cool, or interesting to you. this is nowhere near as high stakes as it may seem because, though you may not know it yet, you don’t have to commit to being friends with someone just because you get to know them. we all make brunch and coffee date promises that will eventually go unfulfilled, not because we’re terrible people but rather we realize we’re better suited to hanging out with others. so, tldr: find cool people and don’t worry overmuch about it

now, find a way to talk to them. this depends on A. how often you see this person annnnd B. your own confidence level.  

if you see a cool person and don’t immediately know how to approach them, the easiest way in the world to make friends is to open with a compliment and go from there. this sounds ridiculous, but I’m currently at a large university and I literally make friends every day. most of the time, that’s prompted by complimenting them. I once told a girl outside starbucks I loved how she was working that croptop, and she almost yelled with joy, complimented my hair, and demanded to ask for my instagram. if someone is in a rush I naturally don’t interrupt them, but I have stopped by other people’s tables or seats in cafés before to inform them how much I like their outfit/hair/earrings/messenger bag. after they fawn over the compliment, proceed to small talk. 

small talk takes practice. 

and thats okay! most things in life do! you’ll get better the more you do it - I swear to god I’m the proof. 

bounce off whatever response they give to your initial compliment and, most importantly (and easiest for you!) keep the focus on them. try to end most - but not every one! - of your thoughts with an open question for them to keep the conversation rolling. complimented their jewelry? (usually a v. good pick, people take pride in their jewelry. sidenote, try to compliment things people choose: clothes, books, shoes, accessories. although “you have incredible eyes!” is a great compliment, it’s awkward as an opener because it A. requires you to have looked them in the eyes for a long period of time before talking to them and B. sounds like a pick up line. [I wait until I’ve been talking to them for a while before I acknowledge how wow, I’m sorry, the light just hit your eyes and they’re gorgeous! I’m sure you get that all the time, but wow.]) 

ask them where they got their bracelet. if someone got it for them, ask about the gift-giver. if they don’t remember where they got it, laugh and say that all the best pieces in a wardrobe are the ones you forget where they came from. give an example of your own, if applicable. try bouncing from complimenting their hair to asking where they get it done and maybe make a joke about how you wish you could bring a professional negotiator to your appointments, because otherwise you’ll ask for a trim, the stylist will give you a buzzcut, and you’ll say “oh thats perfect, thanks :))” almost everyone has had that experience, I promise.

I should also acknowledge: I’m writing this as a cis female. I can (and do) compliment a lot of people, mostly women. But I’ve been told that if you’re male-presenting, then giving such compliments to people of any gender might be seen as flirting? As such, for those who don’t present as girls: give compliments in a way that feels right for you. One of the best drive-by compliments I recently got from a guy was while I was late for a performance, striding across campus, and a guy passing by just said “Hey, I love your style,” without breaking stride or trying to force a conversation. No matter what you identify as, if you’re worried someone will think you’re hitting on them be sure to keep that air of, “I don’t mind if this conversation comes to a natural conclusion.” Even if you desperately want to be their friend, desperation is easily detected and can be as uncomfortable in platonic contexts as it is in romantic ones. 

so don’t lean in too close, don’t force extended eye contact or stare, and don’t compliment any body parts unless you think you can do so without being suggestive. casually mirror their body language when possible (if they’re leaning their cheek on one arm, wait a beat or two before propping your chin up similarly) to make them feel like you’re attentive and similarly minded.

if you can immediately tell you have a common factor with a person, go for it. if someone’s reading a book you’ve read, or a book you want to read, or a book you wrote, sit sorta near them, glance their way and, acting as if you’ve just now recognized the book, ask them how they’re enjoying it. if they’re a deep reader and go “huh?” as your voice drags them up from the literary depths, give a self-effacing smile and say “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. That’s just one of my favorite books. How are you liking it so far?” this leads to any other question about a book you can imagine. 

ditto any t-shirt about a form of media you’re familiar with, or patch or sticker or pin. all of those are just nerd flags flying high in pursuit of like-minded people to talk to. trust me.

once you’ve made enough small talk and, if it’s working well, try finding a “to be continued” thread. could be “oh, you come to this coffee shop every morning to? well maybe I’ll see you next Wednesday then! it was nice meeting you, have a good day c:” orrrr maybe it’s “awww your dogs adorable!! here’s pictures of my pet/any other vaguely related to the conversation thing on instagram. [insert photo sharing, wait until you both stop actively looking at the photo] oh here, what’s your instagram? I’ll follow you!” open the search tab and hand it to them so you don’t have to worry about mistyping. 

also a very, very good method is to find something you can relate to the present conversation that you might not be able to immediately show. so an article, video, a picture you can’t-find-right-now, friend’s name, movie review, the name of this really cool bookstore you found in Annapolis because they mentioned they’re going there soon (if you really don’t mind bullshitting, find out where they’re traveling in the future, claim to remember a bookstore/museum/etc. you went to once, years ago and say oh shoot, what was the name? it was a pretty cool place - I’ll think of it tonight at like 2am. I can send you the name whenever I think of it if you like? [pause for answer] okay great! here, whats your number? and then go home, google some cool places, and text them a few hours later.) anything that gives you A. a way to continue this conversation and B. an excuse for not doing so immediately and, therefore, C. the chance to get their name & contact info.

now, if this isn’t just some cool-looking person you’re meeting for the first time, but someone you see regularly in a residential, academic or professional setting, start laying the groundwork for friendly vibes before you make a move. smile when you see them. if they’re a classmate, try sitting a lil closer (but not crazy close.) pay attention if they speak up in a group. if they drop something, and you don’t have to take extreme steps to do so, pick it up. if someone drops something across a lecture hall, don’t go running for it. but just close-lipped small smile + eyebrow flash when you see them and, after a few of these, try for a nod and/or a grin. if you’ve spoken to them at least once, if only to pick something up for them, you can try a “hey!/hello!” with a smile if they seem receptive to it. if you haven’t spoken to them yet, you’re welcome to try it if they seem receptive, but I usually wait.

if you don’t see this persona regularly, but semi-regularly, you need to evaluate whether the times you encountered them is significant enough for them to remember. please know this has waaay less to do with whether or not you’re memorable, and more to do with how much data our brains sort through every single day. think honestly about this, and decide this: when you eventually introduce yourself to them, would it be stranger to admit you remember the first time you both occupied the same space, or stranger to pretend to have forgotten?

I have a classmate who I vividly remember meeting for the first time, but we never really spoke until on instagram recently, 2 years later. So I never made a point of mentioning our meeting, until he actually referenced it! Then I went ahead and mentioned the highly-specific detail which made him so memorable as a question I was unsure of - “Ahaha yeah, his class was great! Weren’t you the one who _____?” 

Try never to be presumptuously confident in social settings until your conversational partner indicates it’s appropriate. It is almost always more polite to allow yourself uncertainty.

case in point: my default when friends are introducing me to people who I’ve seen around a few times is “Oh! Hello, I’m ___, haven’t we met before?” Assuming you have met before (even and perhaps especially when you know for a fact you haven’t) is SO MUCH SAFER than asking “have we met?” When they respond in the negative, we haven’t, you get to say “Oh, really? I guess I’ve just seen you around so much, I could’ve sworn we were introduced. Well, it’s so nice to officially meet you!” and then proceed with small talk, ideally including whoever your third party member is or, in the event of being one-on-one with this prospective friend, try asking them some questions about wherever you’ve been seeing them (so what do you think of our biology lecture?) OR compliments (Oh, I just noticed how awesome your watch is! where did you find that?) OR any other question you like. proceed with the small talk until one or both of you seems ready to leave, there’s a decent enough lull in the conversation, OR you’ve found a “to be continued thread” which you can string up before making your goodbyes. 

(Sorry if I’m exhausting this post with too many conversational examples, I just know how much younger, more-anxious me liked the idea of having a script to fall back upon)

don’t worry if you don’t get a contact method after the first conversation! you have spoken to the person, laid the ground work for a follow-up conversation, and that’s awesome. keep interacting with them when you see them, but be mindful of how interested they seem in interacting with you. the worst thing is to always stop and wait for a conversation when someone just wants to get on with their day. if they seem impatient, or busy, just say “hey! good to see you c:/have a good day c:/your hair looks great [insert name]!” and carry on. 

Friendships aren’t formed by constantly forcing conversations with a person. They’re formed by being mindful of those around you, considering people’s perspectives & emotions, and having a positive presence people want to be around.

you can shoot them periodic texts or DM’s, depending upon the contact method. best to start off is to send or discuss things relevant to your IRL conversation. if that starts a whole new text convo: awesome!!! if it fizzles out; let it fizzle. wait a few days/week/etc. try asking them for a book or music or coffeeshop recc, because people fucking love an invitation to offer their opinion (what do you think this novella of an answer is?) and then springboard into your own tastes, things you like and dislike, and see how well your views and tastes align. remember, talking to a potential friend is just like an interview! you may feel like you’re under examination, and need to win their attentions, but you’re interviewing them for the position too. 

finally, go ahead and invite them to hang out. you can do this waaaay earlier if you have sufficient reason/confidence to do so: if you compliment someone’s superhero shirt, and they say they can’t wait for the new movie next week, and you can’t either, say this! say you’re planning on going [insert date] if they wanna come get their mind blown with you and/or go halfsies on the pricey popcorn. 

also, naturally: if you’re in a coffeeshop and both clearly plan to be there again sometime soon, establish when you’ll see them next. when you do: don’t seat yourself at their table unless A. they invite you to or B. they’ve been clearly invested in talking with you for more than a few minutes, at which point you can say “Do you mind if I sit?” and then boom! coffee friendship!!! which is also the best way to deal with the natural, awkward pauses that come between topics - you can both reach for your cups as you think of ways to continue

But: if you don’t have the excuse of “here, wanna study for the next exam together?” or “carpool to work together?” or any of the above, go ahead and find something you think they might like too. If you have other friends who’d be down, and who aren’t super abrasive or wild or super super shy personality types, go ahead and try to make it a group hang. “Hey! Some of my friends & I are going to the movies on Friday night if you’d care to join!” orrrrrr invite them to grab coffee if that’s not where you usually meet them, or invite them to an outdoor market or some cool event (ideally with free admission!) like a live concert or gallery showing, etc. etc. 

If you only have their instagram when you first hang out with them, take a picture of them over the course of the night (not a selfie unless they ask for it.) I know how people feel about getting photographed, so I always take a bunch, tell them to try different poses, and then let them swipe through and pick their favorites for me to send them. offer the same, and tell them instagram/social media messagers kill the image quality if they don’t already know. Boom! now you have their phone number, and now they feel good about themselves bc of you. Woooo, positive correlations! if they want to take pictures of you, even if you’re squeamish around cameras, go ahead, laugh and let them go for it. otherwise, refusing the picture skews the friendship towards their ego, and suggest, if only subconsciously, that you like them more than you like yourself. 

from then on, it should be pretty smooth! see how the hang out goes, decide whether you want to keep hanging with them (as I said, you have that right!) and then text them when you want to. and as you spend more time interacting with them, and grow more comfortable, you might have some of Friendship Bonding Moments™ I’ve encountered. such as: being told I played a minor role in someone’s weirdly vivid dream, anytime someone sent me a post/song/video/article of clothing/picture of a dog and said it reminded them of me, sending me a new song they love and demanding I listen to it, asking for my opinion on what they’re going to wear tonight, and/or whether they should post a picture to instagram, someone randomly calling me up to say they’re headed to my favorite diner at 2am, do I want to come? (~Just College Things~), telling me they made extra dinner/food/baked goods and do I want some?

and then, congrats! you have made friends! if you really like them, and enjoy this sincerely and/or ironically, feel free to make them a friendship bracelet to immortalize the event once you feel comfortable enough with them

(although I have also promised to make friendship bracelets for people I have just met + had very positive conversations with, preceded by “Okay, that’s it, we’re friends now. You can expect your friendship bracelet in 3-5 business days.” and they all, without fail, freak out over the mere thought of a friendship bracelet and the implication that we are now officially friends. this works on people I met like, less than 5 minutes ago. it’s also really easy to say “you can expect your friendship bracelet in 3-5 business days. Here, what’s your instagram/phone number? I’ll text you!” bear in mind: don’t be presumptuously confident. gauge their level of enthusiasm before you ask for their contact details, or take the joke too far. but know that most will almost immediately say yes, because even adults who may laugh at the thought are still just little kids deep down, and everyone wants a friend to like them enough to make them a friendship bracelet)

if you’re looking for more than just casual friends: time, conversations and empathy all help to turn casual acquaintances into friends you can trust & rely upon. asking how they’re doing if it seems they’re having a rough day and actively listening, offering advice (only if they want it) or food or an indulgent stress relief hang out, or asking (one of the rare times presumptuousness is okay!!) if they wouldn’t mind letting you vent about a coworker or something frustrating - any time you encourage them to emotionally share with you, or you offer to share your emotions with them, will help solidify your friendship. as much as I hate admitting when I’m sad to my close friends, those that I do admit it to are the ones I trust & rely upon the most.

finally, most importantly and, yes, most clichédly: be yourself. The more a friend learns about you, the deeper the friendship. Never lie about yourself for the sake of impressing a friend, or all that effort you’ve put into making a friendship will be built on false grounds. you’ll never be comfortable or relaxed around someone you have to act around, so don’t! if someone doesn’t like you for you, they’re not worth your friendship in the first place. I may sound like Dr. Seuss or Hallmark, but I’m serious. 

Okay cool, so it’s 4:33 am and I should be studying for me french final in 6 hours, but hey, here’s like 3,000 words of rambly social advice and scripts. should I write a book about this? I feel like I could write a book about this. Hmm. Maybe thats just the espresso & caffeinated chocolate talking. please weigh in on book or nah in the comment section below

Anways, I hope with every fiber of my sleep-deprived soul that some small part of this goliath answer could help you! And if, in my stupor, I outlined every possible scenario except the ones you actually needed to know about, don’t hesitate to let me know and I’ll try my best to assist. Now go forth, make friends, and be you! ♥

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

destiel + meet cute?

Not gonna lie, I couldn’t come up with any good meet cute scenarios on my own so I found this one x And honestly, it’s perfect for Destiel. (also on ao3)

Dean and Charlie always made time to hang out at least once a week, even if it just meant walking home from work together.

Between Dean's job at Bobby's garage, his part-time gig bartending at a local bar, and his college courses, he was stretched pretty thin. Charlie was in a similar situation, juggling two jobs, one as the head of the IT department at some big name enterprise and another at a bookstore, and a new relationship with her girlfriend Dorothy.

When Dean had decided to finally get his degree, having gotten his GED a few years prior, he had met Charlie at the bookstore where he had been looking for a copy of the textbook Sam had accidentally ruined. She had been working behind the desk, tapping away on her laptop while blasting some kind of pop music, when Dean had gone to the front to buy the overpriced textbook.

They had both winced at the exorbitant price, Dean cracking a half-assed joke that had fallen flat as he pulled out his wallet. She had given a courtesy laugh before brightening with a genuine smile and punching a cash register keys that immediately brought the price down by at least twenty percent.

Beaming, she had informed him, in a conspiratorial whisper, that she had used her employee discount, much to both Dean's delight and astonishment. They had been friends ever since, bonding over their shared love of all things nerdy and the struggles of being the only LGBTQ+ members of their families.

Now, two years later, they were as close as siblings, Charlie the sister that Dean had never wanted and Dean the sometimes overprotective brother Charlie had never had. Between their busy schedules, it was increasingly difficult to hang out, even just for an afternoon.

Not wanting to give up on their hang out day altogether, they simply improvised. Which is why there Dean was, walking Charlie from her office building to the bookstore a dozen blocks away.

"Oh my god, did you see the new trailer?" Charlie asked after taking a sip of her coffee, some kind of caramel latte frappuccino thing with a huge dollop of whipped cream on top.

"Yeah. Looks pretty good," Dean answered, weaving around a woman pushing a three seated stroller. She murmured a grateful thank you as she passed.

"Pretty good? Pretty good?!" Charlie gasped, thoroughly scandalized. It showed on her face as she gaped at him, her jaw slack as she pushed her glasses further up her nose.

She gestured aimlessly with her free hand, nearly smacking a passerby in the face in her unchecked enthusiasm. Yanking her arm back, she continued on, "It's Wonder Woman 2, Dean! It's gonna kick ass!"

"I know, kiddo," Dean chuckled, holding up his hand in a placating gesture. Taking a sip of his own coffee, black with just a little bit of sugar, he rolled his eyes at Charlie's outburst.

Both of them were devout comic book fans, Dean preferring DC while Charlie was a Marvel girl through and through. They had never missed a superhero movie and they didn't plan to, always reserving tickets for the premiere. Charlie's hacking skills, while beyond illegal, were extremely helpful.

"So..." she sing-songed, batting her eyes at him innocently. But from the tone of her voice, Dean knew that she was anything but. "Have you thought about what I said about my boss?"

"Ugh, Charlie. Not this again," Dean groaned, hanging his head as they crossed the street. Shaking his head, he firmly announced, "For the last time, I don't wanna go out with your boss."

"But why not?" Charlie whined in return, jutting her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. It was the same pout that was just as effective as Sam's ridiculous puppy dog eyes, maybe even more so. "You've never even met him!"

"Yeah, that's why I don't wanna go out with him, Charlie," Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. For the past few months, Charlie had been trying to convince Dean to go on a date with her boss, claiming that he was perfect for Dean.

Apparently, the guy's name was Castiel which was the most pretentious thing he had ever heard and he had once gone out with a dude named Brady. And according to Charlie, he was downright dreamy.

Dean had to admit that she was probably right about that. If even she thought a dude was dreamy, he must be a modern day Marlon Brando.

Charlie had talked his ear off about how handsome and considerate her boss was, detailing all of his contributions to various charities from the local animal shelter to Meals on Wheels. Not to mention how entrepreneurial he was, opening the bookstore with his brother a few years back when he had moved to Lawrence from Illinois.

She had even sung praises about how smart he was. One day she had spent fifteen minutes detailing her boss' time at Columbia, listing his degrees, and mentioning a few books he had written.

But as amazing as this Castiel guy sounded, Charlie making it sound like the dude shot rainbows out his ass that she assured him was objectively perfect, Dean had learned his lesson about letting friends set him up with people.

The last time he had gone on a blind date it was with some guy his friend Benny had set him up with. It was a disaster.

The guy's name was Fergus but he went by Crowley, probably because his parents had cursed him with a ridiculous name like Fergus. He had spent the entire date, dinner at some overpriced French restaurant where Dean had stuck out like a sore thumb in his flannel shirt and faded jeans, talking about himself and making lewd innuendos about the size of his dick.

That had been the end of Dean going on blind dates. Besides, he may or may not have had his eye on someone.

There was a regular at the bar that had captivated Dean since the first time he had seen him and he had been working up the nerve to ask him out for weeks. And he wasn't going to give up on the cute nerd he'd admittedly been pining for just because Charlie had a hot boss.

The first time Blue Eyes, as Dean referred to the man in his head, had come into the bar where Dean worked, he had looked like complete and utter shit. His black hair was messy, his clothes were disheveled, and he was sopping wet.

It had looked as though he hadn't gotten the memo about the storm that had drenched the city and filled the sky with strikes of pale lightning. Looking exhausted, dark circles under his beautiful blue eyes, thus the nickname Dean had given him, he had taken a seat at the bar. With a resigned sigh, he had ordered some whiskey, a bacon cheeseburger, and a plate of loaded nachos.

Blue Eyes had offered to share his nachos with Dean when the sound of his empty stomach rumbling had filled the air. Dean had been eternally grateful, giving Blue Eyes a beer on the house.

They had spent almost two hours talking, bantering lightheartedly as Dean made drinks for the others at the bar. And yes, Dean might have been a teeny tiny bit more dramatic as he used the cocktail shaker to make cosmopolitans and daiquiris, flexing more than necessary to show off his biceps in his tight black t-shirt.

He had been pretty disappointed when Blue Eyes had finally left the bar, though he had left behind a tip worth more than his meal. His disappointment didn't last long. Blue Eyes showed up again the next night.

He had ordered one of the fancy cocktails that Jo had come up with to set the Roadhouse apart from other bars in the area and it had somehow morphed into a little game between them. Every time Blue Eyes came in, Dean would surprise him with different cocktails, never telling him what the drink was called until he had tried it.

Dean would never forget the look on Blue Eyes' face when he told him that he was drinking an angel's tit. The poor guy's entire face had turned bright red as he choked on the mix of cherry liqueur, half-and-half, and white creme de cacao.

But for all of Dean's flirting through sexually named cocktails, he had yet to work up enough nerve to actually ask him out.

"Anyway..." Charlie drawled, whipping some whipped cream off the tip of her nose. "You doin' anything tonight? It's been way too long since we've actually hung out."

"I work at the bar tonight but I'm off all this weekend for once. No classes, no work," Dean replied, a wide smile stretching across his face at the thought. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to sleep in past nine o'clock. He couldn't wait. "We'll have a slumber party. You can braid Sam's hair."

"Ugh, I haven't seen Sam in months. He's off being a hotshot lawyer," Charlie lamented, throwing her head back. Looking over at Dean, she narrowed her eyes and asked, "He still growing his hair out? It's gotta be past his ass by now."

"Oh, yeah," Dean agreed, nodding a couple times. "Pretty soon he'll be tripping over it."

Charlie laughed and started rambling on about how if Sam was Rapunzel then Dean must be a Disney princess, too. He nodded along as she debated whether or not he would be Moana, a free spirit who loved travel, or Belle, beauty and brains all rolled into one, until he was distracted by a store window.

It was an independently owned clothing store, an upscale boutique called Sew It Seams that catered to women especially. And by that, he meant that a large portion of their stock was lingerie.

They sold everything under the sun, from frilly lace panties to dominatrix-esque leather bustier, in every color imaginable. From what he had heard from customers at the bar, they actually had plus sized articles of clothing made for women who didn't just have hourglass figures or bigger thighs.

In their store window, there were a few torso mannequins, headless, armless, and legless as they advertised different types of lingerie. It was an unexpected sight on the street full of more family friendly shops which is probably why it caught Dean's eye.

Well, that and the fact that he had always been a bit fascinated by lingerie. Ever since he was nineteen and he'd tried on Rhonda Hurley's satiny pink panties.

Call it a kink, call it a fetish, call it a run-of-the-mill preference. Whatever the hell it was, he had it.

The only person he had ever dared tell was Charlie. Which is why he was glad she was with him.

As he admired a pair of bright red panties and a matching sheer babydoll, he reached over to nudge her hand. He groped under blindly under he finally made contact, muttering, "Hey, Charlie. Wouldn't I look sexy in that?"

He turned around with a cocky grin to see her reaction, expecting an eye roll or a punch on the shoulder. It was fair to say he was expecting to see Charlie standing beside him, not Blue Eyes himself.

The man blinked at him, his angelic blue eyes wide as Dean's face filled with heat. He quickly glanced around in search of Charlie, finding her about a yard away with a hand clamped over her mouth as she shook with poorly concealed laughter.

"Uh, I—" Dean squeaked, his voice high pitched, but he didn't get to finish his pathetic excuse because Blue Eyes cleared his throat and squinted at the store window.

"I suppose," he murmured thoughtfully, nodding to himself. But, turning to Dean, he pointed a finger at the store window and claimed, "But I believe that color would be better. It complements your skin tone."

His jaw nearly dropping, Dean inclined his head to look at the other mannequin that was adorned in the same style of lingerie. The babydoll and panties were pale pink, dainty and feminine and oh so intriguing.

"Uh, yeah... I guess you're right," he managed to stammer out scratching the back of his neck as he was overwhelmed with how much he suddenly wanted the lingerie set. Face still warm, he dropped his eyes to the sidewalk, staring at a spot of old chewing gum.

"So, uh..." Charlie's voice sounded, making Dean tense. He knew that tone. That was her 'I'm-about-to-meddle' tone. She confirmed it a second later when she announced, "I guess this is as good a time as any for introductions."

Dean whipped his head up so fast he was surprised he didn't break his own neck, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. She just smirked back at him before she spoke. "Dean, this is my boss Castiel Novak. Castiel, this is my best friend, Dean Winchester."

Dean's jaw immediately dropped as he turned to Blue Eyes, or rather Castiel. Charlie's fucking boss. The guy he'd been pining over and the guy she'd been trying to set him up with apparently one and the same.

Blu—Castiel offered a rather shy looking smile, drawing Dean's attention to the chapped pink of the other man's lips. He managed to tear his eyes away before things got even more awkward, returning Castiel's smile with one of his own.

Their moment was interrupted by Charlie who chimed in, "Y'know, as good as Dean would look in those panties, I bet they'd look even better on your bedroom floor, boss."

"Charlie!" Dean squawked indignantly, shooting a glare at his friend over Castiel's shoulder. "Stop hitting on him for me!"

"Well, someone has to, Dean," Charlie said simply as though it made complete sense. She rifled around in her purse for a moment, handing Dean her hoity-toity coffee as she did.

A moment later, she pulled out a slip of paper and a pen. After writing something on the paper, she handed it to Castiel, explaining, "That's Dean's number. He has the whole weekend off so you can take him on a date tomorrow."

She turned to Dean with a bright smile. "Well, I'm gonna get to work. You crazy kids stay here and talk about where you're going for your date—" she looked back at Castiel "—Dean loves pie. The diner on Fifth Street serves his favorite pecan pie. You should take him there."

Without another word, she spun on her heel and continued her walk to the bookstore, her ponytail swaying as she jogged across the street. Dean and Castiel were left to stare at Charlie's back before awkwardly glancing at each other.

"So..." Dean began, pursing his lips and shoving his hands in his pockets. He rocked back on his heels as he chanced a look up at Castiel. "Tomorrow night?"

"How about tonight?" Castiel countered with another smile, sounding adorably hopeful. After biting his lip, he elaborated, "I'll be at the Roadhouse tonight. Maybe we could split some nachos again? You could make me one of your dirty cocktails."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Dean responded, maybe a bit too eagerly. "How does a cock sucking cowboy sound?"

"Depends," Castiel said, nodding decisively. Smirking, looking much more confident, he inquired, "Is that the drink or you?"

Letting out a startled laugh, Dean answered, "Depends. How good are you gonna tip me?"

As Castiel laughed, the sound lighting him up from the inside, Dean acknowledged that he might have to change his stance on letting friends set him up. Then again, he hoped that he wouldn't ever need to be set up with anyone because Castiel seemed pretty damn perfect.

Send me Destiel prompts!

[iamanoriginal]

Dye For You

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Word Count: 2101

Warnings: Language

Summary: Soulmate AU where your hair color is identical to your soulmates. If Person A dyes their hair blue, Person B wakes up with blue hair. You wake up to a rainbow of colors.

A/N: Whenever I can’t think of a good title I just make bad puns. Hah. Enjoy! Requests are open!

Masterlist

“How long do you think it’s gonna take Oak to get shit-faced tonight?” Anthony asked, looking towards Daveed, who sat at the bar stool next to his own.

The guys of the cast had set up shop at a bar after not getting together for a while, and Oak was definitely drinking enough for the entire group.

“It depends. Under two hours. At least,” Daveed replied, gesturing down the bar where Oak sat, flirting with a bartender under the prospect of getting free drinks. Lin stood next to him, watching on.

“Nah. I think he’ll last. Over 2 hours.” Anthony countered, sipping his beer.

“Really? I don’t believe you.” Daveed narrowed his eyes. “Have you seen him? I’m sure he’s already tipsy.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Depends, what are the terms and what happens if I lose?” Daveed replied, drinking out of his own beer.

“He usually ends up hitting on literally anyone when he’s drunk. As soon as he does, we check the time. If it’s past,” Anthony glanced at his phone. “-11 o’clock, I win. If I do, you dye your hair. Temporary, of course. We have a show tomorrow. At least through rehearsal and the Ham4Ham show. I’m thinking pure rainbow. ROYGBIV. It’ll be perfect.”

“That’s harsh. I haven’t met my soulmate, I imagine this would make them hate me. Hopefully, they won’t care. Whatever. I’ll win. And when I do, you have to dye your hair. Deal?” Daveed asked, offering his hand. He was willing to risk a lot for a simple bet, but it was just who he was. Even if it meant risking his soulmate’s hair.

It was a weird quirk of society. Soulmates had the same color of hair. Whatever changes were made to one party’s hair happened to the other’s. For example, if one person died their hair blue, their soulmate’s hair would change blue as well. This made dying your hair very frowned upon, along with any drastic changes to body appearance.

Anthony stopped, thinking for a minute. “You’re on. Deal.” He reached out, shaking Daveed’s hand. The two turned to watch the storm go down. Oak was taking shots; Daveed was confident he would win.

“I’m going to fucking kill my soulmate when I meet them, I swear. My interview’s today! I’m never gonna get the job now, Sara.” You vented into the phone to your best friend, fingers clawing through your hair. You had woken up to find rainbow colored hair covering your head on the day of a very important interview.

Your soulmate had never done anything crazy, so you were shocked to wake up to a head full of clown hair.

“I’ll be right with you to kick their ass. I’m sorry, Y/N. Want to meet up for lunch after your interview? You can vent. I’ll be all ears,” Sara offered. You smiled. She knew just what to do to make you feel better. She truly was your closest friend.

“Yes. God, please. You know me too well. I have to get going, text me the details?” You asked, pulling on your shoes at the door to your uptown apartment.

“Yeah. See you,” Sara replied before hanging up. You sighed, giving yourself one last look in the mirror. Your usual brown curls were bright rainbow, and even pulled back in the most flattering way possible, it still stuck out like a hawk. You sighed. This was going to be spectacular.

“I can see by your hair that you’re quite the creative one. I’m surprised; your soulmate must care for you a lot if they’re willing to let you do that.” The sarcasm was evident in the woman’s voice as she scribbled down notes, glancing up every once in a while to take in your figure. You sighed.

“Actually, it’s the other way around. I woke up to this,” you gestured to your hair, “This morning. I didn’t have time to fix it, but I plan to do so as soon as possible.” You tried to remain calm, but this lady was ticking off and you could tell by the tension in the air that this was not going well.

She had the audacity to roll her eyes. “For all you know, they’ll just dye it again. This unpredictability is not wanted at this company. I’m afraid we’re done here. It was nice meeting you, Ms. L/N. I assume you can see yourself out?” She spit out, not even glancing up from her computer. You stood, shocked. You managed to shake it off and head towards the door. This company had connections and could easily blacklist you.

“Thank you for the opportunity. Have a lovely day,” You managed through clenched teeth. You exited the building, pulling out your phone. Sara had texted you the address of a cafe a couple blocks away. It was a pretty day, so you decided to walk.

As you walked up the street, you noticed couples that were obviously soulmates. You grimaced, would you ever meet yours? You honestly didn’t know if you wanted to; they had to be crazy if they were willing to dye their hair. It was practically taboo. Most places refused to sell it because of the logistics of it, you were surprised it wasn’t illegal. There were stories of hair dying working, however. Rich kids leaving the salon with a head of rainbow hair. They would find their soulmate very quickly afterwards. You guessed your soulmate was one to do so.

Eventually, you made it to the cafe. Sara sat at a table; she waved you over as you walked in. She smiled sadly as you sat down. She could tell it didn’t go well, it was evident by the frown on your face. “Hey. Sorry, kiddo. Let’s order and you can tell me all about it. Good?” So you did.

While waiting, you told the story of your horrid interview. Sara consoled you immensely, helping you feel a lot better.

“Yeah. Your soulmate’s a dick, whoever they are. Here, let me get a picture. Can I post this?” Sara asked as she snapped a photo on her phone.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.” Sara nodded in return, typing something out before posting it. She showed it to you.

Whoever you are, your soulmate hates you. Woke up on interview day with rainbow hair instead of brown. Didn’t get the job. #soulmate

You nodded in approval. “Perfect. Want to go to the bookstore? I’ve been itching to get my hands on this one I keep hearing about.” Sara nodded.

“Of course. You deserve it. Let’s eat, then we can go,” she spoke as the waiter arrived with food. You dug in.

“I just don’t see why someone would do that. It’s kind of an asshole move,” You complained as you pawed through the book selection, reading summaries.”

“Exactly, I couldn’t agree more. What kind of-” Sara was cut off by her phone. A notification tone went off. She ignored it and began to speak again before it cut her off again. And again. Notification after notification came through, the tone going off again and again. Sara gave you a confused glance before pulling out her phone. She scrolled through her phone, reading. Her eyes darted across the screen as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“What is it?” You asked. She tapped her screen, holding up a finger. She scrolled a bit more, tapping the screen. Her eyes lit up. She looked up at you, grinning.

“The internet found your soulmate. He’s a Broadway star. Holy fuck, he’s cute. Have you heard of Daveed Diggs?”

You adjusted your dress, taking a deep breath. It was a few days later, and tonight you were going to meet Daveed. He had gifted you tickets to Hamilton, the show he was in. After his fans found you, he had privately messaged you, introducing himself and giving you his number. The two of you had been texting nonstop, and you had a lot in common. He explained the rainbow hair, claiming it was a bet. You were still extremely nervous. This was the guy who was meant for you.

It was time. You were already in the theater, and Daveed had arranged for an usher to take you backstage after the show. You still had to watch the show. As you found your seat, practically dead center a few rows from the front. As the show began and some guy came out to sing, you grew increasingly nervous. A second guy came out, singing to the chords. The music was beautiful. Then you heard it.

“And every day while slaves were being slaughtered and carted away, across the waves,” Daveed sang out, taking center stage. He gazed across the audience, eyes landing on you. He grinned at you before continuing.

The show was amazing. He rapped very quickly during Guns and Ships, belting out lyrics. It was even better after the intermission. He blew you a kiss during his debut as Thomas Jefferson, he was very intense during the Cabinet Battles, it was all perfect. You were on your feet with the rest of the crowd applauding as it finished. Tears streamed down your face. Having known little about the show, you were amazed at the creativity behind it all.

As everyone was filing out, an usher appeared before you, smiling. “Ms. L/N? Mr. Diggs has made reservations for you to come backstage. Are you ready?” He asked, gesturing towards the stage. You nodded, following behind him.

As you approached backstage, many actors and actresses greeted you. They all seemed to know who you were.

“HI! You must be Y/N. I’m Lin. Diggs has told me all about you. Did you like the show?” A man you recognized as Alexander Hamilton approached you. You nodded.

“Holy fuck, yes. That was amazing.” You replied. Lin laughed out loud.

“Great. Diggs is in his dressing room, just wait here. He should be here soon. Have fun,” he spoke before winking at you.  He turned and walked towards another cast member. You smiled, leaning against a wall to wait patiently.

Eventually, Daveed appeared through a doorway in regular clothes and glasses. He walked towards you, stopping in front of you. You stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Y/-”

He cut you off by taking your hand and pulling you into a hug. He wrapped his arms around your frame, breathing in as he did so. Eventually, he pulled back. “Hey. You’re Y/N, my soulmate. I’m Daveed. Sorry, that was abrupt. I’m just excited. Did you like the show?”

“Oh my God, yes. It was amazing. Your portrayal of Thomas Jefferson was much better than the history book’s attempt back in APUSH. And holy shit, you can rap,” You gushed, grinning up at him.

He laughed out loud. “Good to know. I was wondering if you were up for dinner? Or we could head back to my place. It’s up to you.”

“I’m kind of hungry, actually,” You stated. He nodded.

“Dinner it is. Ready?” It was your turn to nod. He led you out the back entrance of the theater, out into the cold streets of New York.

“So, do you rap often?” You asked in an attempt to make conversation. His eyes lit up and you knew you had mentioned a passion.

“Yeah, actually. I’m in a group called clipping. It’s experimental hip-hop, but we mainly rap. I love it. The other guys are back in Oakland, which is where I’m from. What do you do?”

“That’s really cool. I’m a journalist, currently in between jobs. I had what I thought would be a successful interview last week, but they turned me down when I showed up with rainbow hair,” You deadpanned, glancing up at Daveed with a grin. He smiled sheepishly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry about that. I feel really bad about it now. At least it was temporary.”

As you talked back and forth, you slowly realized how much of a match you and Daveed were. All throughout dinner, you noted parallels between the two of you. You closed the door to your apartment after he dropped you off with a promise to see you again soon. You opened your phone to see two messages. One from Sara demanding details, and another Daveed.

Thanks for coming. I had a ton of fun. The cast and I are getting together tomorrow for Anthony’s birthday. Invitation has been extended to you. See you then hopefully? I’ll make sure to not make a bet that would result in me dying my hair.