#its noted on the price tag that its a: charming thing! fix it yourself!

[babehog]

Shes so cute... If only it was a standard size vinyl player...

[asa-sauce]

those forgotten things

❀ haikyuu!! x (ukai’s kid!) reader

flavor: honey mustard  

warnings: none!

a/n: hi, sorry for the long wait! if you're coming from my tiktok, thank you for the continued support! i don’t know who the specific love interest is going to be, so for now it’s basically the entire karasuno team x reader.

note: ukai is your adoptive father. and this takes place at very very end of season 1/very beginning of season 2. you are 16.

+ Your dad, Ukai Keishin, forgets his water bottle at the convenience store before practice. You decide to bring it to him... Big mistake.

The bell on the door announces your presence with a gentle chime, and the cool air coming from the ancient air conditioner hits your face.  It's a heavenly relief from the sizzling heat, and you thank heaven for the store being so close to school.

"Hi dad! I'm home!" You call out, but no answer comes.

"Where is he?" Misaki asks, head bobbing up and out like a buoy. There's a prep in her voice now, like a child at an amusement park.

"He's probably in the back or something, I don't know." There's no one else in the store.

She sets her heavy, multi-key chained school bag next to the chair, and you notice that the normally happy face of the plush bunny keychain is smushed against the table leg, smile distorted into a frown.

She starts her jaunty browsing around the store, weaving in and out of each aisle. You do the same, not knowing what you're in the mood for, and meet her at the candies and gum.

"Seriously, Y/n, how do you not find your dad attractive?" The question catches you off guard, and you find yourself quickly scanning the front of the store for any customer that might have just walked in. Did she really just ask that?

You swivel around in a slow, dramatic way, giving her an incredulous look that just about asks that question. She looks at you with that casual—but all too serious—charm, as if she had simply asked what the weather is going to be like tomorrow.

"'Cause he's my dad." She rolls her eyes, dissatisfied with the answer, then juts her head forward just enough to add more emphasis on her next words.

"But he adopted you. You aren't blood-related."

You stare at her. She can't be completely serious, right?

You and Misaki met last year on the first day of school. Meeting her was like something out of an anime. The rambunctious airhead meets the quiet, down-to-earth girl who just can't say no to people.

She literally proclaimed your friendship to the world on that first day of school.

So this: her apparent infatuation for your dad, is very far out there, yes. Yet in retrospect, it's nothing beyond her character.

"Jeez, you're weird," you say, deciding to smile it off. You turn to grab a neon blue bag of chips from the shelf beside you. Misaki laughs, head thrown back, in a maniacal way, and disappears behind the aisle end. "Did you get your food yet?"

"Yeah." She's chosen a popsicle today, already unwrapping it while she continues to peruse the aisles more, just for fun. Her fingers drag along the underside of each plastic price tag, making a clackclackclackclackclak sound that's almost ominous.

"How much is it?" You ask, to which she tells you. You go over to the cash register and take out the appropriate change from your wallet, placing each bill and coin into the correct spaces. Even though you're a member of the family-owned store, a business is still a business, and the small ones like this especially need anything and everything they can get to thrive.

Misaki sits at the table for a few minutes, and you guess that she's waiting for your dad to come back out. She's slouched over her brightly lit cellphone screen, her thumbs continually pattering as she responds to all her messages.

It's awkward.

Even though you and Misaki have gotten pretty close since meeting each other, those uncomfortable silences still sometimes appear.

But then she begins talking about a boy she's been texting these past few weeks, mostly talking it out with herself then seeking your advice. You give simple reactions, and comment when she expects it. A simple 'he did not!' or 'ugh!' will satisfy her.

Of course it's not all that one-sided. She talks, you listen; you talk, she responds. And quite frankly, you don't mind it.

But then the silence emerges once again, until she lets out a big, audible, intentional sigh and stands up.

"Well, I gotta head home, my mom's getting fussy about something again." She shoves her phone in the side pocket of her bag, short hair whipping around as she hoists her bag over her shoulder.

"Okay, see you tomorrow, Misaki." You can feel the breath of relief beginning to grow inside your lungs as she collects her things and heads for the door.

"Yup. Tell your dad I said hello!"

"I will."  

No you won't.

And with a final automated jingle of the door chime, she leaves. You wait until the white bunny keychain on her bag is no longer in view to release that breath of relief.

And then, you smile.

"Alright, dad! You can come out now!" you announce, your head tipped back towards the blue curtains. In a comical way, just the face of your father appears, with tufts of yellow hair sneaking out behind him. With his eyes wide he scans the room, side to side, searching for any trace of your friend.

"Is she gone?"

"Yeah, she is."

The rest of him appears then.

Ukai sits himself on the slanting, rickety stool behind the counter that is literally almost on its last legs, with his feet propped up. It's his way of "intimidating" all the "shitheads" that come through after school—is what he says.

You hop onto the counter, splitting open the chip bag. A puff of flavored air travels up into your nose.

"How was that English quiz today?" Ukai asks, catching a whiff as well while you pop the first chip into your mouth.

"Good. I got a 97." you reply after swallowing.

"That's my girl."

You hum in response, munching on another chip. Looking into the bag, you spot a wider, saltier chip that curls at one end. It takes up half the amount of chips, you realize as you take it. It should be a crime, you think, to fill up more than half of the bag with air.

"I'm gonna leave here a little earlier for practice tonight. A few of the boys wanted me to help them with a couple new combinations."

He swings his legs off the counter and sits up, mumbling something about wishing he had taken a nap before walking back into the house to change.

You go through the motions of unpacking your school bag, decideding to work on math first.

You spread your textbooks and papers out on the counter, an organized mess as you like to say, of calculus.

Your pencil moves rapidly across the page, the little flower charm on dangling back and forth with each squiggle.

Your dad leaves around ten minutes later, but not before giving you a quick kiss on the head. The sun is still high and proud, and has no intention to descend until an hour or more later.

It's your favorite time of day. The sun falls through the glass doors in a way that makes the entire world seem just a little more fanciful. It's usually quiet in the store, and after an entire day of constant conversations from you and those around, you can't help but yearn for these peaceful moments. It's entirely why you agreed to take over Ukai's shifts ever since he began coaching Karasuno's male volleyball team.

If anyone comes in at this hour though, they're likely to be a student from Karasuno, but in about five minutes the store's most frequent customer, Etsu, will stop by, and will no doubt be mewling for a meat bun.

You plop down on the seat behind the counter, taking a moment to your self to breathe. You tug at the base of your long ponytail, releasing your unruly hair from the confines of your hair tie. Although you aren't directly related to Ukai, over the years you've inherited parts of his look. One of those being your 'lion's mane' (as your grandmother calls it).

Ukai had adopted you when you were ten, but the six years you've known each other feel like sixteen. You don't remember much about your biological family, and for privacy reasons Ukai doesn't know any more than you do.

You have no harsh feelings towards them--no contempt or ill-wishes for leaving their own daughter. Of course, there are days when you wondered where they are, and what life might be like if they kept you.

Perhaps it is for the best, you always came to. Maybe it is meant to be this way, because at least the life you are living now with just your dad and grandparents is good. It's good—

You hear a dull chip as the lead snaps. It flies off to the side, leaving a small pencil marking etched into your paper. It's minor, but still an annoyance when deep in thought or concentration. Still, it's nothing that can't fixed with two pumps at the end of the pencil. You start over again, scribbling out the final numbers when familiar happy mewl grabs your attention. Before you can even look over, your cheeks lift into a smile.

"Hi, Etsu!"

It's a reaction that happens as soon as the sound reaches your ears. You set your pencil on your paper, math equations and theories slipping from your mind.

Etsu hops onto the counter, his blazing orange fur shimmering in the sunlight. Despite him being a stray, his fur is the softest thing on the planet. You hope he is a stray, because that's how you connected to him in the first place. Sometimes you wonder if he's had those long, quiet nights alone.

"You ready for a meat bun?" You say, sliding a hand back from his head to mid back. He anticipates your touch, always tilting his head up before you caress him again. The mewl he gives, so meek and mild, is what you understand to be a 'yes'.

And so you go over to the pork bun warmer and carefully pluck a bun from the middle shelf, trying your hardest not to touch the metal racks in between. There's still a little splotch of red on your hand from the last time you burned yourself.

The doughy flesh of the bun is warm under your fingertips, and droops slightly, heavy with pork. Steam escapes from every pore, and then, as you slice the bun open, it billows out.

The soft sounds of Estu enjoying his meal brings you a gratification that only comes on—again—during peaceful moments like these.

But as you watch him, you notice your dad's tall, black water bottle and cellphone sitting next to the rotary.

I should probably go and give it to him, you think, watching the bottle now instead of Etsu.

It's about four minutes walking distance from the store.

It wouldn't hurt.

"Nana! Dad left his water here. I'll be right back!"

You wait until you hear the warm, candied voice of your grandmother to leave the store. For a moment, a part of you misses the cool air conditioning.

****

As you enter the breezeway leading to the gym, you realize that you've never been here after school. There's a different vibe, you immediately notice; one that has your steps slowing.

You have never seen the boys your dad coaches. It's not like he forbade you from going to games; and it's not like didn't have any interest in the sport. It's just that you...never.. saw them practice.

You can hear the shoes squeaking and the ball slamming against the waxed floor. It's starts to sound like a horror movie soundtrack, in a weird way.

You peep your head in, carefully clutching the metal door frame.

Five boys, the ones your dad mentioned about earlier, are the first things to catch your eye. One of them, with hair as orange and fiery as Etsu's, is mid-air.

You spot your dad fifteen feet away to the left, arms crossed over one another, head tilted down and eyes wound up--his Focus Face, as you liked to call it. He's deep in his concentration, watching every move of the players on the court. You don't want to interrupt him, so you wait till one of the sides makes a point.

That point comes no sooner after you decide, and after it does, the boisterous cheers of the side closest to you fill the room. You take one step in, more confident, then another, till you're past the metal threshold.

"Dad?"

The man in question turns on instinct. He knows that voice. For fifteen years he's heard the sound of that word, the specific pitch and inflection. So he turns, void of any hesitation or forethought, only wondering why you're here a good few seconds after he sees your face.

Everyone else turns too. The word is so foreign in that environment it feels like slime against skin. The cheers stop. Even the ball stops rolling, and all eyes are on you.

"(Y/n)? What are you--" your father begins, still wide-eyed and surprised. They stay like that for only that moment, however, before returning to their sharp gaze. He turns to the boys, and says, "Excuse me for a second."

You meet him halfway as he walks towards you, neverminding the boys' stares. Haven't they ever seen a girl before? Wasn't that a girl standing right beside your dad?

"You forgot your water bottle," you half-whisper. The stares are getting to you, and you start to feel like you're being cooked alive. "I thought you might need it."

Behind him, a soft murmur lays low in the air. You're hyper-aware of it. What are they saying?

"Thanks, sugarplum." Your dad smiles, something that you know others rarely see, and takes the bottle.

You follow the same path back towards the doors, every now and then peaking glances back at the curious boys. They look kinda goofy, you think, just standing there like they had just witnessed a miracle, like the Lord Jesus Christ himself had come down from the heavens.

But as you turn the corner, a wall that wasn't there before blocks your path. It takes two seconds to register this, but in that first second, you're already colliding into it.

You stumble back, and so does the wall, giving you enough space to look up and see two eyes staring down at you. They're brown and wide with fear, as if had just broken an ancient artifact and was about to be executed.

A squeaky sorry tumbles from your lips at the same time he apologizes.

"Are you okay?" The wall--boy...man?--says. You're still in a daze, but lucid enough to give him a reassuring smile. You've seen him around before. You've never talked to him, but always feel bad that others perceived him as villainous or criminal. Deep down you he know has a kind soul... and a cute face.

"I'm fine! Don't worry about it."

"(Y/n)! You alright?" Your dad calls out from where he is, leaning over to see who you bumped into.

"Yeah! Everything's good!" You pip.

The wall in front of you shifts to the side, clearing the way for you to exit.

You walk with your head down all the way back home, afraid that anyone and everyone could see how red your face was.

God, that was embarrassing.

****

"Coach, was that your daughter?!" Tanaka says, almost teasingly. He's the first to break the silence, and has an apparent death wish.

Soft eyes go razor sharp again. No way was he going to let any one of those hormonal teenage boys near his precious daughter.

"Get back to work, Tanaka!" Ukai barks. All the color drains from Asahi's face, who is still standing by the doors.

"Wait, you mean... I just ran into your daughter?"

"It's okay, Asahi, don't worry about it."

"But...but..."

"Does she go to Karasuno?" Hinata asks over Asahi's blubbering, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"Yes, but don't you dare even think about--

"Is she a first year?"

"SHE'S A SECOND YEAR, FIRST YEAR, NOW GO GET READY FOR PRACTICE."

"Y-yes sir!"

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.12

It's late Friday night or very early Saturday morning depending on how you want to look at it. You're just laying on your couch playing Stardew Valley when your phone goes off. Without looking you answer it.

“Why are you even up?” comes Kirby's exhausted voice from across the line.

“Medical condition, wbu?” you place the phone in between you ear and shoulder but don't really change your position as you continue with your game.

“Jesus fucking Christ you did not just pronounce 'wbu' like 'wah-bah-u'.” he's ranting a bit and you know from experience this is the tired slap happy ranting where he sets himself off every five minutes on new topics. So, you wait it out and continue your quest in learning the wizard's secrets.

Kirby finally calms down after a few moments to get to the point of why he called. To remind you that Saturday Night Dead was canceled tonight due to the Pride Picnic tomorrow.

“I know.” you said plainly barely paying attention to the ginger on the line.

“You're a little shit.”

“I know that too.” a smirk graces your lips and you pause your game.

You listen to Kirby's rant for three minutes before asking if anyone else still “needed” a reminder. And when he said 'no' you sent him off to bed and said you'd see him Sunday morning. With a cranky man toddler dealt with you went back to your game.

Contrary to what you had originally thought, this week had been pretty chill. Everything had been going great, no drama in the town, no set backs with the picnic, your stalker had been keeping a low profile, and sure you were on day three of no sleep but that's just a you issue really. You didn't even have a foreboding feeling about the picnic. Everything was going great...at least it would be had Jo not   specifically requested you wear something red, to her recital in a few weeks.

It's going to be so hard to thrift something school appropriate, red, and in your size. You thankfully have three weeks but unfortunately you're limited to weekend trips since you work during the week and wouldn't be able to go a few hours out to larger thrift stores to drive a few hours back home.

Your do nothing day is turning into a do something day. And you definitely can't get any sleep tonight because now you know you have something to do at five AM and you just wouldn't be able to rest peacefully at all. Scared that you'd fuck up the shopping trip you had planned. God you hate executive dysfunction and the anxiety it gives you, even for something like sleeping.

Thursday evening you spent all night googling the towns within a five hour radius and their second hand shops, after Jo had made her request to you. Your big ticket shops were two closer to the border of Pennsylvania. They were in pretty medium to high income neighborhoods so were the most likely to have formal wear on hand. Your plan was to drive there and get to the closer one by eight maybe get some breakfast while you waited for the shop to open. Then go to the second, and if you still hadn't met the requirements for an outfit you'd go to the town an hour away from there. Just to rinse and repeat until you went to all eight locations on your list. Making one big circle back to Kepler.

You really hoped you find something to wear at the first two. Seriously you don't want to be out shopping all day but you'd rather have a buffer of looking for things now than rushing the night before her recital.

Checking the time you see it's just a little after one in the morning. You've been playing Stardew for a few hours and are starting to get bored. Maybe you should switch games? Exiting out you ruin any progress you've made for the day, but you couldn't remember so it probably wasn't important progress. And you are now scrolling through your games looking for something to play.

Spiritfarer? No you don't feel like crying right now. Undertale? No you really don't feel like crying right now. Onion Boy Commits  Tax Evasion? Hmm, possible...but it's a quick game and you'd be done and back here in thirty minutes. Sally Face? Yea! You've been meaning to replay it for a while now and this seems as good a time as any.

Loading the game you settle deeper into the couch to become a teenage ghost detective. And you stay like that for the rest of the night until your alarm goes off mid way through chapter two. You'd been so focused on trying to get secrets that you hardly noticed the time going by. Okay, you were looking at Gizmo and taking pictures of the silly furball.

Stretching you get up and make your way to your room to grab a change of clothes, neck snapping to the side as you went. When you enter your room you're met with a white face with blocks of black for the eyes and black lipstick as its only facial features looking at you from the corner just feet away from the door. Even though your heart jumps into your throat at the sight you notice the figure doesn't get closer to you. Noting that and its immobility you figure it's a really weird and specific hallucination.

'Fucking weird?' you think as you ignore the hallucination and start rummaging through your closet.

It wouldn't be the first time a source of media has either triggered or inspired one of your hallucinations. But the face isn't exactly Sal's mask but it is mask like. Maybe Sal mixed with a panda. That's a fun thought. But overall nothing you need to worry about. Just have to get sleep tonight so you could enjoy the picnic tomorrow without any issues.

When you turn back around with your clothes in hand the hallucination is gone. You shrug before going to your bathroom to change. In a blink you are out the door and on the road by five after five. You hope you pass a Dunkin' in an hour or so, you'll need a little energy boost to get your day started. But pushing that thought aside you turn up your radio and turn off your thoughts.

Just vibes for right now, just you and the empty road.

Making it to the first thrift shop you are pleasantly surprised to see a string of old ladies shopping today. Wonderful, they'll look at knick knacks and you'll look at clothes. Looks like there won't be a need to guard clothing with your life. However when you get into the store it becomes incredibly apparent that the only thing to look at here are in fact the knick knacks.

Sighing you figure it'll at least be worth it to comb through skirts and shoes. Skirts are very limited to paisley prints that give you middle school dance flash backs, and long khakis. Neither are really what you're looking for right now so you leave them be. They'll find their homes with some home schooled kid eventually. Shoes are a bit more promising as you find a pair of red kitten pumps in your size immediately, they're a little worn but nothing a little shoe polish and leather paint can't fix.

That is until you think you see something grab at your wrist.

When you jerk back a shoe drops from your hand and the heel pops off. Again a very easy fix, plus this may get you a discount. Dropping to your knees you try to grab the heel from under the rack and when you do you notice a pair of boots that look like they've been hidden behind several pair of knee high riding boots. You grab them, they're reddish brown suede heeled boots. They're in pretty good condition and the price tag says thirteen, not bad. And they're in your size! Best find of the day, calling it now. You quickly collect your shoes and make your way to the register. While you may not wear the kitten pumps often you for sure have just found your new favorite boots.

Getting back in the car with one of three pieces for your outfit and one store down you make your way to the next town over for its store. The second store had a much wider selection of clothing however you didn't find much of anything this time. But there was a cute mini pencil skirt that had a tiny orange heart on the left side hem. You couldn't resist it when it was only two dollars.

Third times a charm or so they say. But as you're looking through the racks of dresses and skirts you start hearing whispers. Briefly looking up to see if anyone was actually around to where you'd be able to hear them you see no one. It's weird that you'd get auditory hallucinations without a visible one or without being asleep. That puts you on edge but you ignore the feeling to continue your shopping.

You've just turned to go have a look at the blazers when a voice pops into your head.

'He's here.' there's an edge of static following the words and the buzzing is enough to cloud your own thoughts.

Neck snapping to the side twice before cracking on the third time, “There we go” you say as you look around  only see families with kids in the store with you. No one is on their own or even looking your way.

'That you can see.'

Your heart is pounding harshly against your chest and while every fiber of your being is saying run. You can't it'd be obvious or it'd make you look like a whack job. So with a sharp intake of air you steady yourself and being to walk calmly to your car.

It's broad daylight and you would definitely be making a scene if your stalker tried anything. If anyone even came near you right now you'd probably scream in self preservation.

But it turns out you didn't need to worry as you got into your car, locking the doors without hassle. You didn't bother turning your radio on as you drove to the forth store. There wouldn't be a point not like you could focus with your nerves so frazzled. And that frazzled feeling doesn't go away as you arrive at the store.

Staying in the car a moment you wait to see if any other car near by seems familiar. Or any persons exiting seem familiar, like you've seen their faces in passing. No one does, and while that puts you at ease you'll still be vigilant of your surroundings.

The store's much smaller than the previous three and you decide to start with the blazer section this time. It seems like a good choice, even though it looked like a sea of black ¾ sleeve blazers and jackets you caught a glimpse of red from inside one coat. Pulling the hanger off you notice it isn't a richly colored lining but that someone shoved a red Chinese inspired silk skirt into the blazer. You aren't sure if they were judging the compatibility of the items as an outfit or if they were trying to hide it, but either way it's ended up in your hands. It's beautifully decorated in golden swirls and a dragon pattern embroidery. Putting it up to you it curls around your waist. Could mean it'd be a bit big for you, but nothing a little sewing couldn't fix.

You're pretty sure you had a black turtleneck tank top that would look great with this, and still be appropriate for hot late July weather. But maybe an additional red blazer or shawl would be a good idea. Looking at the sea of black before you you think it'd be best to continue this hunt another week.

Right now your nerves are fried and the sun is already starting to set. With thoughts of getting caught alone in the dark with your stalker you can't help but want to get home as soon as possible or at least get to a town where people would know you if your body showed up in a ditch.

Checking out with your skirt you once again find yourself in your car driving along the highway.

You get back to Kepler a little after nine, gas tank near empty so you drive on to the mini mart rather than stopping at home. You notice another car, which isn't strange for a gas station but very rare that more than two customers are here at the same time. Getting in to pay for gas you're stopped by Ronnie's pissed off voice.

“Leave Dave or I'll ban you from the shop!” she seems to seethe at the man in front of her.

“You don't have that kind of power Veronica.” gross it's David.

Whatever feeling of uncertainty you had before vanishes instantly at seeing the slime ball try to “flirt” with Ronnie. He continues to pester her and the two don't even register your entrance. Unfortunately for Ronnie she really can't do anything to stop these advances without getting in trouble. Fortunately for you, you have no such qualms.

“She said fuck off.” you push past the man shoulder checking him as you get to the counter to start talking with Ronnie.

David stumbles away not expecting the rough push. He glares down at you and you ignore him now that you're in a setting with another person. A person who has access to a silent emergency police button if things go sideways. You have back up this time and an escape plan, there's no way David can harm you right now.

“Hey, I'm gonna need thirty on pump four.” you said hoping you could just ignore the man and stall by talking about useless merchandise in the store to get him to leave. But that was before you're interrupted.

“Oh did someone grow a back bone while I was away?” you roll your eyes and pause before you lie.

“...anyway is Tim on break yet?” hoping she caught the look in your eyes to play along.

Tim was a new hire that David probably didn't know since he just got back into town. Easiest one to lie about and make excuses for why there wasn't a fourth car in the lot. The boys only seemed to have the RV and the sedan so perfectly reasonable that he got dropped off because one of his roommates needed the car.

The way Ronnie's eyes widen at you aren't out of relief but more out of realization. She shakes her head slightly, and you want to smack her for being an idiot and ruining your attempt to scare David off when she turns and yells towards the back.

“Hey Tim! You have a visitor!” you jump a bit at her volume and notice that David tenses by your side as well.

'...is she bluffing...' if she is this is the dumbest fucking bluff in the world and so easy to catch on to. You'll have to get her acquainted with true crime podcasts and shows so she can be better prepared in the future.

It isn't until you hear muffled swears and the sound of thudding from the back room of the store. It isn't long before the door to the back opens and you hear Tim's hushed voice speaking to Marigold for a second, “can you please not walk in front of me.”, and you see Tim walk through the door.

Tim's brown eyes scan the store clearly trying to find either Brian or Toby. His gaze barely passes over David but when it settles on your form leaning away from said creep and Ronnie shifting from one foot to the other the situation seems to click.

It was such a subtle change in his eyes, something you're sure that had you not been trying to catch his gaze to get your message across you would have missed. The way the highlight died before picking back up. It was probably just a trick of the over head lights, maybe he shifted a bit and it caused the light to hit differently. Something you could brush off...something you would have brushed off had you not heard a different voice speak when he opened his mouth.

“YN hey, did'ya need somethin'?” it was a notch lower than normal and somehow the tone was smoother than his usual rumble. For a moment you think he put on a voice for bravado.

Something inside tells you that's not Tim. But right now you need someone who looks like Tim. Someone who despite their “short” stature has an obvious muscle mass to them. One that confidently says “authority” to scare off the creep next to you.

You wrack your brain for something anything to say that would seem normal in this situation while you could try to assert the discomfort of Ronnie and yourself in your current situation. Just as you go to speak David begins to talk over you as he greets the man in the room.

“Hey there, name's David. Nice to see a new face in this place, how long you been here?”

Tim slides his eyes away from you and back over to David. He seems to straighten out his posture and looks over you and Ronnie before staring back at David.

“A while, is there a problem up here?”

“Oh no 's nothing like that!” David says jovially as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You jerk from the contact. “Just talking to these nice ladies.”

'Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting' plays over and over as you squirm out of his arm.

There's an emotion you can't quite place running through you as you heart rate picks up. You feel sick as if you can feel the bile rising to your throat. Are you having a panic attack? No that's not it you're too conscious and your thoughts aren't a jumbled mess. You're probably just over stimulated. You want to calm down.

'Do you' the whispered voice is back, 'Do you really?'

It's mocking you and the strange emotion from before spikes. Is this...is this rage? Are you so upset at being touched that you're experiencing genuine rage? One with such a burning passion that you can feel your body grow warm all over.

But what did the voice ask 'do you?' do you what? Do you want to calm down?

….no....

No you didn't you can feel it in your veins, in your bones, in your entire being. You didn't want to calm down you wanted to hurt David. You want to tear him to pieces. You wanted him to give you  a reason...any reason at all. Any reason to fucking destroy him.

You aren't entirely sure where these thoughts are coming from. Maybe you're just overstimulated, your  nerves fried from the weird feeling at the thrift shop today and then paired with someone you hated very much, touching you out of no where seemed to be your ultimate breaking point.

It's Tim who brings you out of your thoughts.

When did he get so close to you?

“I think you should leave. I know for a fact YN's boyfriend won't take kindly to you upsetting them like this.” he stresses the 'them' and it seems you've missed a few key points...like when the hell you got a boyfriend?

“Oh right, what's that scrawny kid gonna do twitch at me.” when did David start taking that tone with Tim and why was he talking about Toby? What did Toby have to do with this? How did David even know about Toby?

Seems David's taunt and knowledge of Toby unsettled Tim as well, if the hand on your shoulder gripping tightly had anything to say. Has that been there this whole time? When did he put it there?

“Trust me the kid's bite 's lot worse than his bark.” there's humor in Tim's voice as he says that but it's like an old joke no one else has context for.

'Fuckin' dick...is that suppose to be a joke about his mutilated mouth?' it really does sound like it. Maybe you're reading the clues wrong...maybe you heard Tim wrong.

Thankfully whatever the fuck is building up comes to an end when Pigeon walks through the doors. Oh she's on duty, Deputy Pigeon. She looks at the four of you and your positions. And although she has a pretty good idea what's happened from Ronnie's texts she can't help but ask.

“Al'ight, what's going on here?” it's clearly been a long day for her.

“Harassment. We've asked him to leave the store but he's refused and keeps bothering our customer and us.” Tim's fast response had you and Ronnie stumped.

Did a white cis male actually come to the aid of two decidedly not male people...instead of the other white cis male? Has Hell frozen over?

It's like he knew just what to say to the officer. And he didn't try to tiptoe around it to save the other man. Tim clearly didn't want this dragging out any longer than it already has. Even David himself seems a bit taken aback by Tim's, accurate, claims. Meanwhile Pigeon looks around the room and sighs. While she knows her younger sister wouldn't have texted if this wasn't serious she was the only one on duty tonight and would only be able to take the other three's statements.

“Al'ight I'll grab y'all's statements starting with you Nychn c'mon.” the tired looking woman took David outside so he could tell his side of the story. But even with two against one he'll probably end up getting a ban from the store. Especially since he did harass a customer and not just an employee.

After getting his statement and watching him drive off from the establishment Pigeon returned back inside.

“I swear tha' boy's head has never been on right.” shaking her head.

Pigeon asked for both your and Tim's sides of the story taking you a little ways away from each other  to “prevent compromising the other's story”.

“So... looks like I've got everything, I'll have the station call Monty in the mornin' and let 'im know that he's got a new ban.”

“What about Ronnie's statement?” Tim asks as Pigeon put away her pocket pal.

“Oh Tim, Pigeon's my sister.” it's the first time Ronnie's said something since calling for Tim.

At least you think it is after all you did have a little spell after being touched.

Tim nods and Pigeon heads off after warning the three of you to stay out of trouble. Now with just the three of you in the shop you turn to Tim.

“Thanks for the save Tim.” He just nods again.

“No problem, but you really should'a said somethin' sooner.”

“I don't know what happened I like blanked and forgot you went on break before he came in.” Ronnie pipes up looking flustered.

Weird. You've noticed that does tend to happen when David's around. Maybe you should look into memory stealers. Might be why David's vibes are all off. That or he's a fucking serial killer and your instincts are trying to warn you but there are so many red flags your brain glitches instead. Whatever the reason may be you'll have to keep your guard up when he's around. It's super sketchy he left when Bambi went missing and it's a strange time to come back to town after “helping” your sister after her divorce. Two months isn't enough time to find a new routine or settle court battles.

Tim leaves to clock in and continue his break for another twenty minutes. You aren't sure that's right but Ronnie doesn't seem to complain and you've got to admit he did save you guys from that creep unpaid so he kinda deserves it. You go to pay Ronnie for gas and for some of the frozen taquitos that they normally have on the rotation cooker. But she puts thirty dollars on your pump and then just hands you a pack of the taquitos.

“Thanks for...y'know.” she might be a bitch but Ronnie can be nice if the situation calls for it.

Plus you can see by the expiration date that she'd have to just toss these out at the end of the night anyway. Who are you to turn down free food?

You head home and take your clothes and taquitos inside. You toss the clothes in an arm chair in your living room. And fall asleep on your couch shortly after eating. You are thoroughly exhausted and you had actually been tired last night. Had it not been for errands you'd have slept last night. Now you definitely have to sleep early to wake up early to finish cooking for the picnic.

[demonicdiligence]

Shivers

Your claws are alight with inspiration once again. Sharpened digits take to work with a natural rhythm. The charm in your hands is intended for one of those far-off universes, sitting on the tipping point between desolation and normalcy. You saw things again, Aamon. And you will never stop seeing them. Every world is a pinprick in your pores, making your hair stand on end. When the space between atoms sings to you, it vibrates in your skin.

The multiverse talks to you in shivers. And here it comes, clawing at your spine once more...

You stop working. It’s as sudden as a car crash. Your skin is clammy and your hair stands on end. Goosebumps raise, and your extremities shudder. But this has happened before. Sometimes you make these visions happen, and other times, they happen to you. Sometimes you convince the universe to sing to you, and other times it rips your maw asunder and screams down your throat.

It screams all truths, all states of all matter in all worlds, all in cacophony. Filter the noise. Ride the sensation.

[What is above me?]

<The wooden roof of this cabin, wrought of your own hands. Above that: the ashen rainfall of your once proud corpse. A million horns hang above you and construct your own Heavens. Empty air, or the closest approximation here, lies betwixt. It contains no oxygen, hydrogen, and all other manner of filler chemicals needed to make breathing possible. And yet it is. Here.>

[How about ‘above me’ in a metaphysical way?]

<On the path of this one singular vector you’ve defined, a line drawn from your skull to all metaphysical planes above, at least four-trillion fully formed universes exist. Some of them even carry life. Most are inert clumps of gas and mineral that shall never know love, nor the laugh of a child, nor the omnipresent dread of the atomic bomb. Poor research material. Excellent mining fodder.>

Your skin is slick with sweat. The cold takes you. You feel the expanse of nothingness all around you and under your skin. You smell the primordial soup bubble in a million-million worlds. It smells like rancid takeout and cheap perfume. You exhale and focus again.

[And the ones that carry life?]

<You can feel them, but a breath away. One-hundred and forty-seven thousand, three-hundred and twelve universe-units above you (we still think this is an awful unit of measurement, by the way--) >

[Nevermind that. What do we feel there?]

<You feel their breath. A young person. You can tell that they’re a child, even though their body is shaped unlike any species you are familiar with. Masses of chitinous joints and limbs connected by stringy, condensed musculature fit on a wire frame. Fuzzy probes jutting from their head let them taste the air around them as they hock wares in their territory. Calling them insectoid is wrong, but the closest we’ll get for a long while.>

<They make shop in an alleyway, nuzzled between two buildings whose brick facades will crumble in twenty year’s time. Myriad scrap metal lies atop a blue blanket, with hastily scribbled price tags attached to each hunk. They have only sold four bundles of scrap all day. They will eat hot potash for dinner - a local, nutrient-rich, flavor-lacking meal. They will eat nothing for breakfast tomorrow. They know this and lament.>

<Their breath echoes across eternity. They think themselves insignificant, but you comprehend them. What started as a warm breath spread out, vibrating between atoms and all that exists beneath atoms. And now it’s reached you, chilling you to your core.>

[What will happen to them?]

<If you do nothing? Live a life of half-portioned meals and ever-creeping anxiety. The tune they march to is one of war without end, where the only career for one like them is stamping postage onto parcels filled with high-grade, military munitions. Such is the fate of billions, perhaps trillions, across all worlds, timelines, and universes.>

[And what can I do? Show me that.]

<Your pansophical sight tunes away from the child, as if they were nothing more than a radio station on an ad break. You see somewhere far away. You’ve traveled an unfathomable distance, and yet you can’t tell yet if this scene lies across oceans, stars, or universes.>

<A team of scientists, the same insectoid species as what you had seen before, prepare their proposals to military brass. Sometimes, one must turn their life-saving research to death-dealers in order to fund it. Shameful, but not uncommon.>

<You peer into the future of each proposal. How their research will progress - what its effect will be - how it will be employed in the combat effort. But one in particular catches your eye.>

<A promising proposal on its face, the third proposal - a wormhole generation device - will be narrowly discounted as a viable subject for funding due to its inherent risks.>

<It will never work. They’ll never discover the secret sauce to destroying spacetime. Not in this timeline. They dodged a bullet.>

[But a small change could fix all of that...]

All the sudden, one of the scientists has a revelation.

If the brass gets worried about the risks of the device, they could always host their experiments on one of the newly annexed islands they’ve obtained during the war effort. Somewhere safe and private to hold experiments, and if the experiments go poorly, their research could easily be scuttled.

<The scientist hastily scribbles notes in their already packed margins, prep work for the Q&A session that will follow their presentation.>

<Over the next five years, based on promising initial results - and a prize too tempting to pass up - this military’s budget will funnel straight into this secretly useless endeavor. Money that could have been spent getting men, mechs, and missiles - all of it apparated into rarified nothingness.>

<Outraged, a member of the top brass will visit in seven year’s time, to “inspect” the operation for himself. This is a fabrication. He wants to look them in the eyes as he tells the science team that the station is to be abandoned. And yet things are too far gone. The war effort has turned. This one project has turned from a war-ender into a Hail Mary to get back in the game. It just needs a few small tweaks, and it will be ready for military deployment, they promise...>

<They never meet on this island again. Instead, at a war tribunal in two year’s time - and then in prison for the rest of their lives. They eat nothing but cold potash and stale vitamin water until infinity takes them.>

Years of funding wasted. A weakness that can be capitalized on. Terrible violence, followed by hard-won peace. It’s surprising how often war is decided by mere paperwork.

You do not enjoy this death, Aamon. War is many things, but its primary purpose is the cessation of life. Even if you did not swing a blade nor feel your clawtip twitch on a hair trigger, having a hand in death-dealing at all turns your stomach.

Even knowing that more would have died had you done nothing is a paltry recompense, in the moment you nudge this world down a brighter path.

But in time you will feel their breath again. Two-billion voices sighing in disparate relief as this decades long, torturous brawl comes to a blistering end. The cold will settle, and the breath of new life will fill the world again.

And with their breath, echoing across infinity, the shivers will return.

...

You come back with a thud, slamming your head into a bookshelf behind you as your legs give out. The magical trinket you had been hammering away at falls to the ground. It clinks and clatters, rolling away into the inky blackness of your workshop - poorly lit as it is. Your form, half-propped against the wall, sinks slowly to the marble floor beneath you.

The burning starts in your stomach. Your throat tightens, trying to hold it down as you pull your hair back. Liquid heat pools behind your eyes, in tears, as you try to pull yourself through the doorway and outside.

Falling over yourself in a clump, you begin to retch. Pained sounds leap from your maw as you vomit up an acidic, bright-white bile that burns through the ground like acid. The deafening sizzling sound, as it melts anything too unfortunate to touch it, is muted by the pain ringing in your ears.

Trying to tap in to your powers in this body always does this. Searing pain rushes down your spine and you fall to the ground, on your side, vision hazy.

You need to rest. You feel your body begin to pass out, despite your resolve to push forward. Every part of you hurts. As you begin to phase out into blissful unconsciousness, a thought crosses your mind.

Despite the blistering pain in your ears, mouth, eyes, stomach, and soul - you feel sublime.

At least one world will be a better place now, and the shivers are gone.

[etherealblasphemy]

the story that doesn’t know what genre it wants to be

my brain had an idea for a sci-fi/adventure/dystopia story, and here we are. we have the wonderful Sanders Sides in the starring roles, along with some ocs because I needed to put the name “calrex bennova” somewhere. enjoy my headcannons as offering #1 :)

The Universe:

-Made up of thousands of galaxies, what we mortals call “AUs”

-Common languages include Laolae, Kirou, Aresan, and Falafel (I was hungry writing this)

-Rumors say that there is a dangerous creature lurking in the cold depths of space, but only conspiracy theorists on message holograms would believe that...

-Strings of galaxies are often ruled under one leader, because most species are kind and have their act together unlike humans

-Speaking of humans, Earth is dead. :) there was a great meme war (haha no, it was something much more dark...)

-Logan, Roman, Patton, and Virgil are all outlaws aboard the ship Sanders Yersinia, all with prices on their heads.

Logan:

-A highly advanced prototype of AI-ingrained people. They look like people, function like people, but don’t have icky emotions get in the way of reasoning and judgement.

-Oops Logan’s creator made a mistake so Logan does have something resembling emotions.

-His original name is L.O.G.I.C., but whatever it stood for was lost to a fire, in which Logan’s creator also perished. Patton called him Logan by accident, and the name just stuck.

-He is wanted for trying to break into a laboratory to “fix” himself and reprogram himself.

-Logan is quiet and suffers from love... of learning. He unfortunately doesn’t have infinite memory, so he sometimes must delete some of his knowledge in order to acquire new information.

-He is actually connected to the Cloud, which remained after Earth screwed themselves, so he understands all human languages and also has a secret habit of going onto human websites like Tumblr and YouTube. (He enjoys book commentaries and audiobooks.)

-The most mature of the crew of Sanders Yersinia; plays adult way too often for his liking

Roman Prionsa:

-A usurped prince from the Galaxy DR-34-M (i’m not creative lololol),  on the run from the new King’s soldiers, who want to finish the job of destroying the royal family.

-The biggest idiot of the crew

-After Virgil introduced him to Disney, with the (unwilling) help of Logan, Roman won’t stop singing the songs and quoting them from heart. Virgil regrets his decision.

-He suffers from constant nightmares, in which his family is burned alive at the stake at the hands of the one who exiled him and he can do nothing but watch.

-Roman is very generous and understanding and gentle to everyone but can be extra and obnoxious with the flip of a Bitch Switch, which has landed the crew in several less-than-optimal situations.

-One time Roman tried to out-flirt a mermaid on an aquaterrestrial planet and ending up burning down a couple trees and getting his head blown up double its size by said mermaid. (“It’s finally big enough to fit your ego!” -Virgil)

-Despite his overly-dramatic “charm”, he won’t hesitate do run into battle if it means saving his crew members or innocent bystanders. He will also be extremely serious when the time calls for it.

-He occasionally wears make-up because a pRINCE HAS GOT TO SLAY

-Oh Roman also has butterfly wings he can unveil at any time and an everlasting flower crown/halo of light around his head. He was born glamorous.

Patton Hart:

-His real name is Pattryon Heartasea, but “Patton Hart” is so much easier to say (and it doesn’t autocorrect, so there’s that, too).

-He lived in a magical world called Noira, and is called a Drisine, also known as Shapeshifters.

-Patton’s “true form” is a woodland creature similar to a centaur, but galloping is not allowed in the ship, so he has to settle for running around as a human. Patton’s true form is beautiful, full of flowers and cookies and everything fluffy ever to exist. You will actually die if you look upon his true form (unless you’re a Drisine yourself) because no-one can handle something so pure.

-He has telekinesis, enhanced reflexes, and a larger spectrum of emotions.

-This makes it harder from him to articulate his feelings, leaving him feeling misunderstood and sad.

-The crew is known as the Patton Protection Squad, and will hunt down and destroy anyone who even looks at Patton wrong. They are alternatively known as the Virgil Protection Squad.

-Patton loves baking and enjoys visiting markets on whichever planet they visit to gain new recipes and is already to cook for his fellow crew mates.

-He is the closest thing the crew has to a fighter/soldier. But Patton doesn’t believe in hurting others who’re just doing what they’re told, so he refuses to fight, much to the dismay of everyone else.

-His crime is refusing to fight. Noira is very close to Roman’s home planet, and thus is also under the rule of Roman’s family. As a teenager Drisine (his seventies in human years), he refused to fight for the royal family because it was against his morals and was thusly imprisoned.

-Roman, on a tour on the castle in preparation for the day he would succeed his parents, saw Patton in a cell and immediately had him freed.

-Roman and Patton are now inseparable friends and will die for each other without hesitation.

Virgil Sorge:

-The last survivor from Earth. He witnessed its destruction and is now anxious that every little thing will destroy the last things he loves in his life.

-He was 20 when he was picked up by a alien ship surrounded by blue and red lights.

-He‘s quiet and moody and has really low alcohol tolerance, as discovered by Roman.

-One of the only things from Earth that he took with him is his hoodie, which his mother hand-knit for him for his sixteenth birthday and is basically the last thing he has to remind him of her.

-He knows every MCR, P!ATD, TOP, FOB, Green Day, Black Veil Brides, NateWantsToBattle, and Ivalo song there ever was (note: ivalo is not a real band, please don’t be confused when search results yield nothing about them).

-He’s overprotective of his crew members and is always the first one to offer medical help in any situation.

-Virgil is Logan’s apprentice. Logan knows there will be a day that he will break, so he’s training Virgil to do all of his jobs when that day comes. Virgil, of course, just thinks Logan wants to show off his knowledge, but he’ll do anything that’ll prove his worth.

-Virgil technically never committed any crime, he was just so grateful to be saved from the dying Earth that he fought alongside the crew and eventually people just decided four troublemakers in jail is better than three.

Calrex Bennova:

-My OC who I love. go and fight me. You can’t win against someone with a name this cool.

-Calrex is from a planet lost to time and space. They hardly remember anything from their past, other than screaming and their parents’ silver eyes full of tears. (Foreboding, I know. You’re welcome my brain writes nothing but angst)

-If they were human, they were be a mix between Alaskan Native American, Latinx, East Asian, and Pacific Islander. They basically look like a fusion between Yuuri Katsuki, Moana, Miguel from Coco, and an Inuit (I can’t name any Alaskan Native Americans because there’s NO REPRESENTATION in the media).

-They’re originally found by the crew in a dark back alley behind a pub called “Sleeping Stars” and are taken into the crew because 1. they’re a badass bitch and the crew needs an actual fighter and 2. they have some pretty rough injuries.

-When they wake up, they freak because why are they in a spaceship? and why is someone watching them as if they care? and if they don’t want to claim the bounty on their head, and they don’t want their body, what the fUCK DO THEY WANT? FRIENDSHIP?

-Cal is known intergalatically as “The Pirate” because they have a history of petty offenses. Oh, and they also are rumored to have wiped out an entire galaxy without mercy. But even Cal doesn’t remember that, so...

-They always wear combat boots. Always. Even to bed.

-Their first night in the ship, they refuse to sleep with everyone else in the Dorms, so they sleep in the Control Center on the floor. But a mysterious member of the crew brings a sleeping Cal a blanket and a pillow :) kindness still exists, happily

Thomas:

-The Sanders Yersinia’s A.I.

-Loves making puns, overanalyzing every possible outcome of every possible situations, informing their passengers of useful information at the worst possible moment, and playing Disney songs to wake Roman up from his beauty sleep.

-Logan even designed an avatar for Thomas that appears on the screen, though only his waist above is ever shown.

-He can never be sad. Ever. You are doomed to always have an optimist’s perspective at the worst of moments.

woooo I think this is long enough for now. AnYwHo, I hope you enjoyed reading my first attempt at creating an AU; hopefully I didn’t bore you all to death. Apparently some of you all actually wanted this, so here’s my first attempt at a tag list (so many firsts aaaaaahhhhhh...)

@asofterfan

@alix-the-skeleton

@hufflepuffsscrewdriver

@v-blue-writer

thank you all for wanting this and actually motivating me to write something :)

[hairterminator]

http://blog.hair-terminator.com/charming-outlook/

A Complete Guide To Buying Clothes Online (Without Regretting It)

#England #http://blog.hair-terminator.com Turns out the Internet is useful for a lot more than toppling corrupt governments and/or looking at pictures of partially (or fully) nude celebrities. Particularly when it comes to matters concerning your wardrobe. Thanks to advances in technology and

#England #http://blog.hair-terminator.com Turns out the Internet is useful for a lot more than toppling corrupt governments and/or looking at pictures of partially (or fully) nude celebrities. Particularly when it comes to matters concerning your wardrobe. Thanks to advances in technology and logistics (think drones), these days you can go from “I have nothing to wear” to “check out my new sneakers” in a matter of hours given a few clicks and finger swipes in the right direction. However, access doesn’t always correlate with quality; the vagaries of fit and cunning clothes photography make those over-generous store mirrors seem benign. Yes, buying clothes online may come with its potential pitfalls, but provided you bear these pointers in mind, you’ll be spared a life of filling out returns forms and long post office queues.

What Not To Buy

Certain things lend themselves to being bought online. Once you know your size (and we’d hope you do by now), staples like socks and underwear don’t pose the same issues of fit that, say, a £3,000 wool-cashmere blend overcoat does. Nor do you necessarily need to handle the goods before buying. Tailoring, though, is trickier. After all, buying a suit is all about fit. A cheaper suit that hugs your shoulders and chest will always look better than an expensive one that pools around your ankles or has sleeves that finish halfway up your forearm. (Related: Ways To Make A Budget Suit Look Expensive) Yes, certain things can be adjusted, but if you steer wrong in the shoulders or thighs then no Milanese needle wizard is going to be able to help you. When an inch makes all the difference, even the most comprehensive online size guide just won’t cut it. There are really only two occasions on which you should buy tailoring online:

When you’re replacing a piece (from the same brand) you already own and know fits well.

When you’ve already tried something on in store and have scouted out a better digital deal or got hold of an online discount code.

Otherwise, even if you find that perfect double-breasted blazer you’ve been lusting after since seeing it at Pitti, save yourself some serious hassle and click elsewhere.

Make Sure It Fits

Remember that tailor who couldn’t fix your beyond-help baggy suit? Get back to him for some proper measurements: height, waist, inseam, chest, sleeve length and neck size are the minimum you’ll want to note down. Store them on your phone, tablet and laptop (as well as in your head) so they’re to hand whenever you’re browsing the sales on your commute or flicking through new the arrivals before bed.

Measure Your Own Clothes

As well as your own measurements, you should also take the tape to your favourite pieces in your existing wardrobe too. Lay that perfect-fitting sweatshirt flat and measure it across the chest (between the bottom of each arm seam, then double it), shoulder (seam to seam straight across), back (base of the collar to the hem) and sleeves (cuff to shoulder seam plus seam to centre of the collar label). Compare this blueprint to online size guides to quickly work out if what you’re currently eyeing up is going to come up too snug in the shoulders, even if it fits everywhere else.

Body Changes

You also need to be aware that your body can change during the year. The January sales may scream offers at you, but post-Christmas you may be carrying an extra few pounds. Equally, kudos on hitting the gym, but those broader shoulders and that narrower waist are bound to alter the way clothes fit and hang. (Related: What To Wear When Your Workouts Start Working) In order to prevent these fluctuations from messing up your fit, treat your tailor like your doctor and go back every six months for a measurements check-up or use a flexible tape measure at home to make sure you don’t size up widely different to what you already have written down.

Store Size Guides

Every time you see something you like, locate the store’s size guide and compare with your crib sheet. It would make sense if every retailer and brand followed the same measurements for small, medium and large, but unfortunately the game doesn’t work like that. Use your Goldilocks guide to find out whether that T-shirt is going to come up tent-like, hot washed or just right. Several high-end stores like Mr Porter hand-measure every item and provide extra detail like back length for jackets, while others will give guidance on whether to buy a size up or down from your usual in the product description.

Make Sure It Looks As Good On You

A denim jacket on a rail looks like, well, a jacket. Stick it on a slim, six-foot model and team it with the perfect pair of tailored trousers and a cashmere roll neck, and it becomes art. If you don’t have the same physique or wardrobe, then don’t expect to emulate that masterpiece at home. It doesn’t help that stylists have a weapon that you can’t realistically deploy: the bulldog clip. Using this handy device, excess fabric is pulled back and clipped tight, giving a sleeker silhouette – it’s how models you see in magazines can step into clothes that aren’t tailored and make them look like they’re bespoke. (Related: 10 Style Hacks From The UK’s Best Stylists)

The lesson here is that you can’t always trust model shots or lookbooks. Treat them as guides to styling rather than fit. If you have a similar jacket and shoes to the guy in the picture, then you know that pair of houndstooth trousers will work with at least one look. On the other hand, if you’re tempted by a pair of leather trousers and your wardrobe is more button-downs and blazers than the mesh tops and longline shirts sported in the picture, then it’s probably best to pass. Top Tip: If the retailer offers a video of the item being worn, always view it – you will get a much better idea of how the garment fits, drapes and moves, as well as a truer indication of colour.

Where To Buy

With space not an issue, online retailers don’t have to be as focused in their product ranges as brick and mortar stores. That’s not to say they don’t specialise or have stronger offerings in certain areas, though. Most also provide free returns and a flat postage fee, no matter how much you order. So if you can’t afford for your purchase not to be perfect and have no time to re-order another, an easy way around this is to stock up your basket with three sizes of each item: the one you think is right, then one up and one down. By bracketing in this way, you increase your chances of finding the perfect fit and can return the ones that don’t work. Just take care when un-boxing and trying on – removing certain tags or tearing packaging can void your right to return. Without wanting to sound too much like Martin Lewis, it’s important you brush up on your rights as a consumer, specifically when it comes to purchasing online.

Store: End Clothing

Best For: Sneakerheads What Is It?: Men have been beating a path to this Newcastle independent since 2005, and more recently its newly opened Glasgow flagship since late 2016. However, it’s End Clothing’s online offering that has made it a destination for sneakerheads from all over the globe. Alongside an achingly cool edit of clothing and accessories, End offers exclusive trainer styles and unique collaborations with the likes of Nike, Adidas, Reebok and New Balance. Price: Mid-range Web: www.endclothing.com

Store: Mr Porter

Best For: Capsule collections and luxury brands What Is It?: Net-a-Porter’s Y-chromosomed offshoot is big on tailoring (it has been selling its in house line, Kingsman, since 2015) but as we’ve warned you, that’s a risky game. Still, Mr Porter’s range of collaborations is unrivalled, with designers from Ami’s Alexandre Mattiussi to Paul Smith and even Thom Browne crafting one-off capsule collections you can’t buy anywhere else. Price: Luxury Web: www.mrporter.com

Store: ASOS

Best For: Basics and wardrobe staples What Is It?: With over 850 brands onsite, and an Amazon-rivalling fulfilment centre staffed by thousands of employees, finding clothes on ASOS can be a touch intimidating. But it’s a sign of how influential the retailer has become that an entire subculture of young men wearing longline tops, ripped skinny jeans and snapbacks can be traced to its model shots. Avoid joining them by picking up classic wardrobe staples like white T-shirts, Oxford shirts and underwear, rather than whole looks – even if it is tempting when you can get an entire outfit for less than £50. Price: Affordable, with a smattering of designer brands Web: www.asos.com

Store: Hypebeast

Best For: Streetwear What Is It?: Hypebeast has been keeping the streetwear savvy in the know with upcoming drops for several years now. However, not many realise the site also has its own online store, which boasts an almost unrivalled line-up of mainstream and underground labels. So while others cue round the blocks to get their hands on the latest must-cops, the smart shopper camps out in front of his computer. Though try to avoid anything labelled ‘marketplace’, which is basically code for astronomical mark-up. Price: Luxury, with some more affordable finds mixed in Web: hbx.com

Store: Farfetch

Best For: One-offs What Is It?: Farfetch isn’t so much a store as a concierge. As the name hints, rather than stocking and dispatching clothes themselves, they tap up an array of international independent boutiques so that, sat at home in Bognor, you can shop the best that Milan, New York and even Tokyo have to offer. Prices are understandably high, but you’ve got a good chance of stumbling across something truly one of a kind – perfect for individualising your looks. Price: Luxury Web: www.farfetch.com

Store: Vestiaire Collective

Best For: Second-hand finds What Is It: If a hefty price tag puts you off buying designer pieces, it might be time to acquaint yourself with designer re-sale site Vestiaire Collective. The eBay of the luxury world has made it easier than ever to get your hands on that piece that eluded you (and your bank balance) last season. This is no car boot sale, mind. Expect more than 600,000 items, each of which has been manually checked for quality and authenticity, from the likes of Comme des Garçons, Acne Studios and Saint Laurent. Price: Varies Web: www.vestiairecollective.com

Store: Yoox

Best For: Bargain hunting What Is It?: Navigating Yoox is like stepping into the warehouse at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. A nightmare to navigate and rammed with brands you’ve never heard of, and some you will never want to hear of again, you’ll be just about to give up when you spot a Moncler parka at 80 per cent off. Which almost makes all the legwork worth it. Price: Every budget Web: www.yoox.com

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