#Haircut Institute

[mdilip948]

VLCC HAIR  Institute provides short to advance hair  courses for beginners also as professionals in Hair Dressing and Hair Styling Techniques. Career Opportunity: On successful completion actually in Hair Technology ,hair Course qualified candidates can work as Hair Stylists, Freelancers, Faculties, Technical Trainers, Salon Owners or in Media Houses. VLCC Institute course in Hair Technology is devoted for beginners where we teach standard techniques employed by trained faculties, supplying you with the time and space to actually perfect lines, graduation, layering and their combinations. Salon Ethics, Different Techniques of Coloring, Hair Cutting, Chemical Treatments, Hair Extension and Latest Up Styles are added together during this course. This course lays the inspiration for enhancing your skills and knowledge, by providing you with hands-on practical work experience and detailed tutorials from highly qualified instructors. Choosing this course will provide you with the arrogance to expand your collection and develop your talent.

[recurring-polynya]

Re: the tags on Sensing Rukia Fighting Aaroniero: Renji the Designated Squad 11 Radio Antenna. It's the hair spikes they help him hear better. Yumichika's antenna are the hair/eyelash accessories. Zaraki doesn't count bc his own electromagnetic reiatsu aura drowns out everything else and this is also why he's always shouting. Welcome to Shitpost Worldbuilding Wednesday With Lexi.

Whether or not this is actually true, I like to believe that this is the commonly held belief at Squad 11 (at least among those who are capable of paying attention through a six-syllable word like 'electromagnetic.') Look at Madarame. His bald ass ain't sensing shit.

Mostly, though, I am enjoying thinking about Renji explaining this to the Nerd Squad at the bar. He is a) quite drunk and b) very earnest, but also, c) a known troll and retired professional liar. No one can tell if he believes this or if he's trying to have one over one him (where "the one" is that he believes this bullshit). This is happening during the 17-mo timeskip, so Momo is substantially recovered, but also drunker than she probably should be, and is also constantly Taking Up Projects. Looking around the table, she realizes that she has the makings of a very good Scientific Experiment.

Over the next three weeks, she calls the three of them up at random times and asks them to tell her where she is, or where some randomly designated person is ("Captain Hitsugaya? He's in his office. He's *always* in his office.") She keeps a big notebook, recording their accuracy.

Unfortunately for science, while they're all roughly equal, Renji is a little better at sensing reiatsu than Shuuhei, who is in turn, a little bit better than Izuru.

Renji is insufferable. Izuru is livid. Shuuhei decides to join the "insufferable" side, because he thought he was going to come in third and is very excited about coming in second.

Shinji spends an hour on the phone trying to convince Hiyori to repeat the experiment in the Living World with Love and Hachi ("You used to be a scientist! Don't you miss doing a science?" "Absolutely not.")

Momo writes a white paper and makes a nice poster, which she presents to the SWA. Nemu rates her a "good methodology and interesting results" and asks if she can have a copy to share around at Squad 12. The Twelfth has a lot of machines for enhancing reiatsu sensing, she says, but no one has really done a deep dive into wearable solutions, because they all hate "going outdoors" and "doing things."

Akon shows up to next Tuesday's booze night because he's decided to try integrating some micro-antennae into his horns. Izuru swears he will murder all of them.

Anyway, as far as we know, we've never been given any sort of explanation as to why Momo cut her hair short during the timeskip, but there's no way to disprove that she did it so that she could gel it into an sick prototype reiatsu-sensing faux-hawk (for science!)

[williammarksommer]

Window Haircut 

California

All The Time In The World

Hasselblad 500c/m

Kodak Ektar 100iso

[co27]

ok im thinking about the magnus archives. i just think people didnt care enough about the fact that tim stoker is a fucking nerd

[johnbrand]

The New Fad

It was strange how this seemingly irresistible fad suddenly swept in. I took a sip of my coffee, noticing how every man appeared to be identically dressed from my chair outside the cafe. The city was filled with men in suits. On the clock, off the clock, even if their workplace required them to wear a different uniform, the second their hours where up a 3-piece would be resituated onto the body. 

This change had been so quick too. Brooks Brothers replacing Nike, businessmen replacing athletes.  At first it seemed like nothing, but soon people I knew started jumping on board too. One was once the most raggedy of counterculture punks, but the next time I saw him he had come from the barbershop with his spiked, flamboyant hawk mowed down into a tame, respectable cut. Two more of my friends were a colorful, progressive couple, yet I later found out through their social media they had split to focus on their “domestic financial endeavors.” They had taken up investments and accounting since.

I did not see the appeal in this rigid conformity, this sweeping mentality to return to tradition. It was simply too drab, too starchy. This new trend meant every man was perfectly groomed, stiffly suited, and promptly coordinated towards his career. And with this came the resurgence of other forgotten subcultures: the craving to marry a homebound woman, the chance to create numerous offspring, the promise of a nuclear family. As a gay male who considered business casual as the only form of formality, none of this interested me.

With a sigh, I took another sip of my coffee, readjusting the sleeves of my hoodie before grabbing my phone. A new software update had installed, boasting upgraded accuracy in facial recognition. Raising the screen to unlock the device, I dreamily absorbed the beguiling swirl of colors and patterns. The phone was thinking, recognizing my identity.

<ah…a lot of work to do here. lets see…gotta add some layers…no more hoodies or leisurely clothes for you. only formal articles. that collar should be stiff, and lets get you in a charcoal tie to match that dark standard suit. so much better.  dont you agree? just nod your head, thats a good boy. you dont want that shaggy beard or unkempt hair. no no, a good handful of texturing fiber will keep you with a solid, unwaveringly tall quiff. this is your new haircut, and that stubble will need to be maintained every day, got that? yes, you are a good boy, a good preppy boy.> <no no, just keep staring into the phone. you’re going to be clean and suited now, forever. returning to tradition, how men were always meant to be. and doesnt it feel right? dont you feel like youve come home? youve never felt so comfortable in your skin, so comfortable in your clothes. confident, conservative, and able to admit what you are. you are a preppy boy now. that sounds a little strange, right? thats ok, say it with me. preppy boy, I am a preppy boy. strange…but good, right? say it one more time. some may say youre a bit old-fashioned, but we both know why something becomes traditional–because it has always worked. nod your head slowly with me. it’s too hard to do anything but agree with me, right?> <now, the update is almost done, so let me just add in a few more quick things. lets see…fixation to the haberdashery…commitment to formality…dependence on the institution. what else am I missing…hmmm…are you a homosexual? no no, thats not going to work. good preppy boys are straight. nod with me, yes. desire of offspring…familial responsibility…an itch that can only be comforted by the omnipresent cinch of a fastidiously knotted tie. ah, it seems my time is up. just remember, your only aspiration in life is to be a good preppy boy. nod for me if you understand. thats a good preppy boy.>

Unable to recall what I was doing, I tucked my phone back into the seat pocket of my pressed trousers. I sipped once more at my coffee and took in the impeccable Financial District around me. All the men in suits, one could practically smell the crisp clean bills in their pockets. Back and forth from two destinations, the office with the other businessmen or the home with the wife and kids. Pulling up the sleeve of my suit jacket, my expensive watch informed me it was my time for the first. And once the hours were put in, I could return home to my own woman before beginning the cycle again.

[timbit-robin-art]

I watched X-Men Evolution after you recommended it (and a lil bit just for Gambito) and just finished it, wow what a good show!! I love the new dynamics of the characters a lot with the new ages. Reluctant dad Wolverine is so much better than normal Wolverine. Great Gambit of course, seeing him as a straight-up villain henchmen makes him much scarier, but still silly of course (what a haircut...)

I was also surprised by how much I liked the Brotherhood boys, especially Lance/Avalanche. I do love a nasty boy with a heart of gold. I'd love to see him in your style if you want.

Thanks for the recommendation all around! This will be a show I'm rewatching in the future for sure :]

Yesssssss… yesssssssss… the Evolution cult grows with each day.

I’m so glad I could be your introduction to it. It’s a very good, and I could honestly sit here and talk for ages about it. I love when shows based on comic books aren’t a perfect one-to-one recreation of the comics.

Ah, this Wolverine is my favorite Wolverine. Having him be one of the adults was a good decision. I hate it when he’s being weird about Jean and Scott. And this Gambit is such a gigachad. They had to give him a bowlcut to cap his raw power. It would be too much for us.

In terms of writing, Lance is definitely a favorite of mine. I think he compliments Scott very well, with how they’re both leaders and basically the team older brothers. It makes me wonder if there’s a universe out there where Xavier found Lance first, leaving Scott to fall into the hands of Mystique. Maybe we’d see a version of Lance who was given an actual chance (heh, rhymed), and a version of Evo Scott who never was.

I said in an Instagram comment that this version of Scott is a more hopeful Scott, so it would be interesting to see how he would fit in with the Brotherhood. And on the flip side, I think it would be interesting to see Lance slowly become the hero he truly is at heart. He would obviously be very stubborn about it, as he’s more cynical than Scott is, but as more mutants move into the Institute, I think it’ll only be a matter of time before the big brother instincts activate.

[i-have-not-slept]

Teeny fic based on Cassie’s latest newsletter (aka the Hair Memo)

✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️✂️

“Alec, please. Just one little haircut.”

Alec looked up from the stack of Clave reports he was reading through, frowning at Magnus. “I don’t see why it matters.”

Magnus crossed his arms over his chest. “It matters because this morning your annoying blond brother sent a memo to the Head of every Institute claiming that your hair looks, quote, ‘like he cuts it in the dark with nail scissors.’”

“I told Jace not to send that stupid memo.” Alec grumbled. “It looks unprofessional.” He tapped the stack of reports in front of him. “Half of these are complaints about it.”

“Nevertheless, his point still stands.” Magnus persisted. “You should really let me cut your hair.”

Alec still looked dubious, and Magnus hastened to reassure him. “No dye. No gel. No glitter. Just a little trim.” He ran a hand through Alec’s hair, ruffling it up, and Alec leaned into him, closing his eyes. He could feel Alec relax, the tension slipping from his shoulders as Magnus played with his hair.

Without opening his eyes, Alec murmured, “Okay.”

“Really?” Magnus said in surprise. “You mean it?”

Alec cracked open one eye to look at him. “I do.” He reached out to pull Magnus into his lap, helping him get settled so his legs were draped over Alec’s thighs. “But nothing crazy, okay? I’m leaving the dye to you.”

“And Simon.” Magnus said.

Alec laughed. “And Simon.”

He stroked a hand through Magnus’s hair, twirling the strands between his fingers. Gold streaks ran through the black, with blue at the tips. Magnus tended to change his hair often, but he’d had this particular look for a while now. Since their wedding a few months ago, in fact. Alec liked it more than any other of Magnus’s hairstyles.

“Anyway,” Alec murmured. “Jace’s judgment is obviously skewed. Your hair is a million times better than his.”

Magnus laughed, bright and happy, and leaned in for a kiss. He sank his hands into Alec’s hair again, pulling him in, and Alec went willingly, smiling against Magnus’s lips.

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

If there’s one thing Casey McQuiston can do is write extra, post-canon, chapters

“God, she's happy. The weather is glorious, people are good, her motorcycle is sexy. It's one of those days when she is just explosively thankful to be alive and in love and gay in New York City.”

“Jane likes Wes a lot. He reminds her of the moody Bushwick boys she used to see at the quieter bars, the ones who only smoked cloves and complained they' d been born a few years too late to be a beatnik. It's the scowl, she thinks, and the air of perpetual malaise. And the mysterious gift for landing the hottest drag queens in the scene.”

“Jane has known she liked girls for a long, long time. Even when she forgot everything else about herself, she remembered English, Cantonese, and being a lesbian. It's never been worth fighting, not for anyone else's sake, but she did sometimes wish things were different. When she watched her dad trudge up the stairs at the end of a long day and into her mom's arms, she'd wished it was posible for her to know that feeling one day, to have a good woman waiting at home.

August is a good woman.”

“She'd always felt happiest and most loved when she was part of something bigger,”

“That night was the first time she ever slept with a woman. She remembers how revelatory it felt, like searching for a word in one language and realizing it only exists in another. Like her whole life she’d had this perfect thing inside her, this thing that had an exact purpose, that would make sense of everything, and she'd been looking for it wrong until that moment.

She wrote: I was on top of her, figuring out how many ways I could make her feel good, and I thought, "I like girls," which is pretty fucking far from groundbreaking for me, but my next thought was, "I love liking girls," and that was a thought i've never had before. I might have fallen a little bit in love with Ann then, the way I think you should fall in love with your first for at least one night. But I completely and permanently fell in love with the way it feels to make love to a woman.”

“The broader she tries to go, the less it's going to feel true. All these small, specific moments, this patchwork of a million faces and voices and hands and street corners and plates of food and songs and fleeting connections—she keeps trying to zoom out of them, but that's where she loses the details. Love is the meal, and love is the ingredients, and love is the whisk and the fire and the order in the window and the reason it came. She can't separate any part from the whole.”

“Life in the future isn't perfect by a longshot, especially not for people like her. There's so much that's still wrong with the world and so many reasons to look over her shoulder every time she walks down the street. But tonight, she's thankful for this. The scrabble forward, the good changes, and always, even now, a basement full of people who'll take her as she came.”

“But the longer she knew August, the longer she loved her, the more she understoad why those girls could never have been for her. Every one of them had only a piece of what she was looking for. A surly disposition here, a pair of glasses there—every girl she’d ever loved for a night or a week or a month had a shadow of August in her.”

“I was standing on a street that felt like home, she wrote, but I didn't have to hide my haircut or change my clothes to save my family from the gossip. It didn’t even matter if any of those aunties had something to say about me. Mom would never know. I loved it.”

“She wants to have the right words, the right attitude, the right gravity to be worthy of what people see in her, but some days she just wants to pick a stupid fight in the grocery store, and some days she wants to do nothing but learn to make a chocolate tart. She's only ever been one person doing what she had to do to survive. Just Biyu, just Jane.”

“Before the Q, Jane never thought she'd be part of any institution recognized by the state, least of all a wedding. Sure, she attended commitment ceremonies in basements and backyards, manned the patio grill while two boys from down the street slow danced under a magnolia tree and the washed-up hippie officiant burned incense to bless their union. Every time, the experience sang hot and sweet in her veins for days after, the way defiant acts of love between her friends always did. But every time, something told her this would never be hers. Probably, she figured, because she never allowed herself to stay with the same girl for more than a month.”

"You started saving for a ring—?"

"Right after I moved in, yeah.”

"If you ask Myla to explain electrical energy." Jane says, winking at the gleam that appears in Myla's eye, "the first thing she'll tell you is that it can't be created or destroyed. Love is like that too. It can be reshaped a million different ways. It can be as big and as impossible to understand as the universe, and it can be as simple as sitting on the other end of the same telephone line, not even saying anything. But in my experience, it'll never be small, and it'll never be short, and it sure as hell won't ever leave you. All it does is find a new place inside you to live, or a new channel to broadcast out of you. It carries you out when the house is falling down. It's the reason why anything good happens, and it's all those good things put together, the picture they make when you step back and really look. Love makes sense of everything. Love makes you real.”

[sarcasticscribbles]

Hello, TimSasha person, I was wondering if you had any thoughts about how Sasha learns about Danny.

I may have a little theory:

Slowly and gradually.

Tim has his walls up when it comes to Danny. He began working in research just a few months after Danny's death, determined to use the Institute's resources to investigate Danny's case while maintaining a facade for his coworkers. I think Tim wanted to keep to himself, but he's very bad at it; he is naturally drawn to people and thrives in company. He fits seamlessly into crowds and can put on whatever mask the people around him are comfortable with. I think Jon was his first victim. Since Jon lost his grandma a year prior, there was a mutual understanding.

Tim kept his research to himself, but as the months went by, he never found out what he was even looking for.

He met Sasha a few months after starting. They had drinks after work with coworkers, eventually ending up alone at the pub. Sasha wasn’t working in Artefact any more, but she shared stories that piqued Tim’s interest. She couldn’t give him access to the Storage, but she was fun to be around and knew a lot about the Institute. Sasha believes everyone’s here for a fucked-up reason, and that they wouldn’t work with horrific and paranormal research if they weren’t already familiar with it. She knows everyone’s wearing a mask, and she doesn’t blame them, as that’s what we as humans are taught to do to avoid isolation.

She knows he’s doing some independent research, but he denies it when she asks. Sasha first comes across Danny after finding a silly picture of Tim and him at a bar and joking about Tim’s outdated haircut. She asks, “You never told me that you have a brother,” and Tim stiffly corrects her with “had.” Sasha drops the subject after a silent apology.

When nearly a year has passed since the incident, he gets more fixated on his research, staying late and shutting people out. Sasha tries to help, but she doesn’t know what he’s looking for. He forgets one folder, and Sasha picks it up to give it back while Tim’s anxiously looking for it. “Who’s Danny?” she asks, as it’s the name written on top of the folder. He admits it’s his brother and goes back behind his walls to continue his research. Sasha doesn’t push, but she’s naturally curious. She sticks by him, since Tim thrives in company.

Eventually, it’s the anniversary of Danny’s death, and Tim has almost worked a year at the Institute with no progress at all. He wonders why he is even here; if he had just stayed with Danny in the living room that night, or stopped him from going to Covent Garden Theatre alone, or told him how stupid of a hobby urban exploration was-!

 Not that Danny ever listened to him anyway, but all the “what if’s” haunt him to no end.

Sasha finds him in the library; they are about to lock up, and they should probably leave. Tim can’t return home, even if he threw out the armchair he found Danny in, the empty spot in the living room is too much for him at the moment. She doesn’t understand, but offers her place if he needs somewhere else to go. She knows: 1) everyone’s here because of a fucked-up reason, 2) Tim had a brother, 3) his name was Danny, and 4) now he’s here.

She packs up his papers, folders, and books, respecting his boundaries by not looking through them. Tim is an empty shell of a man and doesn’t note the period between the Institute and Sasha’s couch. She doesn’t ask which Tim appreciates. She makes them tea and stays with him, talking about nothing until silence comforts them, and it’s not until the next day that Tim opens up to her.

Although it’s a strange story to tell and harder to believe, Sasha listens. She doesn’t understand it all, but she doesn’t have to. She believes him; why else would he work at The Magnus Institute?

[oliversrarebooks]

ASMR vibes in whump

My absolute favorite thing, I love it when whump is both soothing and terrifying. The vibe of when you're safely curled up in bed imagining you're actually horribly injured and trapped in a cave during a snowstorm. The anxiety of being at the dentist's office and not knowing what will happen but then they're actually really gentle and nice

the sound of footsteps on floors. caretaker? whumper? are they light and hesitant? stompy and imposing? the steady click-click-click of a confident person in hells?

the intimacy of getting a haircut or being made up against your will

whumper displaying all of their favorite tools of the trade and explaining what will happen to you in the calmest voice

the soft beeping and distant voices you hear in a hospital room, waking up out of anesthesia, everything still so fuzzy

wounds being cleaned and bandaged

whumpee being carefully dressed for a social event where they must behave for their whumper

the soft swing and tick-tick-tick of a pocketwatch as whumpee is hypnotized

symbols drawn on the whumpee's body, herbs sprinkled over them and incoherent mumbles as the whumpee is made part of a ritual or bound with a magic spell

strapped to an operating table and carefully examined and tested, with the scratch-scratch of the whumper's pen as they write notes in your chart

the smell and sight of the institutional meals being served to whumpee while they're trapped in a facility

So many sensory indulgences, so many ways to blend fear and comfort.

[mdilip948]

VLCC HAIR  Institute provides short to advance hair  courses for beginners also as professionals in Hair Dressing and Hair Styling Techniques. Career Opportunity: On successful completion actually in Hair Technology ,hair Course qualified candidates can work as Hair Stylists, Freelancers, Faculties, Technical Trainers, Salon Owners or in Media Houses. VLCC Institute course in Hair Technology is devoted for beginners where we teach standard techniques employed by trained faculties, supplying you with the time and space to actually perfect lines, graduation, layering and their combinations. Salon Ethics, Different Techniques of Coloring, Hair Cutting, Chemical Treatments, Hair Extension and Latest Up Styles are added together during this course. This course lays the inspiration for enhancing your skills and knowledge, by providing you with hands-on practical work experience and detailed tutorials from highly qualified instructors. Choosing this course will provide you with the arrogance to expand your collection and develop your talent.

[gococogo]

Pitch Black Dahlias | PT. 1 | PT.2

Synopsis: The news had taken everyone by shock. The Minutemen had been the one to take down the Institute. It's evil being rid of the Commonwealth once and for all.

But that doesn't mean that Nate's work is over. There is a still a lot to. And that includes helping Danse with his current dilemma of finding out who he truly is. And the pre-war man thinks bringing Danse along on some Railroad jobs will help out.

Hopefully.

Word Count: 2.2K

Pairing: Paladin Danse x Nate (Male Sole Survivor)

Warnings: Slow Burn. Trauma. Eventual Smut.

The only times Danse has had the time to visit to Diamond City, it’s all been for Nate. He sees no need to come to this part of the Commonwealth by himself. Yes, he has travelled and scouted around Diamond City when he was stationed at the Cambridge Station. But even those little expeditions were dangerous at that point of time. Those memories still spark a pang of hurt deep within his chest.

He pushes it aside as he walks down the stairs to the Diamond City centre. He hasn’t seen Nate in two weeks. A whole two weeks since they infiltrated the Institute together with the Minutemen and destroyed the evil from the Commonwealth.

He was more than honoured to do so when Nate had asked him to be by his side. It had given him something to shoot at and fight for.

A part of him only hoped that it would have been the Brotherhood to participate in such a role. But Danse couldn’t argue with Nate when he was set in his ways. His mind was made up ages ago. The whole ordeal out of the Listening Post was probably what tipped him over the edge. It always something that Danse stills ponders on. Still thinking that that day was his last.

But he’s still here, alive, as a synth can get, and standing naked in Diamond City. Not naked per say, but he feels like it.

He’s come without his power armour at Nate’s request. He felt more at home inside of one. But the fact that Nate had asked him to come without one? It made him feel weary travelling from the Castle to Diamond City without it. But he trusts Nate’s judgement even if it might be questionable at times.

Like standing still while aiming down his scope as a super mutant suicider came barrelling his way. Danse was still his sponsor back then and hounded into Nate for being so stupid. He left it out of the report, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing he did for the Brotherhood matters.

He pulls his bomber jacket closer around his chest, the late autumn breeze cold today. He ventures through the market to Nate’s residents at the Home Plate, ignoring the multiple people calling his way trying to upsell their products. He doesn’t need a haircut, or some ammo, or a… swatter? He eyes the red faced man before continuing on.

Anyways.

Danse gives three sharp knocks on the door and takes a step away. He eyes the empty power armour rack, wondering where Nate has kept his T-45. It wasn’t at the Castle, he just came from there. Maybe he’s left it up at the Red Rocket with his wide collection of power armours. He waits a few minutes before knocking again. He doesn’t want to intrude even though he knows Nate wouldn’t care. It’s more out of respect than anything.

“Danse.”

Slowly -at the sound of the very unique voice-, the ex-Paladin turns to meet the synth detective with a frown. Valentine narrows his gaze to him with a raised brow.

“Valentine,” he responds back blandly.

“Glad to see you out and about after everything,” the detective says with as much sarcasm as possible.

“Where’s Nate?” Danse gets to the point, his tone blunt and firm.

But Valentine doesn’t faulter to the demand. His stark yellow eyes flickers behind the former soldier before back at him. “He’s this way,” he says instead with a small wave of his hand.

Danse hesitates for a moment, glancing to the door before reluctantly following after Valentine. He’s well aware that his hate towards the synth is something that’s hypocritical. Yet there’s something so intertwined in Danse’s heart that he hasn’t been able to rid himself of yet. Could be the same reason why he was so ready to die by Nate’s hands. Dropped to his knees and begged that he needed to be the example, not the exception.

Yet Nate had still dragged him from his knees and pleaded. Showed him mercy that Danse didn’t deserve. The ex-Paladin doesn’t think he deserved it. He’s heard from others that Nate has a bleeding heart and Danse wouldn’t be the one to object to those claims. Sometimes it’s a dangerous thing. Getting them into more trouble at times.

The two don’t get far. Valentine stops just outside the chems store and points a skinny, metal finger upwards. Danse looks up without a word and doesn’t see it at first, but when he does he can’t help but stare.

There’s a small, makeshift balcony atop of Nate’s residents, one that overlooks the city. A grand view of the place. It’s a lovely little spot that Nate paid a pretty cap for. But there in his little red throne -a single seater couch- with his head lolled onto his chest, is Nate fast asleep. His hands are overlapped on his torso with his legs outstretched. He reminds Danse of one of those older settlers at Sanctuary that can be seen napping the day away. Every, single, day.

“How long has he been up there?” Danse asks casually. His shoulders have relaxed and his head is slightly cocked to the side like a dog.

“Around three hours now,” Valentine answers with a chuckle. “As far as I know from Piper they came back from the Railroad. They’ve been keeping him on his toes lately trying to help the synths you and him helped out.”

Danse swallows thickly. “It was all him.”

“Whatever you say, big guy,” Valentine speaks softly. “But at least give yourself some credit.”

There’s no response to that and the synth detective hums at that.

“Is that why I haven’t seen high or nigh of you lately? Didn’t want to deal with other synths?” Valentine asks, jabbing at this point.

Danse swallows thickly and changes the subject. “Why was Piper with him?”

Valentine lightly rolls his eyes and looks back up Nate. “She wanted a story. The aftermath of the Institute and what nots. Don’t know how good it’ll be with the Railroad wanting to stay hidden and all.”

“Does it matter anymore with the Institute gone?” Danse asks a genuine question.

It takes Valentine back a bit, the question actually making him wonder. “To some degree, yeah. There’s still synths out there that believe in what the Institute was doing.” The detective pauses for a moment, staring at the soldier. “You’d know that if you didn’t go off hiding away. Nate needs you right now more than ever.”

Danse swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I’ll wake him,” is all he murmurs before walking off.

He brings the spare keys to Home Plate out of his jacket pocket and unlocks the door. He wouldn’t normally let himself in, despite Nate having told him in the past that this place is more welcome to call home than anywhere else. Like the Castle and Sanctuary.

“It’s ours,” he has said once. It sounds weird on his mind as it did hearing it the first time from Nate’s mouth.

Yet whenever Danse is at those settlements as well, he feels more of the need to keep on his toes and work. Make sure that everything is in order, checking the defence systems more moving onto the water supplies, then onto the generators. Keeping his mind and body preoccupied so that he doesn’t have to think of other pressing matters. Just like the Brotherhood had ironed into him.

But Home Plate, it’s probably the only place that Danse has ever felt relaxed. The noise that seeps in through the thin walls of the place reminds him all too well of the Prydwyn, an all too welcoming murmur of noise. Theres no checklists at Home Plate. Only the mundane need to keep the place tidy of dust and other critters that decide to make themselves home.

Danse is quick to take himself up the stairs to the balcony. He opens the door as quietly as he can, peering around the corner to where Nate still sleeps peacefully on the couch. The ex-Paladin can’t help but watch for a moment with his brown eyes. The usual frown that has somehow become a permanent thing on Nate’s face has now smoothed out.  

With a quick glance out below, Valentine is nowhere to be seen and the people of Diamond City pay them no mind. One other thing that was ironed into Danse was their concept on attraction. A Paladin had to be at his best at all times. And that meant to having someone you love dearly being on your mind. The quality and the care for a Paladin’s garrison was all that Danse was able to think about.

Yes, he had come to a point in his sponsorship with Nate that his brewing feelings could mean something much more. Seeing someone being able to hold their own and being able to lead. It had wanted Danse to know more about Nate and who he was before the war. What things were like back then.

Slowly, Danse kneels down to one knee next to Nate’s outstretched legs. He brings a hand up gently and caresses the sleeping man’s face who stirs. Nate inhales deeply as his dark blue eyes blink awake through a squinted, peeping gaze. He looks to Danse with a bleary expression before a warm smile comes to his lips. He leans into the rough hand on his face, cupping it with his own. He turns his face into Danse’s palm and gives it a light kiss, his movements still filled with the grogginess of sleep.

“I think I may still be dreaming,” Nates murmurs groggily.

Danse stands up and places a kiss to the other’s forehead. “Rise and shine.”

Nate groans loudly as he stretches his stiff joints in the couch. He looks out to the small city and blinks.

No matter how much the Brotherhood had said about attraction and love, Nate had always made it feels welcoming though. Something that Danse still finds himself having trouble pulling away from. These past two weeks have been hell sent. But he won’t admit that out loud where the world can hear.

Nate then looks to his pip-boy as he licks his lips. His face goes from placid to wide and frantic within less than a second.  

“I was out for over three hours!?” He exclaims as he suddenly sits up straight.

Danse responds quickly with, “Your body needed the rest after everything you’ve been putting yourself through.”

Nate stands up, running a hand through his hair as his peace is disrupted by his own mind and responsibilities once more. This is probably the first time in months that Nate has had some time to himself.

“We’re going to be late!” Nate exclaims. “Did you let me sleep that long?” He asks with no bite to his tone.

“I only just arrived here,” Danse states.

That seems to calm the other man down a bit, his tense shoulders sagging. “Okay then we would have been late anyways,” Nate says more to himself than to the ex-Paladin.

“Why did you want me here?” Danse asks.

Deep blue eyes focus back onto the soldier. “Did you pick up those care packages?” He asks.

Danse could make a comment. A bad comment that would most likely have Nate snapping at him. Because why did Nate have him go to a Railroad drop point to meet up with Deacon of all people to hand him this, box? A care package of some sorts. Deacon hadn’t said much, had just said good luck before moving on with a fat grin on his face. He had tipped his wig of hair like some man in a suit would tip their fedora. It was odd and only had Danse confused even further.

But knowing that this job had to do with the Railroad, he couldn’t help but let that old hatred towards them linger and simmer. He’s aware it’s wrong, they help others of his kind. Synths. Yet there it was, that distaste that comes to his tongue whenever he’s near them or mentioned.

So, he replies with a simple and bland, “Yes.”

Nate picks up on his though and looks to him with a raised brow. “You didn’t do anything stupid with Deacon, did you?” He asks with a hand on his hip.

Danse’s brows shoot up. He should be offended at Nate saying such a thing! “No! I wouldn’t harm one of your contacts even if they’re-“ he cuts himself short. “I wouldn’t,” he repeats himself, his voice more on the verge of a whine than anything else. He clears his throat, hoping to cover it up.  

He shuffles around inside of his bomber jacket and holds out the two care packages to Nate instead. Hoping to distract the man from his current inner panic.

Nate takes the packages with a thank you. He opens them both up without a word, looking inside to make sure that everything is intact. From where Danse stands, he can’t see anything but from the look on Nate’s face, everything is satisfactory.

“Alright!” Nate exclaims as he snaps the packages shut. He places them under his arm as he makes his way back into Home Plate. “I want you to join me for a delivery!”

“A delivery?” Danse can’t help but ask.

“A very, dangerous delivery,” Nate grins slyly before he disappears inside.

Danse can’t help but roll his eyes at the comment. Isn’t everything dangerous when it comes to the man? The way he does things is, questionable. Danse groans to himself, before heading inside after the other.

[purplealmonds]

Karakasa plot prediction involving everyone's favorite cinnamon roll, Kame-chan 🐢🌸

Discussions of potential spoilers under the cut.

Did you notice in one of the trailers Kame has her hair lopped short? At least, I think it is her - the colors for her kimono collar seem to match up. Why is she crying?

To piece together what happened, let's gather up what we know about her thus far.

She is a junior maid at the ooku, and is not great at her job. Her friendly, softhearted personality is also one that does not mesh well with the ooku's culture.

Here we see here being forcefully dragged away - presumably for a punishment - by a yet-to-be-identified female character.

The color of this mystery character's outfit is somewhat similar to Mugiya's (pictured to the right), which makes me believe she's her underling. Mugiya's bio specifically states that she's irritated by Kame's freespirited behavior and envious of her beauty. And hmm, isn't green the universal color symbolizing envy?

Hear me out. This is what I believe to be the chain of events that will transpire in the movie:

Kame, who is not good at her job, builds up a lot of resentment from her elders who thinks she's getting away with shirking her duties because of her beauty.

Things come to a boiling point. She is set up to make a misstep so aggregious that it requires the most severe of punishments: banishment from the ooku.

Mugiya's underling drags Kame away to prepare for this punishment. I can't know for sure because my understanding of Japanese is limited, but I think Kame has a line imploring Asa not to save her, lest she also get punished. It really illustrates Kame's selflessness: she could have easily leveraged a good word from Asa, the most favored junior maid in the ooku, to save her from this fate. But she also knows how much Asa values her place in the ooku, and cannot bring herself to make her best friend sacrifice her place here.

Kame also has a strong affinity to hair. Her name sounds phonetically similar to kaminoke (髪の毛) - which means hair. When she first enters the ooku (judging from her drab outfit), the only thing of value she possesses is her kushi comb. To be accepted into the ooku, she discards it without hesitation.

Since Mugiya's envious of Kame's appearance, she hits her where it hurts the most: cutting her hair.

In Japanese culture, cutting hair symbolizes being banished and rejected from their home. This is especially heartbreaking for Kame because despite her shortcomings, she really wanted to be accepted into the ooku.

Her cut hair is physical proof that this will never happen. This is a girl who came to the ooku readily discarding everything she holds dear to be accepted into their fold, only to be spat back out with nothing to her name. She lost her hope of acceptance and love. She lost her good friend, Asa, who she will never see again once she's escorted beyond the ooku's walls.

And what do you know? I didn't put two and two together until now, but the lady responsible for Kame's haircut winds up fucking dead:

The Karakasa, an umbrella, is meant to shelter its owner from rain. It witnessed an innocent soul with no ambitions outside of being loved and accepted get cruelly banished by this institution. Moved by her tears (water), the Karakasa to began its haunting by killing off the woman responsible for Kame's pain to "protect" her. Which the cue for Kusuriuri to finally enters from stage left to investigate this scene.

...Who was it said something about Kame's salty lesbian tears in the shitpost prediction post? I think you deserve a cookie! 🍪

[twinkliker3000]

more x6-88 headcanons (post-institute)

Will occasionally have nightmares about being reclaimed, despite the institute being long gone. The thought of the institute still being out there, slowly rebuilding, is always on the back of his mind. Doesn't sleep much at night for that reason, unless he's near sole.

Total germaphobe. For the first couple of weeks in Sanctuary, refused to touch dirt or deal with radroaches and bloatflies. Died a little on the inside when he discovered people eat them. His cleaning sprees could match Codworth's.

Refuses to let anyone touch his hair. Started cutting it himself, eventually getting pretty good at it. If you're close to him, he will give you a bomb-ass haircut. His hands will "accidentally" slip if you're someone he can't stand. Once gave Marcy a bald spot on behalf of the entirety of Sanctuary.

If you asked him his favorite color while he was in the institute, he would've told you that was a pointless question. If you kept asking, black. Now, it'd be orange, because of the sunset. The sun setting was one of the first things he learned to appreciate about the commonwealth, as well as the stars. It comforts him knowing that every day comes to an end. In the institute, it was never over.

Adding onto the last headcanon, the reason he constantly wore glasses was because of the blinding institute lights. After moving to the surface, he eventually stopped wearing them as much.

Hates water. I'm not talking about his fear of water, oh no. If it rains, if he gets splashed, if he's forced to take a bath, god forbid if you use the thirst zapper on him - he is the literal epitome of a pathetic wet cat. (By the way, if you did use the thirst zapper on him, you better start running.)

Has an extreme love-hate relationship with Deacon. By love-hate, I mean X6 is 100% of the hate, 0% of the love. Do not leave this man in a room with him for more than 5 minutes, he will literally strangle him to death.

Deep down, he does appreciate Deacon, even though he'll never admit it. Deacon was one of the first people to look past him being a courser and accept him into the group. Unfortunately for X6, being 'accepted into the group' by Deacon means constant, never-ending pranks.

Part 1

[rhywhitefang]

Gertrude Robinson, through the ages

Indulge me for a rambly explanation under the cut... sorry i am an unhinged Gertrude lover

1950 - I will confess that I fudged the dates from the wiki a little bit for this timeline, apparently she was born in 1945? But that would mean that she became Head Archivist at 20 years old?? Which doesn't seem right to me so I aged her up a bit haha

1958 - Okay so please HEAR ME out, because I swear that my own self indulgence isnt the (only) reason why I gave Gertrude the headcanon of having a witchy/goth phase in her young adulthood. I just think it makes a lot of sense for her to already have an interest in the occult and the supernatural prior to having anything to do with the Magnus Institute, not only because of the ironic twist it gives her later excapades but also because I think it makes a lot of sense considering how the brief mentions of her younger years are framed. Plus, I just think its fun if she and Gerry secretly have this in common... though I don't think she would've brought it up to him, but you know^^

1961 - You know I fully believe that when Gertrude said the Desolation killed her cat she was telling the truth - much in the same way that her remark to Gerard about the tunnels under the institute was her telling the truth. There's definitely more to the story, though.

1963 - First day at the Archives, woohoo! Complete with a narratively significant haircut^^ This Gertrude means *busniess*

1965 - This is the year that Gertrude becomes Head Archivist yay^^

1974 - This is when she gets tied to Agnes by the Web... she's a bit older and has seen more shit. I also like the idea of her hair starting to gray at this point because I like that being a subtle Web mark.

1997 - Quite a skip forward, this is the year she learns of Jonah Magnus' secrets and unravels that whole thread. Once you do that, I feel like you kinda stop giving a fuck about the dress code at the Institute, I think. When I was talking to Phi about it, they said that it would make sense for this to be the start of Gertrude's very own paranoia arc. And you know what? I love that and it makes SO much sense. So that's why I incorporated that^^

2009 - Time to sacrifice Michael to stop the Spiral's ritual which is extremely hot and sexy of her <3 I support women's wrongs <3 (the picture is supposed to be her closing the door, I'm not sure how clear that is, though, haha)

2015 - Last year of her life, but still ready to fuck shit up

in conclusion... gertrude robinson lolm <3 <3 <3

[bnnywngs]

A young man with a elegant uniform was standing still right in front of the school gate, arms crossed and a stern expression in his beautiful face. By the crest on his chest and the color, it was clear he was from the extremely expensive prestigious private school two streets away from the public one he was currently glaring at - Cloud Recesses Academy. And by his look (the way his shoes shined, his bag looked expensive, and his haircut was very much like a young master) he could see he was from a prestigious family, too.

Yiling High School was an average public institution with it's lack of facilities and funds. It has a quite gloomy vibe around, with dark unwashed outside walls, dirty overgrown lawn and the vandalization that could be seen anywhere you walked by.

"Maybe he came to ambush our Louzu." a student murmured to their friends.

"Eh~? But why would Louzu be close to these rich kids?" one of them asked back "He's always talking shit about them."

"Right? Maybe this one didn't like it." another one laughed "They're quite sensitive, right?"

"Yeah!" they all laughed together, staring at the private school boy as they walked past.

They boy didn't even move to acknowledge the students staring at him not at all discreet, he was just standing there waiting for something or someone.

The ones ready for a good gossip, or who liked to watch their Laozu, the leader of the delinquent group of these school, the fear of the others, fight stayed close by waiting to see what was going to happen.

Some girls got interested in his beautiful face and wanted to get close, but decided to also wait.

They didn't need to wait for too long, because not long after, a boy with the same uniform as them came running out of the building, his long hair flying behind him quite prettily. It was the Yiling Laozu himself, going straight to the private school boy.

"Lan Zhan!" he yelled, a bright smile in his face.

The stern expression have way to a soft look, a barely there smile, and his arms uncrossed to open in wait. The Yiling Laozu jumped and hugged his boy with his long arms and legs, looking very happy.

"Wei Ying." the one holding him with too much easy said.

"Did you came to pick me up?"

"Mn." he nodded, sparing a small look around him using the corner of his eyes "Came to pick my boyfriend so we can walk home together."

Every student around them froze in shock hearing those words. Since when their Laozu had a boyfriend?!

With the happiest expression they ever saw on his pretty face, Yiling Laozu kissed the other boy on the mouth quite shamelessly, putting the last nail on the gossip billboard.

"Then, let's go!" Yiling Laozu said, getting down and walking away with his boyfriend holding hands in a very, extremely romantic way, the sunset making everything look even more surreal.

"Eat the rich, huh?" someone said in the silence they left behind.

It was complete and utter chaos the other morning when Wei Ying arrived in school, a hickey on the back of his neck.

(apparently, someone tried to confess to Wei Ying that week, and couldn't take no as answer and kept insisting and stalking him, so the boyfriend, Lan Zhan, decided to take matters into his own (big) hands)