#i see your he dyes his hair black to blend in

[rotten7rat]

BATFILES: Jason Todd

FULL NAME: Jason Peter Todd

ALIAS: Red Hood, prev. Robin

DATE OF BIRTH: August 16, 1997

HAIR: Dull ginger, white piece at front, loose curls

EYES: Pale blue-green

SKINTONE: Fair

HEIGHT: 6'3"/190cm

WEIGHT: 242lbs/110kg

ETHNIC BACKGROUND: Scottish, Indonesian, Italian, Dutch

DISTINCTIVE SCARS AND MARKINGS: Light freckles across face, shoulders and arms, deep scars on face, missing chunk from left ear, scar on left side of neck, small scar on right cheekbone

LANGUAGES: English, French, German, Italian, ASL, Mandarin, Arabic, Spanish, Russian (could use some work)

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: has moderate hearing loss in left ear and mild in right, suffers from chronic pain, especially in hands, gets migraines

[punkeropercyjackson]

Punk Percy Jackson headcanons but by an actual punk instead of someone who thinks skateboarding is an aesthetic

So first off this will include my Pjo self-insert Lex de los Santos since i'm a book!Percy selfshiper(and Walker is my little guy so expect lots of appreciation for him on this blog too)and if you're gonna be hateful of that,please just scroll past thanks!Now lets get into it:

Always had the punk mindset as seen in canon by her being anti-authority,rebelling against all corruption she sees and being extremely protective and loving towards younger minorities

But was too poor to afford the clothes and piercings and such.Didn't bother him though since he cared more about acting and thinking punk than looking it

Thalia was his first real experience with the subculture headon and that's a big reason why he admired and was lowkey jealous of her along with a bit of gender envy

Goes to protests with and does charity work with Rachel

And she buys him a bunch of punk stuff(From punk bussinesses ofc,otherwise what's the point)

Learned to DIY so many things it's a running gag

Riot Grrrl and Mcr fan-Also not punk but stans Megan Thee Stallion,Ice Spice and Lo-Fi beats too.Also really likes Green Day!!

The specific types of punk Percy is are afropunk(i hc them as half afro-dominican and half black-greek),seapunk(NOT because of Poseidon but because of Sally)and either crustpunk or pastel punk depending wether we're talking her as a bigender transfem and a misc between masc and fem presentation or her as a super femme trans woman.Not for gender roles reasons obviously because that would be ridicioulous but i just think that their lives would be significantly so that leads to a few differences in personalities and tastes

Persephone Ameila has comics!Starfire hair and dyes her faded from gray to white streak sea blue to blend in,Perseo Isadore has dreads and keeps his as is because Lex finds it hot.Here are illustrations of them by @honeypotsworld and @leo-thecactus using bases from the Pjo graphic novels!!

Straight edge

His autism definitely contributes to how how he approaches punkness.Examples include how blunt he is in it and a funny one is that he loves googling the most bizzare ass sounding and/or looking foods to make and eat and calls it 'sticking it to the man' and Lex encourages and joins on both

Their patches jacket has spikes on the shoulders and pockets and frills around the collar and his patches are the dominican,autism and trans flags,the anarchy symbol and ones to represent his most important people-A black mermaid for Sally,a pink rose for Lex,a skull for Nico and a yellow diamond for Hazel.It has a good handful of pins and his collection is ever growing but his favorites are the cat one and the Riptide one Lex made him

Goes on estrogen but light dosages and for a short amount of time compared to full transitions and gets no surgeries.Wears makeup too(*Insert the putting makeup on your gf redraw meme but with Perlex*)and has a tongue ring,an eyebrow piercing and forward helix on both ears

Radicalized Nico and Hazel,who are now goth punk and pastel goth punk.The three of them and Lex are known as 'The Outcast Godlings' because of the usual treatment Hades and Pluto kids get that the first two were no exception to and Percy's and Lex's feelings of isolation and otherness even after getting to Camp Half Blood,all of which were thankfully resolved by the the end of Hoo and the begining of Tales of Dead Seas(My fansequel to it that happens instead of Toa and has them as the mcs)

Exclusively buys his video games and consoles and legos secondhand due to being anti-capitalism

Killed Luke in TLO not only because of being the hero of the prophecy but also because no actual punk wouldn't unalive a fascist who was also a serial ped0phile the second they got the chance.She made sure it was extra painful too and even had Nico use his soul erasing power we saw in BOO on him

Owns a pair of colbat blue and black demonias that Beckendorf got him which are a little tight on him now but he wears them anyway to remember him by

Them and Lex make clothes for Nico and Hazel with Sally's help and play the Team Parents role for them in general♡

Perlex is punk4punk but Lex is pastel punk and solarpunk!!They go on punk dates like going to concerts together in matching outfits and skateboarding and rollerblading in their opposites aesthetics board and skates and defacing public property together <3 Also Percy has the cocky flirty punk guy thing going on you usually see in male characters who are but it's a Lex exclusive

@angel-beloved @floof-ghostie @gummywormlimbs @biandbored

[sakkiichi]

THAT JULY NINTH, THE BEAT OF YOUR HEART.

“And I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day.”

Kaveh x gn! reader.

cw/genre: pure fluff, very soft birthday special for the sweet baby.

word count: 900 words.

Golden.

The color that first came to mind when you thought of him.

Bright, warm and exuding beauty and elegance, yet easily dimmed when clouds concealed the sun.

Golden.

The luxurious shade that seemed to cling to everything he touched, painting your darkest grey skies luminous shades of blue.

Golden.

The memory you want to gift him today, as the world dyes in the auburn shades of sundown.

Three knocks on his study’s door are met with the gentle lilt of the architect’s voice when he says: “come in.”

You push open the wooden door, peeking inside the warm lit room. The huge floor to ceiling windows outline the artist in an almost ethereal glowing halo, his form bent over the desk. Pencil in hand, new lines come to life when it glides along the paper, an enchanting mosaic of blacks and whites, sunlight and shadow.

You smile, he always seemed so confident when he was in his element.

“Working hard today too, I see.” You chuckle, leaning against the doorframe.

Your lover rises his gaze from his project, summer beams reflected in those ruby eyes of his.

“Ah, it’s you, my love.” Kaveh smiles, gently placing his pencil by the marked canvas he was working on. Standing up, he makes his way to where you are, strong gentle arms looping around your waist.

“You didn’t plan to spend all day cooped up in here, now, did you?” You tease, bopping his nose.

“I… uh…” Your boyfriend’s cheeks take on a rather peach-like hue, growing watercolors under molten sunsets.

You chuckle, he’s simply adorable.

“Caught you.” You tell him, your lips playfully curving upwards.

At your antics, Kaveh’s shoulders sag, a sigh escaping his lips in defeat.

“Fine… you got me alright.” He admits, bringing a hand to his temple. “But it’s just another day, right? What harm can be done in me just staying here?”

The gold was dimming. You can’t let it to, you can’t let him to.

“Kaveh, today’s not just any day.” You begin, one of your hands taking his, fingers lacing together, as you cradle his cheek with the other. “It’s your day. And the first of your special days we spend together, love.” You utter tenderly, softly caressing his cheek with your thumb.

“I know, but I don’t deserv-“

“Oh shush now.” You place your index on top of your lover’s rosy lips. “I won’t hear it. Today’s special, and I’d be very happy if you could celebrate with me… so, don’t leave me hanging?” You plead, both your hands taking his in your own now.

With gilded rays painting him in tones of summer, he sighs again.

“How am I supposed to say no to that face?” Kaveh smiles, true, even if a little melancholy.

As you gush over and run to hug him, a lovestruck expression draws in the architect’s face. He still doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, and, even if he still thinks you could do better (he knows you’d scold him if you could read his thoughts) he’ll hold tight onto you for as long as he can.

—

The early evening breeze is rose colored when it ruffles through his hair.

Kaveh leans his back against a sturdy tree trunk, his arms around you, steady heartbeat lulling you into a sweet daze as you rest your head on his chest.

Around you, a checkered light blue blanket lays, the wicker basket you used to carry your snacks now empty at your feet. You smile to yourself; your boyfriend was so cute when he blushed as you fed him fruit pies, and even more so when you kissed traces of powdered sugar off his lips.

None of them were as sweet as he is, though.

Overhead, saffron heavens blend into fuchsia, an horizon that seems so faraway and within reach at the same time, contoured in honey.

“Happy birthday, Kaveh.” You utter, turning around in his embrace. Your eyes lock with his, expression determined, the dimming rays of the setting sun at a standstill for a few seconds more. “I hope we get to celebrate every year, from now on, my love.” You breathe, your noses millimeters away.

And for the first time in his life, the light of Kshahrewar takes a chance for himself, his lips connecting with yours as the sky veils in shades not unlike padisarah blooms. His hands that have designed entire palaces create masterpieces over your skin when they hold onto your waist, waves of heated shivers coloring you in his vibrant adoration.

Your hands tangle in the aureate locks of his silky hair, your weight leaning against his torso, as you get lost in the myriad of radiant petals that flutter from Kaveh’s heart to yours with every touch.

Golden. The color you’d choose for him, undoubtedly.

What perhaps you didn’t know is that, to Kaveh, you shined gilded too.

No matter how blazing the sun outside, the famed architect would always find brightest rays to warm his soul when he was by your side.

You pull away, bodies still impossibly close, arms around each other.

Night has settled, except for the both of you, the world still aglow in an eternal sunset.

“I hope so too.” Are Kaveh’s first words after your lips part.

Perhaps for today, the universe had matched the master architect’s skills designing this idyllic moment for him.

Maybe some gold things did stay, after all.

[corruptive-sinner]

Rough Time

Warning CnC

non-consensual drug use too

but the priest is so highkey into and this is fantasy, you little sinner 😘

Smog filled the air, thick skunky clouds filled the room the priest sat. it was long after hours and no one was here this time at night besides him. Still in my "Sunday best" I would say too.

~A mouth watering sight to a certain demon. unbeknownst to the priest.

I let out a cough, both in shock and the sudden lack of clean air, the basement office had always been a stuffy place without the sudden smoke. Had the church been burning?

I get up to escape when a firm object stops me, slamming into my chest, flat like someone had held out a hand. I stumble back falling down, fear and confusion clouding my already scattered mind.

A presence enters through the smoke, starting out as a cloudy black blob, two long protrusions seen sticking out of its head, but when it steps through it appears a regular human, with blackened eyes staring down at me, a masculine person smiling wickedly.

I freeze, looking up, helpless. Praying for God to save me, give me strength to battle this demon.

"Calm down Father, there's no fire. Just something to calm your nerves," he says, smoke escaping out of his mouth as he does. Leans down, grabs my shirt and yanks me upwards, "you're cute when your scared, Father~"

I struggle and he releases instantly, I am pinned against my desk, he blocks the door, the door I can't even see if its open or not, the lights dimming and flickering from his presence. he strides forward. A smooth confidence, I asses his features,

A shorter man than I previously thought, I only 5'9 he seemed 5'6ish, but strong, as proved seconds ago. His hair is a vibrant red, one on a normal day would assume dye of some sort, but demons can look like anything I have been taught. He normal fine clothes, wait-

I know him, he was here today,

"There you go, you remember me." He smiled, closing the gap between us and pressing my hips to his. Those same black denim pants topped with a black shirt and dark flannel made him blend in perfectly around these parts of town.

I didn't fight him. This didn't feel wrong, and that doesn't feel right but,

"That's right, deep breathes, hehe,"

I couldn't help but breathe in the smoke, burning my lungs. Making me cough painfully. As quick as I felt panic I relaxed, the pain dulled, it got easier to just breathe again.

Oh, it's weed, that disgusting aroma should have tipped me off. I also smelled it vaguely on him, earlier after the sermon, he leaned in and said

"You're handsome for a sheep."

I hadn't understood, but now, his leg inching mine apart, the world getting fuzzy, a giggle comes from my throat.

He looks at me, with those haunting eyes he has. He was quite handsome, it made me completely disregard any threat, i blamed old nerves from when I was a teen. Sneaking out to kiss the boys in our boarding home. Someone brought weed once, I always wished I had just tried it. It is as nice as they said.

"Relaxed yet?"

"Mhm, you're handsome,"

"As are you, so proud and pretty like a bird doing a mating dance, maybe you're an angel eh? Hehe." He inched his face closer to mine, I could almost feel his stubble. His strong hands planted me against my desk, pinned, like prey. I should be scared, fighting back, but like the boys said back then, just blame the weed. Maybe I will.

I leaned down to bridge the gap, capturing his lips, desperately pushing against his strong body. He pushed me back against the desk roughly. I let out the smallest moan but he hears it,

"Atta boy, enjoying yourself aren't you?" He breathed into my ear, low and gravelly.

My blood was hot, my head was clouds. My dick was painfully constricted to my pants. I could feel the precum gathering from the tip. I moaned into his shoulder when his hand grazed the front of my pants.

"Someone feeling a little neglected? Just let me take care of you." he says that like I have any choice, I don't need a choice, i want him to do whatever he wants to me.

"Good Father," he moans into my ear as his hands slip into my pants freeing my dick. The sudden colder air and rough hand makes me jerk primitively.

"Calm down, there's no need to rush, we have all night~"

That thought makes me moan, he just laughs slightly, giving me a tender kiss as he begins pumping his hand, I white knuckle the table to contain myself, to last at least a few minutes.

His togue prods my lips and I let him in instantly, he's rough but gives my opportunities to explore him as well, I take those with full vigor feeling his fangs with my tongue. Becoming a moaning mess in the process when I taste some of my own blood.

My garbled mind straining to form thoughts besides this overwhelming pleasure radiating throughout my body, his hand providing a steady firm rhythm, his tongue in my mouth, his other hand sinking claws into my waist as he holds me.

His hand releases and I whine pathetically for it to return,

"Easy Father," He whispers giving a final kiss before lowering to his knees, a devilish smirk giving me a jolt. He takes my member and licks whorishly at the head, collecting a large amount of precum on his tongue, showing me before taking the rest smoothly down.

I can't pretend to hold back my moans, his horns grow from the smog and I take them to hold. They feel like somewhat smoother goats horns I note, but anything more coherent would not return to me until much later. I was lost in pleasure.

The demon's mouth was hot, wet, and though he had fangs I never felt them until he teased me by grazing them on the sensitive spots he discovered by judging the intensity of my moans. Just as I began to edge closer to finishing he abruptly pulled away.

I whimper pathetically at him. He just laughs, again. Mocking asshole. He's the one who wants this, me.

The demon stands up, twits me arounds and slams me onto my own desk, the breathe knocked out of me, but instead of pain it'd all numb tingling throughout my body. My pants are inched down and the realization of what he's about to do makes me moan like a real whore.

"I knew you had it in you~" He chides leaning down on top of me, whispering in my ear.

My bare ass felt exposed, there was a pressure in my, rear. And I don't hate it, that thought should disgust me, but I've never felt so good or wanted something so bad. He pushed slowly inside of me, the tingling was intense but all I could do was moan. Fuck I want him to start moving.

"Eager are we? Alright." he says as he bottoms me out, a shrill gagged moan escaped me. and before I could adjust he started pumping in and out at a steady, unrelenting pace. I was overfilled with pleasure it made my head ring, blocking out most noises to a faint dull, just focusing on the pleasure and getting lost being used like this. My climax came creeping up again, he started pumping faster, the movement making my old desk creak with the strain of both our bodies. The heat of his body pressing into mine as he came in me pushed me over the edge, it burned in a way I never wanted to end.

He slowly pulled out, I'm still leaned over my desk as I hear him redress.

"Lets do this again sometime, Father."

And with that the strange demon, and his smoke, and the effects of the smoke are gone. The slow sobering mixed with the cooling cum, but shame heating up my chest. But, I will be looking for him in my next sermon.

[cloudycleric]

OMGGF @notebooknonbinary

———

“Ugh… everything’s just so boring.” Will said as he leaned back into the couch, hands on his head. “Do you ever think that the days are starting to blend together?? Like everything is just the same?”

Mike nodded his head, eating a cookie on the couch next to Will. “Yeah. It happened a lot while you were in California.”

Will blushed, looking away. While you were in California. It was crazy to think Will had that much of an impact on Mike’s life. “I just—I wish there could just be a change. Like, y’know how some people dye their hair? I wish I could do something like that.” He paused. “Well—I don’t want to dye my hair. But, I don’t… you get it right?”

“Yeah. Like getting a funky hair cut or something.”

“Yeah—…no. If we’re being clear, I don’t want to do anything to my hair. Please.”

The couch gave in to Mike almost crawling over to Will, shuffling against the corduroy fabric. “Good, I like your hair the way it is.”

Only Mike could make Will melt with just a simple sentence. He laid his head on one of Will’s thighs, humming. There’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing, Will thought.

“What if you got a piercing?”

“Uhm. What?”

“A piercing, like what girls have on their ears. With the needles and stuff.”

Will cringed. He hated needles even though he forced himself to be okay around them. He didn’t want anything to do with them if they weren’t for medical purposes.

“Look. I know how you get around needles. But I’ll do it for you, okay? And you can tell me to stop whenever.”

Will felt more at ease. “I trust you…”—a pause—“but I don’t want earrings. They’re just not for me.”

The curly haired boy let out a big breath (the kind that made his cheeks look huge) slowly. “Well, you don’t have to get you ears pierced. What about…your lips?”

“No.”

“Eyebrows?”

“No.”

“Your tongue?”

“Ew. No.”

“Your… nipple?”

“Mike!”

“Your nose?”

His nose. Something that could be discrete and cute, that wasn’t too flashy or attention drawing.

“What part of my nose?”

“Well, you could do the outside of your nose, like a ring or something, or you could do the inside of your nose, like between your nostrils. I think it’s called a septum piercing.”

“Like…what bulls have?”

Mike laughed. “Kind of. But they don’t have to look like that. Like, Max, I think she has one now. It can be open or closer or whatever. She says that cause her ring is open she can just flip up the piecing when she doesn’t want it showing and that she can always take it out.” He finally moved his head off of Will’s thigh. “It would be cute on you.”

Will studies Mike’s face.

“But only if you want to.”

He ran his hands through his hair, thinking of all the different possibilities. Will could always say no if he didn’t want to do it, Mike was always understanding. But the idea did seem appealing to Will, especially if he could just flip up the ring or take it out. “Okay. Do your worst.”

Mike jumped up, his black jeans tight around his legs. “I’ll go get my piercing kit.”

Piercing kit? What had Will gotten himself into this time?

It took the boys a couple of hours, but eventually Will was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at Mike putting on plastic gloves with a ponytail in his hair, telling him to relax.

Usually, he’d be freaking out, wanting out of the situation immediately even if he wanted the piercing. But Mike’s calming voice mixed with the way his hair curled around his face was intoxicating.

“Okay. I’m gonna do it. Hold still.”

Will was still disassociating when suddenly he felt an intense sting in his nose. “Fuck!”

“HOLD STILL!! WILLIAM!!!” Mike said as he hastily yet carefully slipped the piercing onto his nose. “And… done.”

“Jesus Christ Michael!”

“Sorry! I was just giving you the piercing—oh my god.”

“What?”

“You just—you just—”

Will ran into the bathroom, trying to see what the hell Mike had done to his nose. He swung the door open, ready to see the horrifying mess that Mike had—oh.

He was stunned. Mike soon slipped in behind him, acknowledging Will’s stunned nature.

“Oh my god.” Will said, jaw dropping.

“You look fucking hot.”

Will immediately turned around, still feeling the sting of his new septum piercing.

“I’m sorry, but you do.”

“It—” so much was going on, a little too much for Will to process. “It—you—it…”

“Yes?”

“It still hurts.”

“Well, I’d be happy to kiss it better. But that’s probably not sanitary.”

What the hell was happening? Was Will dreaming? As if the day could get any weirder.

“Or… I could—”

“Thank… you?”

Mike smirked, turning Will back around to look in the mirror. “Honestly—you didn’t really need the piercing,” he started. “But I’m so glad you have it now.”

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 1: These Devilish Intentions

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: A brewing situation gives Lucy the chance to prove herself, but only at the risk of her own life.

Word Count: 2,661

Notes: No warnings this time.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic 

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 6: Black Heart

“Do you think I should dye my hair?”

Tommy looked up from where he’d been rolling a cigarette between his fingers, digesting the report Lucy had just given him on her findings surrounding the man she’d been following for the past few weeks.

“What?”

Lucy twisted a lock of auburn hair around her finger absentmindedly. “If I’m going to be killing and spying for you, it might be best if I don’t have such recognizable features. This,” she raised the curl she’d been fiddling with, “is pretty damn distinguishable.”

Tommy frowned, lowering his cigarette to the ashtray, considering her suggestion. Never before had he known someone with hair quite like hers, the color a deep, rich red. A beacon of bright color amongst the gray smoke and soot of Small Heath. It hadn’t taken long for the red color to become associated with her in his mind. Deadly and beautiful. While she spoke of her hair’s distinguishable features as if it were a curse, he found himself to have grown quite fond of it.

During the past few weeks she had spent on her little spy mission for him, she’d been wearing a black wig to more easily blend in and avoid arousing suspicions. The wig was currently tossed haphazardly onto the table in front of them. Tommy couldn’t say that he would mourn its demise. Seeing her with it on had felt odd; wrong. Like a core part of her was being suppressed. Eyes narrowing, he tried to picture her as a brunette or blonde and promptly pursed his lips at the idea. No; neither of those would do at all. He reached a hand across to lightly take the lock of hair between his fingers. Not tugging, but lightly twisting it.

“Don’t ever dye your hair,” he said softly. “I’ll buy you some more wigs.”

Lucy looked at him with wide, dark green eyes. “Okay.”

He allowed himself one quick moment to rub the soft curl of red between his thumb and index finger before letting it fall and leaning back. It would be pointless to deny that he had grown fond of her. A feeling that only grew with the time that they spent together. 

They were more alike than he could have possibly imagined. The same sorrowful gaze that he couldn’t fully banish from his eyes reflected back at him in hers. The quiet rage at the injustice of the world. The need for the work that they did, lest they be left alone too long with their own thoughts and fall to pieces.

But she was funny, when she wanted to be. In a way that often forced him to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. And she wasn’t afraid of him, not even a fraction. Recently, when it was just the two of them, he felt…lighter. Like he could let the mask he held so carefully in place slip away and just be himself for a moment. No need to guard his emotions so tightly to his chest.

It was no secret that the people of Birmingham all thought him to be a monster. Even his own family was beginning to believe it; convinced that his heart was but a shriveled, black husk inside his chest. That was if it even existed at all.

But Lucy never treated him that way. She saw right through all the barriers and carefully constructed walls around his mind and heart. Somehow, he had managed to convince her of the existence of his compassion. And when she had rested her head on his chest that one time, he just about melted. Wanting to scream, “do you hear it? Do you hear my heart beating, Lucy? Do you hear that all the horrible things you’ve heard about me are not entirely true?”

Coughing, as if doing so could dispel the thoughts muddling his mind, Tommy shifted in his seat.

“So. You’re telling me that they’re all meeting at a pub, every Wednesday, in the afternoon?”

“Yep,” she popped the ‘p’ for emphasis. “Those boys that jumped John, the ones I blinded? They were part of the group too,” she tapped a speck of ash from her cigarette into the ashtray. “And there’s something else. They have an informant in the Blinders. I think his name is Jeremy? Tall guy, with black hair and a tattoo here,” she tapped her inner left wrist. Tommy nodded. He knew the man; a quiet soul, often meandering silently in the backs of bars, watching the goings on with shrewd black eyes.

“Anything else?” he stubbed out his cigarette and immediately pulled out another, swiping it along his lips once before lighting it.

“Actually, yeah,” she took a small sip of the amber liquid in her glass. “There’s someone outside of Birmingham supplying them with additional funds. They’ve promised to send them more guns.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know. They mentioned letters, but I couldn’t get my hands on any.”

He nodded, eyes darting away from her as he considered. “We’ll need to move fast, before they get their hands on any weapons. Otherwise they’ll be harder to put down,” he spoke more to himself than to her. “I’m calling a family meeting,” he decided, standing and reaching for his coat. “Come on. I want you there.” 

A spark of surprise ignited behind her eyes. “You do?”

“Mhm,” he simply hummed.

“Are you sure that’ll be alright?”

“I’m the boss, Lucy. It’s alright if I say it is,” he held out a hand to her, those small, pale fingers sliding into his. Her touch was cold against his skin as he helped pull her to her feet. Shrugging her coat on, Lucy followed him out of the Garrison and into the smoky Birmingham air. It was beginning to get cold; he suspected that they would be getting their first snowfall within the next week or so.

“Family meeting,” he said to Polly, having barely even stepped inside the house. “Now.”

Slowly, the rest of the Shelbys began to make their way into the kitchen. Tommy leaned against the wall, lighting another cigarette while he waited. Lucy hovered near him, hands braced behind her against the counter.

“What’s she doing here?” Polly asked, eyes narrowed. 

“Oh, give it a rest, Pol,” Arthur groaned, slouching over in a chair. 

“Lucy has provided us with invaluable information about the men who have been resisting us, Pol. She deserves to be here,” Tommy said sternly. Polly’s lips pressed together in a thin line, but she conceded with a slight lowering of her head.

“So what’s all this about, Tom?” John asked. Tommy sighed heavily, rolling his head back.

“We have a problem.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

She watched quietly from her spot braced against the kitchen counter, the Shelbys all looking to be about five seconds away from strangling each other. Polly and John were shouting, Arthur glowering with his arms crossed over his chest. Ada was very passive aggressively spreading jam across a piece of toast. Tommy was pinching at the bridge of his nose, clearly nursing a headache. 

Watching them now, it really was a miracle that they had gone as long as they had without one of them murdering the others.

The argument had broken out shortly after Tommy relayed to them her report; that the faction working against them was soon to come into possession of the equivalent of a small armory from an anonymous benefactor in London, and that if they wanted to stamp out this growing rebellion against them before it became uncontainable, they would have to make their move. Fast. 

“How many men are we even talking about here?” Polly asked, rounding suddenly to Lucy.

“No more than ten,” she said softly. “There are others who have become interested in their ideas lately, but it’s those core ten, including Jeremy, that are the main source of the problem. You get rid of them, you’ll effectively kill their message.”

“Just pay them off,” Polly said with a frustrated wave of her hand. “There’s no need for such an excessive show of force over ten troublemakers.”

“If you do that, suddenly everyone else will start to wonder if maybe they can get a few extra pounds by roughing up a few Blinders,” Lucy said. “And if you leave them be, their ideas about rebelling will continue to spread. You need to remind the people that this type of resistance isn’t acceptable.”

“So you’re going to just waltz in there and shoot up ten men in a pub on a Wednesday afternoon?” Polly looked at Tommy. “What if one of you gets shot?”

Tommy sighed. “We’ll bring reinforcements. They won’t be expecting it.”

“No,” Lucy’s voice was quiet. “They’ve been looking for an opportunity to take one or all of you out. You walk into that pub, they’ll recognize you immediately, and you’ll be shot on sight.”

“So we send some of our boys instead,” Arthur sat up from where he had been leaning forward against the kitchen table.

“Jeremy will recognize anyone who’s a Blinder the second they step through the door and alert the others.”

“Shit,” Polly groaned, burying her face in her hands, and the shouting began again.

“We need to deal with this now-”

“I really would rather not get shot-”

“Maybe if we try going in from the back-”

“Polly, do you have any good recipes for poison-”

Lucy rubbed at her temple, the voices beginning to overlap and merge with each other into a distant hum.

“Just send me,” her voice was barely even a whisper, and yet they all froze mid-sentence to stare at her.

“What?” Tommy said quietly.

“Jeremy has barely interacted with me. He doesn’t know my face. If he did he would have sounded the alarm as soon as I stepped into that pub. I can get in close enough and they won’t suspect me.”

“You’re talking about taking on ten men on your own,” Polly said, shaking her head. “You’ll be killed.”

“Not if I hit them fast enough and take them by surprise. And if I make sure that they’re good and drunk first.”

“How’d you reckon you’ll accomplish that?”

“Pose as a barmaid. I’ve gotten friendly with the girl who works Wednesday afternoons. I can convince her to take the day off and let me work in her place.”

“I have something,” Polly said, “And no, it isn’t a poison, John, but it’ll make them more drowsy. Slow reaction times. You could put it in their drinks.”

Lucy nodded, the plan slowly beginning to take shape. She glanced to the side, where Tommy was leaning against the wall, his lips had set into a firm line, jaw clenched. But she could see the wheels spinning behind his eyes as he thought it over.

“Unless anyone else has any better ideas,” she said.

“What about the other people in the bar?” John asked.

“It’s usually quiet around that time on Wednesdays, that’s why they meet then.”

“Tommy?” Polly asked, clearly also noting his silence. He cleared his throat, expression taking on that stony, guarded look that Lucy had come to learn meant that he was trying very hard to hide what he was actually feeling.

“Yep. Sounds like a plan,” the dismissal in his voice was clear as day. “You hit them next Wednesday. Start preparing,” he stubbed his cigarette out into the ashtray and began to head for the door. “Meeting over.”

Lucy watched as the door swung shut behind him, taken aback by his sudden coldness. She thought that he would at the very least be pleased. They would soon be doing away with what had become a rather annoying thorn in all of their sides. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was upset; or that she had done something wrong. 

“Right,” she mumbled, foot moving to tap anxiously against the floor.    

∗ ∗ ∗ 

She checked, and then double checked to make sure that the revolver was loaded properly. That there would be limited likelihood of it jamming or otherwise malfunctioning. Satisfied, she set it down onto the bed in a row with the other three, fingers sliding carefully along the cool, black metal.

“You know it isn’t Wednesday yet, right?”

She turned to find Tommy leaning against the doorframe, removing his hat to stuff it into his coat pocket.

“How’d you get in?” she asked, but was unable to suppress a small smile at his presence.

“Magic.”

She giggled, pulling a knife from its sheath and wiping it down with a cloth. “I’m just…making sure everything’s ready.” 

“Nervous?”

Her shoulders shrugged noncommittally. “I dunno. Maybe.”

“You don’t have to do this,” the omission took her by surprise, straightening to look at him with unhidden perplexion. Tommy looked away, down at his shoes. Almost shyly.

“It’s part of what you brought me on for,” she murmured, confused. Tommy shook his head.

“That doesn’t mean–” he sighed, leaning his head back, clearly frustrated. She wasn’t sure if she had ever seen him at a loss for words before. “I don’t want you to feel as though you have to do something just because I want it done. You do have a choice,” his gaze was intense, more so than usual. “I need you to know that.”

“We made a deal.”

His head was shaking before she even finished saying it. “You’ve already more than paid your debt. I’m not—I’ll still protect you from them. But I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

She sheathed the blade and placed it down beside the revolvers. Sitting down on the bed, her head tilted, mattress dipping beneath her weight.

“Are you feeling alright?” that got a laugh from him, moving to sit beside her on the bed. “Never thought of you to be much of a worrier.”

“I’m not,” he sighed. She wasn’t entirely sure that she believed him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. 

“You…you’re important to me,” he said. “To the company,” he added swiftly. She hoped that her eyes didn’t show the disappointment she felt at that add-on. “It would be a pain in the ass to find someone who’s as good of an assistant as you are.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing that I don’t plan on dying then,” eyes narrowing to playful slits, she bit back another smile, remembering their conversation long ago in that field, sitting beneath a great tree while their horses grazed in the meadow. “This is because I’m short, isn’t it? You think that I can’t handle ten men because they outweigh me?”

Chuckling, Tommy, shook his head. “No. It isn’t that.”

“Because you’re not particularly tall yourself, you know.”

His brows shot up, looking like he was trying very hard to appear incensed, but she could see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Compared to you I am.”

“Get out.”

He laughed, hand falling down, fingers dancing over hers, curling around the hand she had planted on the bed. “Just be careful.”

There was something in his eyes. A crack that led beyond the layers of strength and coldness that he had wrapped himself in. A vulnerability, a desperate, quiet psychic call. It curled around her, much like his presence had so long ago in Charlie’s yard. Back then the chant had been a deep, tempting offer: 

Come to me. Come to me. Come to me.

But now it was something else. Not a chant so much as a plea. Interlaced with desperate longing:

Come back to me.

A flutter of amusement echoed in her chest. Some terrifying monster he turned out to be. Teetering on boyish shyness in his worry for her. Protective and gentle. 

Fingers squeezing around his, she scooted just a breath closer to him. Until their shoulders brushed and she could smell the smoke in his coat.

“I promise.” 

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

Previous Part • Next Part

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic 

[wine-and-fanficideas]

Unfortunately Your Reputation Precedes you

Part 2

Part 1

Dpxdc TW for fic topics include rape, child abuse, abuse, murder

Sam (15) - Danny (15) - Danielle (15) - Jazz (17)

*Story Starts Here*

Danny would be starting his sophomore year with Danielle. The Fenton Portal was destroyed in the explosion, and Vlad actually closed his portal when he wasnt actively using it. He wasnt sure what to expect of a year without ghost attacks, much less attending a private school.

Sam, at least, would be transfering with him. Tucker, unfortunately, couldn't afford the tuition.

Amity Park Private High School was vastly different than Casper High. Uniforms, for one, and a strict expectation of excellence, preparing the students for their future careers before they even picked their college or university.

Danny wasn't surprised by his class list. Bussiness, Management, Engineering, Economics, everything he'd need to be Heir to Vlad's corporate empire.

Dani's list wasnt much better. Dance, Gymnastics, Health & Beauty, it was like she was being prepped to be a trophy wife.

Danny glanced through the list and realized, that probably exactly what was happening.

"Tools," Sam said. "That's all we are to them,"

Sam's list was an odd blend of the 'twins' lists.

"I'm expected to both inherit the company and marry well," Sam waved her crumpled list. "So wifey classes and business classes."

"This is so messed up," Dani groaned.

Danny wanted to be angrier about this, summer had just started and they had two and a half months before school started again, but it was hard to feel anything for any notable length of time.

He couldn't remember the last conversation he had with his parents.

Had it been a fight? Did he tell them he loved them? Did he hug his Mom? Did his Dad squeeze his shoulder? When had it been, their last conversation? If he had known that was the last time he'd ever see them again-

"Which is why I'll have to wash the dye out,"

Danny blinked. "Die?"

"Hair dye," Sam said. "My Dad's blond, and my mother a red head. You really think my hair is naturally black?"

"Your Grandmother could've had black hair,"

"Nope, blonde and ginger are recessive genes. Didn't you read any of the notes on genetics Tucker and I made you last year?"

"...there's a square and the letters match up and that's somehow dna math?"

Sam groaned, half choking on a laugh as she shook her head.

"I'm blonde, Danny. I've been dying my hair black and purple since middle school."

"Why can't you keep doing that?"

"Because AP Private has a strict dress code, including hair dye regulations."

"...is purple your actual eye color?"

" No Danny," Sam said. "Purple is not typically a natural eye color."

"...do you wear contacts?"

"Yep. Did you not know that? Tucker found out years ago."

"Didn't seem important? I don't know I never thought about it."

"Well, I'm blonde," Sam said. "And under my colored prescription contacts, my eyes are grey. I never liked the way I looked, which is why I did all the hair dying and contacts and piercings. I thought, if I was a blank canvas, how would I paint myself? And then I did,"

Days seemed to blend together that summer. It was so weird, living with Vlad. Danny had two cards, one debit and one credit. He knew Vlad was tracking his purchases, but he couldn't sleep in the lifeless room.

He redecorated it, from the ceiling full of stars to the the books on the shelves, he shopped until the cards were declined.

That was also the first time Vlad hit him.

It was different from their fights as Hero and Villain had been.

Before Danny could've fought back, or dodged, or even spat something snarky at the Fruitloop.

But Danny couldn't muster up the desire to dodge right now, much less anything else. Going intangible was more instinct than conscious thought, but Vlad was expecting that.

Danny lay in his room, his face stinging. This wasnt fair. This wasn't right. He rolled over and screamed into a pillow.

[mrsshabana]

"Your biggest fan" deserves a lot more love so I'll start asking more questions about ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ I'm not sure If I missed it when re-reading or not- but I've got two questions! I'm curious if Gyutaro's hair in this fic is a solid black color, or if he possibly dyed it to the green and black ombre? I could see some of the band members deciding to dye their hair just cause they felt like it. My second question is did you ever find out what song references you wanted to use for him in the fic? You don't have to answer if you want it to be a surprise for whenever it happens but I will say I am so excited for the next chapter whenever it comes out!! Maybe I'll get the motivation to draw him from this fic too.. who knows.. ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

I'm so glad you asked this because I was wondering the exact same thing. I went back and looked, and I think I was imagining him with his fully black hair. I do think it would be fitting for a band member to have dyed hair, but I kind of wanted to leave him with his black hair since he has green hair in AAO. Also in this fic Gyutaro is very shy and tends to prefer blending into the background. Anything that he feels might make him stand out gives him a bit of anxiety. But being in a band is slowly helping him become more confident. Especially with you around. (*/ω＼*)

For the songs, I think I found a few. There is one particular Slipknot song that I am really loving. But I am loving a lot of the Three Days Grace songs too because I think a lot of their lyrics would be meaningful in the story (specifically songs from their one-x album). I am having a very hard time finding a singer that has a similar voice to Gyutaro's. Because his voice isn't necessarily deep, it is just very raspy. So I may just have to pick a song I like and hope that we can imagine Gyutaro singing it even if it doesn't quite sound like him. I am very open to specific song suggestions though! Even if the song has two singers where you could imagine one as Gyutaro and maybe the other as Douma could be nice too.

And I would love to see more of your drawings!! There is a specific scene in the photoshoot chapter I am working on and Gyutaro looks so damn sexy. I wanna sketch it but idk if I will have time. (≧﹏ ≦)

[andro-dino]

furries have been on my brain so here are some shogun steel characters and what i think their species would be and why 1. Zyro is a black jaguar!! you are right axel he is pretty kitty but i feel like his backstory and personality fit a wildcat more. i like to imagine he dyes his fur orange to help him stand out cause he blends in with the dark so well haha

2. Maru is a hamster!! this one is mostly based on vibes teehee. she's just a little guy. pick her up and hold her in your palm 💞💞💞 i could also see her being a bear cub tbh, but i just like the image of her stuffing her face and her cheeks get all large as a hamster hehe.

3. Shinobu is an axolotl!! it's literally cause of his antenna hair i gotta be honest with you lol. but besides that i just feel like the colors of axolotls suit him and it's fuel for your mexican hcs cause axolotls are native to mexico 👀 (ive also imagined in this universe where instead of breaking his bones in canon he loses limbs and has to be in the hospital so he can safely regenerate them akdsjfasdfk)

4. the Unabara brothers are sea otters!! i mentioned before that kite's hair being urchin shaped reminds me of how sea otters eat urchins so i found it fitting. plus it fits with the aquatic theme they have going on. in japanese mythology otters were tricksters like kitsune and tanuki and that fits eight to a T. otters also hold hands to stay together in the water and that's soooo unabara-coded <333

5. Ren is a hunting dog, most likely a spaniel. not too certain on the specific breed yet but i like the brittany spaniel!! she just has that dog energy and i feel like her being a hunting dog can represent her rivalries with other bladers, like taka and genjuro (ik she barely has any in canon but let me dream okay 😔)

6. Taka is a leopard or spiny gecko!! dont really have a proper explanation for this one it's mostly just vibes as well, but i feel like you could compare him being a small lizard that easily "sticks" to people and is very loyal to sakyo, who in a way is like a direct opposite to him.

7. speaking of, Sakyo is a maned wolf/dragon hybrid!!! you mentioning sakyo as a maned wolf lit a lightbulb in my head how does it feel to be so right. i feel like you can really dive into his identity as a descendant of the dragon clan with him visibly being half-dragon too yk. just in general it fits his supposedly menacing aura yet when you get to know him he's just silly and kind of a loser lmao. him and zyro's rivalry is so perfect too cause jaguars are the maned wolf's biggest predator! (plus imagining victoria as a really tall maned wolf 😳 like heeeey girl /j)

8. Kira is a wolfdog!! specifically a high content wolfdog (he has more wolf dna than dog). i chose wolfdog specifically because him being part dog really emphasizes his upbringing in dna to me, and how he still genuinely yearns for connection and a home. i like to think he just calls himself a wolf and ignores his dog heritage cause he doesnt want to seem weak or subservient, and eventually he learns to be proud of his dog attributes

i have more specifically for the rest of the dna bladers but i think ive written enough. hope you enjoy axel!!!!

AWAAAAAUUUUUUUU CHRIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSS IM CRYING REAL TEARS OVER THESE 😭💞💞💞💞💞

I’m too tired to be able to put all my thoughts abt these into full sentences but

AWAAUGGG. HAMPSTER. MARU. SO TRUE‼️‼️‼️

axolotl Shinobu losing full limbs and needing time to regenerate is so big brained you don’t understand (also fun fact I was briefly nicknamed axelotl so I have a connection with them that makes me particularly happy abt this one :] )

SEA OTTER UNABARASSSSSS 😭😭😭😭💞💞‼️‼️‼️ the little guys ever

DOGGIRL REN SO TRUE‼️‼️‼️ also her rivalries with taka and genjuro are very real and true TO ME I think about them soooo much

gecko taka forever 🫶 AND SAKYO OURGH!!!! lowkey kinda wanna draw his dragon maned wolf hybrid fursona (and also you are so right about maned wolf Victoria 😳)

ALSO. KIRA SAYING HES JUST A WOLF FIRST BUT ACCEPTING HIS DOG SIDE TOO LATER ON OURGH ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME /POS

[tigergirltail]

Past Self

It's been on my mind a lot as part of my Trans Journey, what if I had an opportunity to tell my younger self everything? What if I could gift her that insight and understanding twenty years earlier?

---

The door opens, and a crowd of children of various ages starts to walk in. Looking around at the rest of the gathered adults, I try to gauge their reactions. Some seem excited, others seem to just barely be holding themselves together.

I suppose when you're given a real opportunity to speak with your actual past self, it's hard to know what to say.

Most of the others look like they've chosen their clothes and done their hair to look as familiar as possible to their younger selves. Not me, though. I decided early on that if I was going to do this, I was going to go all out. No more hiding who I am. I had on my favourite purple and black dress, a simple necklace I'd picked out from a thrift store months ago, some elegant shoes with inch-tall heels, black lace fingerless gloves, purple nailpolish, I'd even made sure to do my makeup and refresh my hair dye for the occasion. Full goth witch look. …I should have worn a witch hat.

Gods, I'm going to be fucking unrecognizable to myself.

The first wave of kids have already found their future selves and are heading off to side rooms and sitting areas with them. I take one last steadying breath and look. If I know me, I'll be trying to blend in somewhere near the back of the pack. Unobstructive, anonymous, boring, and safe.

There I am. Bland, plain-coloured clothes, dorky haircut, and the eyes. I'll never forget how empty and dead my eyes used to look. He's standing around, awkwardly looking at people, trying not to have an anxiety attack, probably about ten seconds until he does.

I wait a moment for the crowd around him to disperse, and then I start to approach. Remember, confident, but caring. Don't scare myself off.

"Hey, kiddo. You look a bit lost, are you okay?"

He looks up at me, and pauses. A little surge of awe lights up his eyes. Even at that age I loved the goth look, I just couldn't find it in me to admit it.

"Yeah, uh…" He's struggling to speak. Maybe I overdid it.

"Looking for your future self, right?", I offer.

"Yeah, don't I… Am I…"

I have to brace myself to keep from crying. Of course he thinks his future self is dead. I thought way too much about suicide back then. Gods, didn't anyone think something was WRONG with that??

"I'm sure you're around here somewhere.", I reassure me. "What's your name?"

He hesitates before he answers. I have to suppress the urge to cringe when I hear my deadname cross my own lips.

"That's a good name." It's true, it was a good name. It just wasn't MY name. "It's been a while since I heard it."

That response throws him off. Here we go, now or never. Brace for impact…

"My name's Alexis, and I'm your future self."

Younger me's brain just… stops. He starts looking around, sure that I'm playing a trick on him, but all the other 'futures' have already met up with their pasts. It's just us two left.

"…But you're…"

I smile. Technically, I'm breaking every single letter of the Trans Prime Directive, but none of the 'pasts' will remember this as anything more than a particularly vivid dream.

"Yes, I am. And so are you."

She's standing stock still, struggling to process this. I see her eyes widen, and a little bit of light creep into them. That spark of life trans people get when we awaken. It hit like a truck for me, it must be even harder for her.

"No, I can't… But… But that's impossible!"

I reach out and gently take her hand. "It's… a lot, I know. How about we sit down somewhere and I'll tell you everything?"

She nods. She's gone nonverbal, I can tell. I lead her over to one of the open sitting areas, sit down with her, and try to project an aura of calm. She's staring at me intently, but trying not to look like it. It looks like I'll be taking the lead here.

"So, to answer the obvious question, I'm you in another 25 years, and yes, we're a girl." She's still struggling to process what she's hearing, so I continue. "The way we always felt more comfortable with other girls than with boys… The way we'd always stare just a little too long at a nice dress… The way we'd play with our hair in the mirror and imagine getting it cut to look like Cardcaptor Sakura… All of that meant something, something much bigger."

She's blushing now, burying her face in her hands, trying desperately to stop existing. Gods, I just want to hug her, but there's no way she'll accept being touched right now.

"You aren't going to learn this word for a while yet, but we're transgender. It's something beautiful, and it's a normal part of the grand spectrum of human experiences. There are lots of us out there, even in your time, and you're going to love being one of them."

When I said the word 'beautiful', I saw her peek out from under her hands. She's crying. That's probably a good thing.

"What… What happened to your hair??", she manages to ask between sobs.

I twirl some of the purple strands around with my fingers. "It's my favourite colour!", I answer happily. "I can't remember if it's yours yet…"

She's stopped crying, stopped hiding in her hands, stopped pretending she's not staring. "No, I mean… It's long."

Oh. Right. I smile, and silently laugh a little. "Well… Getting our hair cut sucks, right? So in about five years, you just… stop. You let it grow." I run my hand through it. "It's the first time we ever really feel happy about how we look." I see another little spark in her eyes. She's letting herself imagine. Maybe this will change something after all.

"S-so why are we… Why am I… What was that word? Trans…"

"Transgender?"

She nods.

"Nobody really knows the whys and hows, but basically, you're a girl brain in a boy body."

"But you look so much like a girl!"

"There's medical treatments for it. They can't do everything, but they can do a lot. Most of the rest is just clothing, hair, voice… You know, presentation." She doesn't know, but it's the best explanation I have in me.

"…Needles?" She looks a little nauseous asking.

"…Yeah, sometimes. They need to check my blood to make sure the girl juice is flowing right."

She suddenly gets really quiet. Poor girl still has a debilitating fear of needles. I should change the topic.

"We also have a job! And a romantic partner!"

"…Really?" She sounds more skeptical than curious.

"Yeah! Let me tell you about them…"

We spend the rest of the time we have talking about the life ahead of her. Learning to make costumes… Going to conventions… Getting into tabletop RPGs, meeting new friends, falling in love… Moving out east to find herself… Going to a college she genuinely loves… And the morning she's lying in bed and has that moment of grand revelation - the moment she awakens. The more I tell her, the more there's something in her eyes and voice that wasn't there when she walked in. Hope. Even if this all seems like just a dream to her, that hope might just become real.

It feels too soon when the alarm goes off for the three-minute warning. A temporal connection like this isn't sustainable for much longer. We pick ourselves up and make our way to the exit to part ways. She stops short of the doorway.

"…Promise this is all for real?"

I step forward and pull my past self, the boy I used to pretend to be, into a tight hug.

"I promise, it's real. You're beautiful, and you're brilliant, and you're going to mean so much to so many people."

She buries her face in my shoulder and starts crying again.

"I love you, Alexis.", I tell her. "And I'm going to be there for you."

We pull apart right as the 60-second warning sounds. I watch her leave through the open doorway, but as she turns back, I see something on her face that I could never quite do when I was her.

She smiles.

And in the year of 2001, in a warm bedroom, a teenage girl wakes up crying happy tears, and she doesn't fully understand why.

[thecrookedwriterspath]

Your characters are in a universe where they must dress color-coded. Who wears what?

Ah how fun! Thank you for the ask!

Since it's non specific, I'll pick Dragons and Kingdoms. I'm not sure if this color choice means personality or what color they like, sooo I'll just see how it goes lol

Graysen... I usually see him vibing with blue, but also he's VERY wallflower energy and anxiety through the roof. I'm going to say the kind of dark blue that's almost black. He is very different, and does his absolute utmost to try and hide that. There's a lot more to his thoughts and actions than what most people notice or care to understand, and he's just trying to get by.

Talwin wears red. I recently made the realization she dyes her hair red but it ends up being more mahogany because of her natural brown shade, and she uses beets when she can't get a hold of henna from the bigger markets with connections to the south. She loves to wear red when she can as well. She's also very vibrant and energetic! If a bit quick to anger.

Almyra wears white. (Those are her scale colors but says they gotta wear clothes so) She's a bit aloof, rather sarcastic, and likes to poke fun at those around her. She has trouble blending in outside of very specific circumstances, though she tries.

Keith wears brown. He's a normal guy, good humored, with a flair for the dramatic and pranks, but is ultimately reliable when needed. Earnest if over the top, and stubborn. Has a warm depth if anyone takes time to get past the first layer.

[bonesandthebees]

Okay, so I have caught up on No Time Confounds Me. (yes I’ve been reading a lot lately, I’m sick and I don’t have classes so I don’t really have shot to catch up on and I was kinda ahead of work before I got sick so I’m fine)

Anyway, normally I don’t read vampire stuff, I tried reading Nocturnal Animals and I got 3 chapters in and it’s really cool but my brain just isn’t slotting on so I doubt I’ll finish it. (In my defence, I already know how it ends so *shrugs*) My point is, I really enjoy ntcm. I love the world-building and the niche little interests (or is it the aesthetic? Like the drawing on the shoes and the pins.)

You are once again doing and amazing job with foreshadowing. The new vampires at the blood bank are Phil, Techno, Quackity and Schlatt. Tommy knows a lot about vampire stuff because he is one. Running away because you allegedly accidentally stole someone’s Claim would be a good enough reason to down half a black coffee in 1 go. The constantly being watched but only when Tommy is there so maybe Schlatt already knew, he just needed Wilbur there too. The news Wilbur manages to catch is about Tommy turning Tubbo. Tommy Claiming Wilbur as his brother because he Claimed him. Tommy’s attempt to dye his hair brown to be less recognisable. (Though if you don’t want to be found, bright blue is a terrible choice, Tommy!)

Most of these are little things that might stand out but can be dismissed and then they suddenly slot into place. Like you have a long build-up but I’m sure if I were to read it again that everything would make sense. Like it’s that writing thing where everything you write has to have a purpose. Seemingly random scenes all have a goal or make more sense when you get more information and it’s so cool to see you do that!

Also, I say allegedly accidentally, but unless his parents died by gunshot, I’d say the chance is pretty high Tubbo did get shot. That’s why Tommy jumps in front of him whenever he hears one because if he had done that for Tubbo he would not be in this situation. + the trauma of watching your friend bleed out and being faced with their mortality would make Tommy worried about losing Wilbur.

Also also, I am terribly worried about Schlatt, but I assume that of he were to purposely turn Wilbur against his will in some way it would go back to being a violation of human law (and there would probably be a lot of witnesses).

Also also also, (last one, I promise) does eye colour define strength? Does that mean the Phil and Tommy are stronger than everyone else or is there some other meaning?

-🌲

HI SPRUCE i'm so glad to hear you're enjoying!! I'll get to your stars asks soon I promise, but I'm saving them for after I finish no time bc answering those will help me get back into the stars headspace lol

in the meantime though, I'm thrilled how much you like ntcf so far. the aesthetic is my favorite part ngl. I always loved the pacific northwest aesthetic vibes combined with a lowkey punk look (ie: wilbur's leather coat, combat boots, pins) so it's been a lot of fun for me to set up scenes with that imagery and all that. I also love including small details like wilbur drawing on tommy's shoes and stuff. it just makes the world feel more alive to me.

you picked up on all the foreshadowing!! yup you got that exactly right. I was trying to make the first chapter seem like a normal relaxed vibey slice of life type fic, but with something obviously wrong going on in the distance.

also fun fact actually if you're trying to disguise yourself it's sometimes better to stand out. the point of a disguise isn't to blend into a crowd, it's to look like someone else. (I learned this from watching a youtube video with the CIA's former Chief of Disguise lol). so yeah, tommy trying to dye his hair blue wasn't necessarily him trying to blend in, it was him trying to look like someone who wasn't Tommy. but as I'll probably mention offhandedly in the next chapter, vampire hair is a bit different from human hair molecule-wise so vampires need special hair dye to change their hair color. hence why tommy's dye attempts turned out so shit lol

the thing about the Good Samaritan Law regarding Turnings is that it's really a legal bullshit loophole. if there were no other witnesses around besides the vampire and the person being turned, no one can prove that it wasn't a life threatening situation. so almost every single time without fail a Turning will get excused by the good samaritan law. also, a vampire will very rarely turn a human unwillingly because again the newly turned person can just turn them in. so the issue isn't turning people unwillingly. the issue is that it's illegal to turn humans at all even if they consent. the only time it's legal is if the person is literally on their deathbed. since vampires are immortal, the government wants to limit their population growth for obvious reasons. but again, it's such a loose law that all you have to do is make sure there are no other humans around when a turning happens and boom you can claim they were dying.

no eye color doesn't define strength. the eye color thing is literally just based off what eye color you had as a human. phil and tommy both had blue eyes, so their eyes get lighter and turn a more silvery color. techno, quackity, and schlatt all had brown eyes, hence why their eyes turn gold. being a vampire just lightens your eyes and makes them kind of shimmery, so it's just dependent on what your original eye color was and nothing else.

ty again so glad you're enjoying!! I'll try to get the next chapter out soon. I wanted it done to post today but I only got halfway through it yesterday sooooo oops. I'll try to finish it as soon as i can.

[honeycuttross7]

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[psychosassicvampire]

ok the people want details about the skate park au

@pixeliis​ @futuristicwormsociety​ come get your food

its all very fast and loose but these are a handful of my concepts [proceeds to unfurl a scroll about as long as todd is tall]

- yes dirk actually skates and he’s not tony hawk but he’s decent

- todd is mesmerized by this anyway because we are starting off on s2 levels of “dirk is so important to my life” adoration. in reality dirk is fairly awkward and dorky but todd just has sparkles in his eyes about it. also dirk has cool jackets which more than makes up for a lot of awkwardness especially in the eyes of your bi peers

- todd does NOT skate (yet). he takes an adolescent amanda to the park so she can skate because she’s badass and cooler than her brother and he sits on a bench nearby to draw or carve mindlessly into things or does some spray paint graffiti and tagging while he ‘babysits’ per their parents’ request. eventually dirk rolls around and befriends amanda as his fellow skate park buddy and todd is starry-eyed about him from afar. he secretly draws dirk in his sketchbook sometimes.

- amanda catches on to her brother’s crush and she keeps trying to set them up. she’s 11 or 12 and it becomes one of her personal missions. young girls are extremely tenacious in their goals. meanwhile todd is shy and has dreadful self esteem with both girls and guys so he resents this.

- dirk occasionally leaves his jacket with todd at the bench and asks him to watch it for him while he skates with amanda - dirk gets along with kids well. todd can almost never speak in response to his requests but he usually nods his head hopelessly about it. at some point dirk asks todd why he doesn’t skate too. he’s just embarrassed to try something new and says he can’t. dirk calls bullshit and takes it upon himself to teach todd and get him used to being on a board. they do have to hold hands for this sometimes. todd falls a lot. hence the pink bandages. amanda gets a habit of yelling “KISS HIM” across the concrete at random intervals of their nearness which todd apologetically waves off as his sister being weird, oh you know how sisters are, and please shut up amanda.

- neither of the siblings have pararibulitis at this time nor have either of them lied about it yet. they can skate and get injured to their heart’s content... for now.

- i have to credit theo @drawyourgunsr5​ for the basis of the family feud which adds our romeo and juliet flavor. dirk’s family has recently come over from england and are wealthy enough to have bought out the business that the brotzman’s parents used to work at, and they have since lost their jobs. the brotzman family has been falling on hard times for it since, and the parents resent the gentlys for it. when they find out dirk is a gently, and that he frequents the local skate park, they are furious. eventually the brotzman parents bar either of the kids from going back to the park, though todd blows them off and does so anyway. dirk hates his own family and their claustrophobic expectations on him as their heir and would rather run away and be a rebellious skater wannabe, spending ridiculous amounts of his parent’s money on leather jackets they dont approve of and spending time with the mall rat kids. so he is on tenuous ground with his own family.

- todd is 18 so he technically could just run away from home and the tension therein but he’s sort of a third parent to amanda because the parents have to work so much at various part time jobs to make ends meet they’re almost never around and he doesn’t want to abandon her.

- dirk could also run away from home and nearly has plans to, though his consequences for doing so would be costly. later on when dirk and todd are finally in the realm of acknowledging their crushes on each other under flickering lamplight on the concrete, still warmly radiating the heat back from the summer sun, dirk admits he would give up everything his family has to offer him, all of the money, all of the influence in high places, to be with todd, and that todd is the single most important thing that has ever happened to him (spoken with all the naive drama of tragic teens in love and also sound of nothing).

- todd isn’t so confident about a dramatic escape being the best move, and he’s especially not thrilled about giving up a potential for security. his family struggles a lot and in the back of his mind he knows he or his sister could have a pararibulitis onset attack any day, and being out of money doesn’t bode so well for any of that. he loves dirk for dirk, but he also knows that while money doesn’t buy happiness it sure as hell can make life more possible. he’d rather try to keep things copacetic with the families if he can, at least initially.

- they meet in secret often, and on one or more occasions dirk has climbed into todd’s window unannounced. separately, dirk has invited todd over to his place and had the bright idea they both climb in through a window there too, whereupon dirk tells todd to push his bum to make him go up. (his own house is harder to climb into and he is a fool.)

basically theyre obsessed with each other and theyre stupid and i was like yeah but what if our boys had more piercings and looked like they woke up after sound of nothing more often (because this look changed me)

and then i realized i could do what i want so i did and i am

thank you for attending my self indulgence

[astroboots]

Don't be a Tease

Summary: Santiago is an insufferable tease and Frankie finally gets to teach him a lesson.

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you) x Frankie

Warnings: teasing, hand job, frotting (cause I'm a whore like that), a lot of dry-humping (cause I am without shame like that), polyamorous relationship, really damned explicit M/M, blink and miss it hint of voyeurism, Brat!Santi (comes with his own warning).

Wordcount: 2,265 words

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

Frankie likes to think he's the sort of person who learns to live with the cards that are dealt to him. No point in acting like a petty child, kicking up a fuss and whining about how things aren't fair. Better to accept your lot and move on. But sometimes life is just really unfair. Case in point: Santiago Garcia.

One example? When Frankie waits longer than three weeks to cut his hair, it grows wild under his cap like weeds that spring up in all directions crowding a messy forest campsite that's been abandoned by civilization.

Santiago though? Santi’s just been dealt with a different stack of cards in life.

Since the man finally started making himself at home, he had foregone the regular bi-weekly haircuts to keep his hair trimmed and neat—a leftover habit from their common military days, even as he retired and went private.

Frankie feels conflicted about it.

Because on the one hand, of course he’s happy that Santi’s finally starting to settle in. That he feels safe and comfortable, maybe for the first time in his life, to plant roots and make himself at home with the two of you. That realization makes something glow warm and bright in Frankie’s chest whenever he sees Santi’s increasingly longer hair.

On the other hand, does the man have to make letting himself go look so fucking good?

His curls grow thick and rich. He doesn’t even bother with hair dye anymore, and at first you had been gleeful at the idea of getting to make fun of Santi’s ever increasing greys, never missing a chance to tease him about getting older. Frankie had planned to do the same. That doesn’t happen. Instead everytime Frankie sees those lustrous black locks with hints of gleaning silver against the temple, he gets a bit tongue tied. Whatever clever jab he had prepared flies right out of the window.

You like it too. Sometimes you will just zone out in the middle of a conversation staring at it, and Frankie doesn’t blame you. Never had a man made the concept of aging so damned appealing.

And then there’s that fucking beard. It’s been about eight weeks since Santi stopped shaving, and his beard is magnificent. Nothing like Frankie’s patchy one, and as childish as it is, Frankie can’t help the quiet jealousy at how full and luscious it is. To add insult to injury, Santiago looks so fucking good with a beard, and he knows it too, the bastard.

Frankie and you have known no peace in your home since Santi started growing it out. If the man was a tease before, it’s nothing compared to this new and improved and upgraded version that struts around your home like a peacock during mating season displaying his beautiful plumage.

The first time Santiago does it, Frankie’s unprepared. The bastard must’ve spotted Frankie in the kitchen after waking up from his afternoon nap.

Frankie’s just trying to mind his own business and do the dishes. The large lasagna pan won’t fit in the dishwasher, and his arms are elbow deep in dishwater when he can hear the languid footsteps approach.

Before he knows it, Santi is right there behind him, pressed firmly up against his back, chin on Frankie’s shoulder. Just observing the way Frankie's doing the dishes, as if pretending to inspect the quality of his work. Maybe if this asshole ever did the dishes, Frankie'd believe he knows half a thing about what it takes to do a decent job.

He picks up the blended scent of your soap and remnants of the warm Florida sun lingering on Santi’s skin, and it has Frankie lightheaded with want. Heat rises to the tip of his ears, and he knows from that all familiar tingle that his cheeks are flushed pink from it.

Santi must fucking love that.

With a lazy drag, Santi starts to rub his chin, grazing the beard against Frankie’s skin like some damned cat trying to scent mark his fucking territory. The soft bristles catch against the hair at the back of Frankie's neck. It's slow and deliberate, with a low raspy hum that drags on forever.

Santi just stays there, tucked against his shoulder, until Frankie starts to shift his legs, until the man must see the bulge starting to press against the front of Frankie’s soft pants. Then and only then, does he step back with a grin.

“Keep up the good job, Hermano,” he says with a comradely clap to Frankie’s shoulder. The smile on his face is insufferably smug, clearly proud of himself as he walks out of the kitchen and leaves Frankie with a seam-splitting erection that takes forever to go away.

Asshole.

Santi gets away with doing that all of once, without inciting Frankie’s retaliation. The first time it happened, the gremlin managed to catch him by surprise. But the next time (not even a week later), when Frankie hears the familiar shuffle of footsteps approach him, while he’s cleaning up the large roast pan by the sink—he’s mentally prepared.

Sure enough, it only takes seconds before Santi is pressed up against his back, all warm heat and soft hums. He’s wearing one of Frankie’s flannel shirts that still carries his own scent. Frankie never quite understands why that unwinds him in the way it does—beyond some long dormant caveman instinct in him that growls, mine.

And when Santi’s puffs warm soft breaths against the back of his neck, making every strand of hair tingle on its end, that fine tuned patience of his is on a knife’s edge about to tip over.

“Garcia. Do not test me.”

There’s a warm chuckle. Even if he’s unable to see the man, he can still hear the wide grin of a smile. “Yeah? Why not? You gonna do something about it, Morales?"

Of course, he’d say that wouldn’t he?

He drops the pan with a loud clank into the sink. Then turns around. The suddenness of his movement has Santi fumbling backwards. Frankie takes a small satisfaction in that–that he has managed to achieve the unachievable—catching Santiago Garcia off guard. That gratification grows when Santi’s eyes widen. The unguarded pupils growing impossibly large and dark. Frankie smiles as he takes that startled expression in one hand, then grabs Santi by the scruff of his neck and pulls him in, kissing him hard.

Disorientated as he is, Santi doesn’t manage to kiss back. Frankie would be lying if he didn’t admit to feeling a little bit smug that he has that effect on the other man. Santi’s mouth parts in a half-wrenched groan and Frankie dips his tongue inside, licking further into him until Santi's mouth opens of its own volition. It’s sloppy and messy, soap suds and dishwater getting everywhere–on the counter, floor and soaking the fabric of clothing between them.

Then it’s a push and a shove. Frankie uses his own larger body frame for leverage until he has Santi pressed up against the edge of the sink. He drags their hips together, clumsy and inelegant, every ounce of it desperate.

For what could be either a long or short time, Frankie doesn’t even know, they’re rutting up against each other like mindless animals. He loses himself in it until Santi finally breaks off to pull up for air with a breathless gasp. Frankie grants him all of two seconds, before leaning down to take his mouth again.

There’s a hard chafing grind against his hardening bulge, pressed into the divot of Santi’s hips for some—any friction he can find. But it’s not enough, not even close to enough.

His hand wanders downwards and despite the awkward angle Frankie just about manages to get his thumb and finger on the button of Santi’s jeans. It would be easier to coordinate his hands if Frankie was willing to stop kissing him, far easier to remove Santi's pants if Frankie was willing to allow an inch of space between their hips. Instead it’s a clumsy fumble followed by an impatient tug that shoves the jeans mid-thigh down Santi’s legs. Frankie just barely manages to unhook his own pants as well and shoves them far enough to free his straining erection from its tight confines.

Santi’s hardened length stands up in alert attention, the pink-flushed tip glistening eagerly with precome. Fucking Christ, he always forgets how pretty the man’s cock is.

He doesn’t know who initiated it. If Santi leaned up or he stepped forward. Though judging from how Santi’s pushed back, with the sharp edge the kitchen counter digging into his back and nowhere further to go, it was probably Frankie.

Santiago is just as much to blame though. He’s just rutting up against Frankie, rocking into him hard and eager, their cocks rubbing up against each other. It's obscene, wet and slippery, dripping with precome that at this stage Frankie doesn’t know whose it is–his or Santi’s or both. Every single nerve along his back is tingling at every long stroke of the hard line of Santi's gorgeous cock against his.

His hand snakes down between their bodies, down to where they’re both hard and throbbing. He wraps his fingers around them both, with Santi's feverish length jumping at the contact, and it practically scalds him. And Frankie swears to God, that feels so ridiculously good he might come from that contact alone. Has to still his hand and squeeze himself, tight, to make sure he doesn’t.

For a man who's favorite thing in the world is to tease, Santi's always impatient when it comes to his own pleasure, trying to roll his hips into Frankie's grip at a faster pace. Frankie almost wants to let him. Almost wants to thrust up fast and hard until he’s practically humping the man until they both come. But he can hold on to teach the man a lesson.

With greater restraint than he’s ever needed before, Frankie plants his other hand on Santi’s hip, pushing him back down against the edge. Then he’s leaning over and clamps down his teeth on Santi’s shoulder in warning.

“Don’t be greedy, Santiago. Stay. Stay still or I’ll stop completely.”

Santi doesn’t answer him with words. Instead his tongue darts out in reply, the pink tip, wetting his own kiss-swollen bottom lip. It looks puffy and tender, and Frankie is only a thread-snap away from leaning back in and biting down on it.

But Santi complies. He nods his head almost frantically, and then his hips go slack, entirely still against the counter.

Frankie takes his time. Palm skating along the side of Santi’s hip before he slowly slips his fingers over his twitching length, then slowly, almost lazily drags his hand over both their cocks in a languid stroke. Just the sight of it drives Frankie fucking crazy–the way they’re rubbing against each other, the shiny heads, slippery with precome, peeking out at every downstroke–and Santi isn’t far behind either. Unlike him, Santi isn’t looking. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut like he can’t even look anymore. Like if he does he might come on the spot. He buries his face into the crook of Frankie’s neck, and Frankie can’t have that.

His fingers threads into those silk-soft curls and he gives it a sharp tug, dragging Santi’s pretty face up to his gaze.

"No," he barks out. “You stay right here with me Santiago.”

And Santi whines. Fucking whines.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted me to touch you. You started teasing me because you needed me to take you apart, didn’t you? To make you come right here like this.”

Santi is ridiculously wet, just leaking everywhere, like he’s two strokes and a thrust away from coming and Frankie’s not far behind. It’s good, feels so fucking good.

But what’s even better is the way that Santi’s gone shameless and needy, starts to babble incomprehensibly the way he does when he’s so close to losing it. “Fuck. Shit. Fuck. yes. Jesus fuckin’ fuck! yes. Frank. Please.”

And Santi begging, pleading...

Right now, Santi is without pretense.

In this moment, Santi is too far gone from trying to constantly provoke him.

Frankie loves that version of Santiago. Loves that he can bring that man to his proverbial knees and make the most insufferable teasing, competitive person in the universe, surrender.

And that is exactly what this is: a surrender to Frankie. It’s obvious watching the man now, limbs trembling, barely able to stay standing as he ruts mindlessly into Frankie’s palm; eyes dilated with feverish need and desperation as he’s begging to come.

It makes Frankie want to give Santi what he wants. Makes Frankie forget about what a tease the man’s been and what he’s put him through. Wants to reward him with that release now when he’s being so good. Reward them both with it—

There's a sound from the living room, the front door opening then slammed shut, a chorus of contented barks from the dogs to announce that you’re home from your walk.

—Or maybe not.

“Guys, I’m home,” your voice calls out through your home. At the sound of your voice, Santi's eyes shoot up, and Frankie can’t help but smirk, a new and better idea forming in his head.

He leans down, brushing his lips against Santi’s ear with a low whisper. "Should I call her in here? Let her see how needy you get for me?"

Santi’s not the only one who can be an insufferable tease.

Dedicated: to my most beloved 🍑 👁 🐏@thirstworldproblemss whose milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they're like, "Damn right, it's better than yours, I can teach you, but I have to charge." —And I would pay all my worldly possessions and savings for your wonderful milkstoriesshakes! 🤡💖🤡

[txnjiku]

Timeline of Events [ 006 ] [ 007 -> ]

# Paring: 「bonten arc」 Sanzu Haruchiyo x 「gn」 Reader

# Status: Completed.

# Summary: Just the ‘oh so wonderful’ and chaotic life of Bonten’s number two and his lovely spouse.

# Table of Contents: Here.

It was that time of year when Sanzu’s original platinum roots started to show at the top of his head, like whipped cream on strawberry ice cream. Normally he would go to Bonten’s special hair stylists, but they were booked for the next couple of days.

Him, along with Ran and Rindou, were in need for some touch ups, the brothers blonde hair also peaking through the purple dye. And who else would they trust to fix their perfect hair? Why you of course!

When Sanzu asked for you to re-dye his hair, you agreed, seeing it was a simple job of just applying the pigment to his roots. But what you didn’t expect was him ushering you to one of his cars and driving you to an unknown penthouse across the city.

You didn’t ask questions to why you were being moved to color his hair, even if you could have easily done it in your bathroom. Well, that was until you heard two familiar voices even before reaching the room door, asking one another questions about what was where.

Your questions were answered when Ran opened the door, letting you see an entire set of dyes on the kitchen table, and the Haitani's tri-colored hair. Turning to Sanzu, you saw his lips in a fine line, the corners of his mouth pointing upwards. “I agreed to do your hair only.”

Sanzu locked the door behind him, sitting on one of the bar stools while finding the pink coloring that matched his hair. “They followed me here.”

“You brought me to their house.” You could only deadpan at him, watching the other two males in the room also sit down on the stools, waiting for their turn.

“... they’re gonna hold us hostage?” Your face held the same expression when you sighed at his words, walking to the counter to assess the ‘tools’ they prepared for you to use. Sanzu’s hair would be the easiest, seeing his was a solid color, but the other two, would be a different story. They just had to have streaks of darker color blended to the lighter one, but at least their original hair color was blonde so no bleach would be needed.

Deciding to do Sanzu’s first, you take the cape to cover his shoulders before putting on a pair of black gloves. Quickly glancing at the box dye’s instruction, you mixed it before moving to cover the platinum roots on his head. Only a few strokes of the brush and it was all covered.

He pulled you down for a quick smooch when you finished, flipping off the two brothers on each of his sides when they made noise of annoyance. You pecked his nose in return before moving back to the counter to figure out how to do the other two’s hair.

Thinking that you should leave Ran for last, you took the cape from Sanzu and placed it over Rindou’s shoulders before repeating the same process you had just minutes before, but with clean supplies. His was finished fairly quickly, but you couldn’t say the same for when you get to do Ran’s.

Rindou thanked you as you moved to work on Ran, and by this time Sanzu got off the stool to head to the shower to rinse the remaining dye off his head. Not before shooting a quick glance, followed by a quick remark at Ran. “Don’t flirt while I’m gone.”

Ran could only smirk in return, head tilting for added effect. “No promises.”

But that only earned him a smack to the back of his head from you, making Sanzu mimic the smirk that was practically smacked off Ran's face.

And once the bickering was over, you draped the cloth over Ran’s shoulders, before trying to figure out the best way to dye his roots. Starting with the lighter color, using the leftover from Rindou, you follow the light colored striped, continuing the color down to the root.

Once that was done, you started to mix the darker purple dye, getting it ready to be applied, but not without an interruption from Ran. “So ... who looks better, looks wise. Me or Rindou?”

As always, he must ask you questions like these, but they sure are entertaining, and Rindou and Sanzu, who came back from the bathroom with a towel around his shoulders, wanted to be entertained. And so, you answered him, honestly, much to Ran’s dismay, and Rindou and Sanzu’s amusement.

“Rindou.” Ran, thinking you were still holding this lifetime long grudge against him, thought you were lying, asking for an explanation as to why, the Ran Haitani, was quote, ‘uglier,’ than his younger brother. You were only telling the truth, so why not give him his wanted explanation. “I have a thing for guys with long hair.”

Ran only scoffed, but knew you weren’t lying, seeing that your husband had long hair for almost all his life. But that didn’t make him any less petty. And Sanzu could only pull you to his chest and plant a kiss to your cheek before telling Rindou to ‘back off’ which only made the younger brother raise both hands in the air in defense and go to the bathroom to also rinse the dye off his head.

With all questions answered, you went back to focus on the remaining yellow roots on Ran’s head. Just filling in the remaining yellow, careful to avoid the lighter, already dyed, stripes. Once you finished, you took the cape off his shoulders, telling him to wait for the dye to set in.

Now, you were lounging on the couch with Sanzu and Rindou, waiting for Ran to come out so you can see how well you did. Sanzu’s hair looked as good as always, his vibrant pink hair covering every part of his pretty face. Rindou’s looks good, seeing how simple his dye was as simple as Sanzu’s. But Ran’s was to determine whether or not you did good for a first time hairstylist.

And so, when Ran walked to the living room, you pulled his head down to your eye level, ignoring his pleas for you to release him from the uncomfortable position. You only ignored him, only admiring how well you did. Maybe you could be a hairstyle, well, only for Bonten since Sanzu is probably going to gatekeep you from the other executives, or maybe, show you off?