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gudvina · 3 months

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The things I do to keep you near.

Ship: Effie Trinket/Haymitch Abernathy

Fandom: Hunger Games

Chapter 3: Reaping day (or trying for a child)

Can also be read on AO3!

74th Hunger Games, part one.

The potential tributes were lined up in rows taking up the Square, the stage was ready, and the Mayor was already making his speech, but Effie couldn’t stop looking at the empty seat beside her.

Being late really hadn’t been her plan. She scheduled everything to the last millisecond, but a hovercraft malfunction came up. When she arrived in Twelve she was told there wasn’t time for her to retrieve her Victor, Peacekeepers were going to deal with that, because she needed to greet the Mayor. She’d tried to reason with the Head Peacekeeper to no avail. It was too late.

She didn’t trust others with him. Very well acquainted with his nightmares, the idea of him drunk and terrified as armed men barged into his house made her nauseous. What if he, in a drunken episode, became violent? She knew how to behave in such cases; get far away from him, let him gain consciousness of his surroundings, and never touch him.

But the Peacekeepers weren’t her. They wouldn’t know. They would arrest him, and she’d-

The Mayor finished his speech and suddenly Haymitch appeared, staggering onto the stage. He wobbled to the chair close to her, and the smell of liquor filled her nostrils. It was a terrible entrance, but better than him being arrested. She paled when his arms rose to hold her, almost knocking down her wig.

“This is very inappropriate, Haymitch” she muttered, escort smile still tight on her lips.

He mumbled something under his breath about marriage, but the Mayor called her name, and there was nothing she could do but walk up to the podium.

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour! Oh, I love this! It’s such an honour being here, on this fine day.” she beamed at the crowd and met grey faces everywhere. Admittedly, the clouds in the sky made her statement a little dishonest. It wasn’t a fine day.

The moment of the drawing came, and she sauntered to the bowls. She did this every year. She pulled a slip of paper and walked back to the podium, already opening the slip.

“Oh, our first tribute has a beautiful name! Primrose Everdeen!”.

She meant it. It was a beautiful, delicate, sweet name, and when she saw a tiny girl come forth, her hair styled in two braids, wearing a dress too big for her, she thought it fit her. She was pretty. So, so pretty.

“Prim!” a voice bellowed from the crowds. It was one of the older girls, quickly making her way into the crowd to reach for Primrose. With a sweeping motion, she pushed the child behind her.

“I volunteer!” the girl repeated twice more.

A volunteer in District Twelve? It was unheard of, probably the first time in decades, and she looked at the Mayor. The man’s eyes were fixed on the scene in front of them, Haymitch was out of it, and she realized it would fall on her to answer.

“Lovely! But I believe there is a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…” what was the procedure again? Why did nobody explain it to her?

“Why does it matter?... Why does it matter? Let her come forward” the Mayor’s expression was agonizing, and the urge to storm off was growing on her. This was why she was never late; everything went terribly when she did!

Her eyes fell on the Square again, and she saw small Primrose hold onto the older girl. She couldn’t hear what they said, and soon one of the boys ended up carrying the child away. The lady climbed up the stage, determined if a little stiff. Her hair was dark, her face angular, but what caught her attention were her grey eyes. They were a lighter shade than Haymitch’s, but resembled his enough that for a moment she was transfixed. As soon as she was on the podium, she snapped out of it.

Chin up!

The rest of Katniss’ introduction passed in a frenzy, the crowd raised their three fingers in a strange salute and Haymitch taunted the cameras, before falling off stage. He didn’t get up. Haymitch was unconscious and she couldn’t even check on him. The reaping couldn’t be stopped.

When the Peacekeepers took him away on a stretcher, she couldn’t wait to get over with it.

“What an exciting day!” she fixed her wig, still sporting her grin “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our boy tribute!”.

Effie marched back to the bowl trying to hold her wig in place, picked a slip of paper, and quickly retraced her steps. All she could think about was Haymitch on the floor, unconscious. It made her heart hurt worse than her face was.

“Peeta Mellark!”

From the crowd, a boy came forward. His hair was an ashy blonde colour, soft waves framing his forehead. His soft traits were tainted by a panicked expression he struggled to contain, and when he was close to the podium, she found herself touching his shoulder to guide him close to Katniss. He was very pretty and looked strong, and well-fed. Despite the disaster of a Reaping she had just presided, she thought that maybe this year Twelve might finally have a winner.

The Mayor finished his speech, and the Anthem finally ended, taking away with it her tributes.

“Well, Miss Trinket, I take you will move on to the train station?” asked the Mayor. It was polite small talk she would have usually indulged, but her nerves were frayed.

“No, I… do you have any idea where they took Mr Abernathy?”

“The clinic, I think”.

“How do I get there?”

“Well, it’s not too far. If you want, I can have my daughter walk you there”.

Not too far turned out to be, in fact, farther than she was comfortable to walk in her heels. Madge Undersee was nice company, though a bit reserved, but keeping a conversation was her forte so she managed. When they reached the clinic, she even kissed her goodbye Capitol-style, thanking her for the courtesy.

When inside everybody’s eyes were on her. She was received in a cold, stand-offish manner, and taken swiftly to Haymitch’s room. Twelve’s manners were atrocious, and if this had been another occasion, she would have reprimanded everyone in the hall. She didn’t have it in her, though. Her thoughts were filled with an unconscious Haymitch being taken away by Peacekeepers.

When she entered he was awake and lying in a bed, clearly annoyed by his situation. Seeing him relieved her immediately, and when she felt the nurse leave her relief was replaced with anger.

“Do you realise what you did in front of all Panem?” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down.

“Well hello, princess, where the fuck were you?! Weren’t you supposed to be here in the morning?”

“I have nothing to justify myself for, but for your information, we had a hovercraft malfunction that delayed my departure. When I was here it was already too late. I didn’t enjoy it any more than you did. In addition, I will not tolerate this language from you. We’ve not had a Reaping this bad since the 63rd edition!”

“Don’t get your wig in a twist, princess, it’s not like I was dying to have you here. You can go back where you came from.” he cut her off, sulking in his bed.

She sighed and sat on the visitor’s chair. The room was small, the paint was faded or in certain areas even cracked. She let her anger steam away, and she could see him do the same. His head wasn’t bleeding. He seemed alright.

“I think this year we might have a chance” she offered.

“Told you to stop getting your hopes up years ago” his voice was softer, and she relaxed.

“I know, but I have a feeling-“

“Usually it takes you a day to get attached, can’t believe you’re already doing this. I’m not drunk enough”.

“Oh, no, you have been drunk enough already! Don’t you dare touch another drink, Panem knows how your body might react after your concussion”.

“Not a concussion, sweetheart”.

“Whatever it was, not under my watch, Haymitch Abernathy!”

“Did you come just to shrill in my ear?” he asked nonchalantly.

“No, we have to go to the train station at once, and I will personally make sure you are tucked into bed when we get there”. She felt her blood rush to her face and was thankful for the white powder on it, she sounded awfully domestic. His smirk didn’t help.

“See, Effie, now I like the sound of that”.

“Don’t you get funny ideas; you were drunk and unconscious just thirty minutes ago and I’m still angry. I will not have sex with you”.

“That’s what you always say” he smirked, getting up with her help. Maybe she always said that, but this time she meant it.

“Only not to us” the boy lashed at his drink, flinging it on the floor where it shattered, wasting perfectly good liquor. His name was Peeta, or so he thought. Peeta stared at him with a stern look, and the girl beside him, Katniss?, was mirroring him.

He’d told them to stay alive and laughed, not expecting them to retaliate. But retaliate they did.

He’d needed that drink. It was the day after the Reaping and Effie was still avoiding him like the plague. Angry at his drunken acts and worried for his health she left him to the boy’s care. It brought him back to the 70th edition when she’d disappeared. He’d even tried to sneak into her bed, but she thought he was hoping for some action, so she kicked him out.

He needed her. What wife kicked her husband out when sick, anyway? Was this a Capitol thing?

Haymitch took a good look at the two in front of him and decided the best course of action was to remind them who he was. A drunkard? Maybe. But a Victor still.

He punched the boy’s jaw, knocking him from his chair, and turned to reach for another bottle. The girl took the occasion to drive her knife between his hands and the bottle, lodging it successfully in the mahogany table. Effie’s words made their way back into his mind. This was the first time any of the tributes showed anything more than a meagre will to survive, and maybe he could work with them. Maybe.

“Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?” he snorted, and saw the boy pick himself up from the floor.

Despite his usual reticence, he found himself assessing the kids. A minute later, in an uncharacteristic bout of hopefulness, he decided to promise them his help. All they had to do was not interfere with his drinking, and he’d stay sober enough to do what he could for them.

When the kids left the car he stayed there, musing. The boy was good-looking and charismatic but didn’t have the fire in him. The girl, instead, looked ready to fight. He could already spin a narrative, there, but decided against any more thinking. He got up and walked through the carts.

He knocked at her door, like he’d done a thousand times before, and heard some shuffling behind it before it opened. She was still in her pink satin gown, the one that stopped at her thighs, and her face was slightly flushed, if a little irritated.

“What is it, Haymitch?” she asked, only opening the door enough for her to peek at him.

“I promised the children I’ll stay sober to help them, maybe you weren’t wrong”.

“Told you so! And good for you, now go back to your compartment” she moved to close the door, but he put his foot down to stop her, a smug smirk on his face.

“You know, sweetheart, I am not drunk, I don’t have a concussion, and I’m sure I can do much better than your fingers, here” he pushed the panel open and made his way into the compartment, sitting on her bed. The sheets exuded her smell, and he was tempted to lean down to smell them.

Effe sighed and finally closed the door, turning towards him. Her golden, shoulder-length hair framed her face, accentuating the blue of her eyes, and her lips were pursed in worry. She was scanning him for any sign of ill health, but he was as well as ever and she seemed convinced.

She walked towards him and moved to sit on his lap, her legs falling on either side of his waist. He sighed and inhaled her scent, while her hands smoothed his hair, humming softly. It was a washed-out blonde colour, and she loved its length. Men in the Capitol wore wigs, and she’d never seen anyone’s real hair before Haymitch. Not even her own father’s. It felt different.

“I truly think this year we might have a winner” she whispered with her usual sing-song tone, softly pushing a few strands away from his face.

“I don’t know, but this is the first time I’m sure they might survive the bloodbath, and that’s… new”.

“New is good. Will you truly drink less?”

“I mean, it’s either that or a bunch of kids will try to kill me, and your fingers will melt off, so I gotta do something!” he smirked and heard her gasp. He earned a slap on his arm, but otherwise, she didn’t try to deny what she was doing.

“Well, you were sick, what was I supposed to do?” she pouted, softly grinding on him. The little minx.

“You know damn well I wasn’t sick” he grumbled, but the way she looked at him told him she wasn’t convinced.

“Sure, but I am not going to do this until we get to the penthouse. I don’t trust the children not to wander around”.

Haymitch sighed. He knew she was right. Peeta and Katniss seemed bent on sneaking around. Her usage of the word children worried him, it was something she used to do when she got attached; for some reason this year it started right after the Reaping, and he didn’t know how far she might take it.

“I’m already here, now, am I not?” he tried, his hand trailing up the hem of her skirt, hoping she’d relent.

“I said not until the penthouse, Haymitch” her voice was breathy, he could see her fight his pull, and it took all his restraint not to flip her on the bed and have his way with her.

“God, you’ll be the death of me”.

“Try not to die, I am willing to wait another few hours, not more than that. Anyways this year we also get a new pair of stylists!” she lit up, dispersing some of the tension between them.

“Yeah? No more Chip and Chop? What do we get this year?”

“Oh, you’re going to like them. Cinna and Portia are quite the novelty, you’ll see”.

“The only thing I want to see now is your naked ass, sweetheart”.

“Haymitch!” she reprimanded him, but laughed heartily and he delighted in the sound. It did things, to him, her laugh. It was a sound he heard rarely, and when he did it ripped a piece of him in smithereens and rebuilt it, making it new.

He smirked and let his hand wander over her body, noticing the way her breath quickened. It would have taken him very little to work her up and make her forget her resolve, but he saw her point, so he stopped at a little groping here and there. He could wait until they’d get to the penthouse.

And if he kissed her again, he figured he could not be blamed. She was his wife, after all.

#hayffie #haymitch x effie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #the hunger games #thg fanfiction #thg series

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 1 year

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👀 I have a reader and erik request. they have a cook off and it’s competitive that ends in a little smutttt please

Lemonade 🍋

Naomi entered the LIVE and set up her phone on her charging pad with the camera angling her small kitchen. Accept it, she typed in the chat after sending a join request. He wasn't new to this, he needed to pay attention instead of staring at himself on screen.

Naomi readjusted her own camera and fixed a blonde strand of her ginger money peice lace wig behind her ear making sure she and her area looked good. Her kitchen wasn't as big like Erik's but she knew how to throw down in it.

Glancing at her screen she saw that he was moving round his kitchen getting his space together same as she was. She had pans ready, fresh cuts of meat, and spices to rival any restaurant's collection.

The knock on her door finally came and she invited in the low-budget camera crew, recognizing a couple of the faces. They had to set up their camera and to ensure that her space was perfectly in the frame.

The comments kept coming, people ready to see a show. They did the work of boosting her. Team Naomi. These were the messages coming up over and over.

Erik had some produce sitting out on his island and was solemnly making a show of sharpening his kitchen knives to the 489 people tuned in.

"We're ready," a crewmember said on her end.

Leaning into the camera briefly, his face cracked into a grin.

"Naomi," he spoke. "Get ready to get ate up in this competition!"

He clanged the knives in challenge and she saw her face on the bottom square of the LIVE, stepping closer.

"I might be nice enough to buy you a kid's meal with my winnings if you play nice," she smiled petulantly.

He stepped back into his space to toss his two menacingly large kitchen knives into the air, catching them easily on their way back down.

"....Weird flex, but okay."

She could play that way. Pulling a paper cup from a cupboard off screen, she turned her back from the camera and tossed the cup casually over her shoulder. It landed upright directly in front of the camera and she spun smoothly to look at Erik's face as she tossed a grape, making the shot. He had the expression that said, not bad.

"Ready yet," she questioned in playful challenge. The comments were coming up fast. She didn't read them, but she saw them popping up along with the stream of floating hearts.

"Y'all know what it is," Erik clapped aiming stubby finger gestures to the camera. "Welcome to Kitchen K.O. where I go go up against a new person every week to see if they have what it takes to beat ya boy in a cook-off. If you ain't know, I'm the king," he paused for imaginary applause. "Heavyweight champ holding it down. Last week I had to show y'all. This week we got fresh meat, introduce yourself."

Naomi couldn't help thinking he was a fuckboy through the entire speech, the way he moved. He kept pointing at the camera, rubbing his hands together, smoothing his hair and rubbing his beard. Meanwhile she had a hand comfortably on her hip.

"407 where y'all at!? I'm Naomi. I been in the kitchen my whole life, I'll cook circles around this man and that's on Bo Peep and ALL her sheep."

"She think she finna take my belt. Love the confidence," he shaded. "BRING MY WHEEL." It was the infamous rainbow wheel with mealtimes and specialty options taped onto it. He spun it and all could see where it landed. "Y'all see it.. This the appetizer faceoff. NAOMI. Name three ingredients you got in ya kitchen."

"I watch this show every week, I came ready for yo lil games," she smirked watching his evil smile grow. "Cantaloupe, Black Olives, and Mustard. You better use them all too!"

"You ain't shit for that," he pointed. Naomi was a viewer long enough to pick up on the foods he hated. He had to send someone to go buy them. He was lucky she didn't say beets. She hated those right along with him.

"Y'all, keep him accountable," she demanded to the camera.

"Aight well yo three things are Cucumbers, Liver, and BEETS," he smiled.

"I ain't got liver or beets," she shrugged though she knew better. Of course, his team handed her both. A CAN of beets to make things worse. He looked so proud. "I'm not tasting this food," she joked.

"Don't. Better for me."

It wasn't a long wait for his shopper to return but he used the time to interact with his audience, asking them questions and responding to theirs. The second he got his materials, a switch flipped.

"Thirty minutes on the clock! Let's go."

For the first few minutes they each prepped while the cameras zoomed on their stations and hands, the crew commentating as if it were football.

"She gave me the worst ingredients," Erik complained eating up the comments. He was talking back to the opinionated viewers as he whipped up a black olive tapenade with black olives, anchovies, capers, dijon mustard, lemon juice and olive oil. "I said I hate it, never said I couldn't cook with it." He flashed an award winning smile cutting bread for toast.

Naomi had already put her bacon into the oven and minced the chicken livers to marinate in a bowl with water chestnuts, soy sauce, ginger, curry powder, brown sugar, salt, and pepper. She was now slicing her beets extremely thin.

"You quiet," Erik smirked as he seeded and sliced cantaloupe into consistent cubes. He looked into the camera. "You must be nervous."

"You.. like hearing yourself speak. I.. like hearing the fryer. Listen to that sizzle." The cameras zoomed to give the experience of being in the pan.

"Nah that slight tremble in your voice sounds way better," he teased. "What..," he squinted reading silently. "Flirting?! Y'all think I'm in here flirting?! I'm cooking. How was that flirting?"

Naomi snickered. He was a huge flirt on his show and that had extended to her. She knew exactly how to take his snarky jabs and send them back.

"We got him flustered y'all. He can't keep his eyes off us."

Team Naomi was strong in the chat.

"Y'all don't think she's looking at me," he squinted slicing prosciutto and assembling his melon skewers with a honey balsamic reduction. "I think she is and y'all missing it."

"You'd like that," Naomi smirked wrapping the liver mix in the bacon and returning it to the oven. "Just admit you like what you see, there's nothing wrong with it. I mean, you lack focus.. but otherwise..," she shrugged checkmating him. Grabbing her chilled smoked salmon she cut a few thin slices along with thick slices of cucumber. The cream cheese topping was quick and easy requiring cream cheese, Greek yogurt, dijon mustard, onions, and fresh dill.

She opened the door of her apartment to the familiar half of the iconic duo, the taste testing twins. "Orlando! Come in," she waved. He needed no introduction, the taste testing twins were a fan favorite.

"Naomi! I'm excited."

"Me too, this is fun."

"How long you been cooking and what's your favorite thing to make?"

"I've been cooking since I was 9, my daddy can throw down in a kitchen. I learned a lot from him, including a good gumbo. That's my go to."

"Gumbo. You hear that, Erik? She can take it to the bayou. You might have some competition when it comes to flavoring," said Ernesto, the twin on Erik's end.

"Nah," Erik frowned playfully. "Takes more than that to take my crown."

"We'll see! Naomi.. You've got all your ingredients but you still need to get it on the plate in 2 minutes. Will you beat the timer?" Orlando was tossing around seasonings like he was in a circus.

"Watch me."

"Oohooh! Erik watch out!" That was Ernesto.

"We'll see."

"1 minute," said Orlando.

"30 seconds, said Ernesto.

"TIME," they jumped together.

Erik and Naomi backed away from their dishes with hands raised and the twins swooped in to taste the plates. They each had refined pallets and had won about 18 culinary competitions between the two of them.

Their rating controlled the outcome and as they described the smells, presentation, taste, execution, and mouth feel of the dishes Naomi stood listening to the valuable feedback, confident in her creativity and flavors. After watching the show so many times, she had considered everything.

The competition was close, but in the end it was Naomi's game and Erik's head fell dramatically while her arms raised in victory.

"I don't believe it," he laughed, "Broke my streak."

"Believe it!" The twins were weebs.

"All that looking at my melons through the camera, your melon could've used that attention.. Oop!"

"Uh," Erik scoffed. "Baby your eyes were all over ME."

"Even if they were I can multitask," Naomi grinned pushing his buttons. Viewers were eating it up.

"Orlando you sure her food is all a that," Erik squinted leaning on the counter. "I can't believe it."

"I assure you!"

"You can come taste it," Naomi teased holding the plate toward the camera. Erik's eyes widened.

"Y'all don't think she's flirting with me?! It's cool, she took my title.. This time. Catch me next week same time with a new oponent. I'm a get my title back. Naomi?" He double pointed to the camera. "Thanks for joining me. Everyone in TV land, thank you for watching. We out!"

That was the end, it was over and Naomi had to clean her kitchen back up while the cameras packed up and left. She said her polite goodbyes and started her dishwasher.

"Hello," she answered her ringing phone.

"Congratulations, you use cashapp or venmo?"

"Both."

$500 in prize money was transferred.

"I'm curious how you beat me. That offer still open?"

"Of course! Bring your lil kids meal!"

"Cute! Gimme a lil bit to clean up on my end. I'll see you soon."

Naomi wanted to scream when she hung up but she sung a happy song instead, pouring herself a glass of sweet wine and dancing to her laptop. He came a little over an hour later and he brought his plate with him. Naomi reheated both hers and his and they had a private taste test between the two dishes.

"I win," she emphasized daring him to disagree, but he couldn't. He didn't even like the ingredients he was forced to use.

"It's the ingredients." He stood by that dead horse.

"Okay then, part deux. I dare you to go toe to toe with me right now. Best lemonade. I've got fresh lemons and tons of sugar."

"Oh let's go!"

Side by side in her small kitchen, they juiced and zested lemons with Erik searching for things to jazz his lemonade up. He used sweetened condensed milk and blended the entirety of the sliced lemon and lime to strain so she had to outdo him by making a hard peach lemonade, one that was pleasantly potent, refreshing and fruity.

"I love a woman who how to make my mouth water. You done got the donut peaches."

"Had to do it since you wanna break out the condensed milk."

"And I know it's juicy? Can I taste it?"

"The peach???" Naomi stared knowingly. He was nastyyy. "Of course," she licked her lips feeding him a super juicy peach slice with her hand. She watched his tongue as it swiped his lips almost getting her fingers. She sprayed a dollop of whipped cream in his mouth to finish. "How's that?"

"Damn, that's a juicy ass peach." He took the inch to go the extra mile holding the rest of the unused peach. "See.. there's a way to eat peaches, for optimal enjoyment."

"Oh I'd like to see.." She was watching his mouth carefully.

"The way I get the flavor is, I like to put my face in it, let it drip so I can lick it up like this."

"Mmm," Naomi found herself breathing deeply, her thighs squeezing together. "I like that.."

"Mm," he slurped. "Gotta be really juicy. If my face ain't sticky like this it ain't good enough."

"You wanna taste what I got?" Naomi had a hand on her pitcher and a iced glass for him, but that wasn't what she had in mind.

He wiped mouth on the back of his hand. "I'd love to."

He threw back the spiked peach lemonade and hoisted her onto the free-standing counter opposite the drink counter, latching his lips to hers and letting half the drink flow out into her mouth. "A good ass sweet peach and bourbon lemonade," he uttered pulling off her drawstring denim pants and blue satin panties with the cotton seat. He spun her by her legs to lay the long way on the counter and pushed back her thighs exposing her mound. "Hol'up." He splashed just a little from the pitcher on it, chasing the droplets around her skin with his tongue including the droplets that dipped between her folds. He licked between, spreading with his fingers, the taste of peaches still on his tongue while he repeated what he did to that donut peach in her presence. He could feel her heat and the texture of her arousal clinging to his tongue.

"Yess, eat it.. lick it all," she moaned holding onto his locs and popping his ponytail holder. "Oop," she looked down but he didn't seem to care, his tongue didn't skip a beat and he was delivering that pressure, slipping in a finger and then two. "Fuck!" She held on and kept her legs up and open breathing through the sensations and letting her orgasm build.

He hmm'd as he felt her let it all go completely. "Come on." He rubbed inciting another rise in her hips while his fingers pressed. "There you go." He gave her clit a slap and another rub.

"FUCK! I need a drink after that," Naomi laughed. She sat up and almost slipped on the small puddle on the floor. Erik was still behind her, she was able to braced herself on his back.

"Try mine," he handed her the same glass she'd given him with the ice.

"I know yours is good," she sipped. "Obviously." She drained the glass and kept eye contact while she unzipped his crotch and slipped her fingers in his navy briefs wrapping her fingers around his base, happy with what she found. She pulled it out and knelt down to slap it on her cheek, spitting on it and sucking the head, getting it wet. She watched as he slowly rained his lemonade from an above making a mess on her face and his dick. She began to throat him feeling him down her throat and drooling down his balls. It tasted amazing, like fresh lemonade. She continued to suck even after he nutted.

He didn't even make an attempt to hold back or last, he wanted to nut. Fuck No Nut November.

"You need to call me. Next time you making peach bourbon lemonade," he sighed wiping himself off with some kitchen paper towels.

"If I do, you better come over."

"My dick smell like citrus.." He sniff tested while pulling his pants up. They were wet like he'd spilled a drink.

"Least you know it's clean," Naomi beamed goofily pouring him a paper cup to go. She was still nude on bottom. "I'd give you the pitcher, but I like this one."

"No worries, this is enough, thank you," he raised the cup in cheers on his way out.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @nobodybaby93 @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @tgigoldie @sicksadgen @honeycoatedgld @thehomierobbstark

Naomi ripped some more paper towels to wipe up the floor. She'd have to mop so it wouldn't get sticky. And shower.

🍁 Fall in Love with Fall Masterlist 🍁

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #erik killmonger imagine #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction

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uuchanjustice · 1 year

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Ekubo Week Day 4 - Final Form

(Dimple, Mob and Tome, word count: ~700)

"Mob!!!" Tome burst into the office with windswept hair and her cell phone in her hand. "They're showing the ORIGINAL Aliens Vs. Zombies Vs. Salarymen at Fennel Theater tonight!!! They're gonna have snacks and sell keychains and it's gonna be so fun- oh, sorry, Mr. Serizawa..."

Mob was grimacing and gesturing at Tome to stop yelling, but she realized her mistake too late as the stranger in the office jumped out of his chair in surprise.

Serizawa smiled ruefully at Tome, then turned his attention back to the startled client whose cursed plushie he had just exorcised. "Sorry about that! She's my, uh, niece... so, 5000 yen?"

"You have to come, Mob!!!" Tome whispered to Mob as Serizawa ushered the client out. "This movie is the ultimate cult classic!!! Everyone says it's best experienced in a rowdy theater full of nerds! Who knows when we'll get a chance like this again??"

"Uh, Tome..." Serizawa returned to his desk and fixed the picture frame the client had accidentally knocked over. "It sounds fun, but... isn't it a school night? You should be responsible with your schoolwork..."

"I don't have any homework today!" Tome shot back. (It was half true... she didn't have any homework due tomorrow at least.) "And I bet Mob doesn't either!"

Mob nodded. "She's right, I don't."

"But that's not all," said Serizawa. "You also need to get a good night's sleep before school, and..." Tome tuned him out and sat down at her and Mob's shared desk, huffing. She gave Mob a Look that meant "we'll discuss this after work" and hoped he would understand what she meant.

---

"So there's something else," said Tome once she and Mob were a full block away from the office after closing. "We have to go with an adult to supervise us, it's the theater's policy or whatever. I was going to ask Mr. Serizawa, but apparently he's too 'responsible', and no way are we asking Mr. Reigen..." She took a deep breath. "I know you don't like breaking the rules, but we're gonna have to sneak in. We could maybe pass for adults with different clothes, I can-"

"Tome." Mob's voice cut through Tome's chatter. "I want to go. But we don't need to sneak in." He smiled. "I know someone who could take us."

---

"I still can't believe you never mentioned this," grumbled Tome.

"It never came up," responded Mob.

A seven-foot-tall, muscly green figure walked next to them, wearing a poorly fitting T-shirt and sweatpants bought from a nearby thrift store. Perched on top of his head was a wig of curly hair.

"Really, I'm more surprised that Dimple agreed to this," said Mob. "He usually doesn't like being asked favors..."

"Are you kidding?" Dimple waved a giant hand flippantly in the air, in a way that he would never admit was influenced by Reigen. "I'd never get in the way of you breaking the rules, Shigeo."

Officially, Mob and Tome were on a job with Reigen and Serizawa. Dimple had called Mob's parents from Tome's phone and done an impressive impersonation of Reigen to explain the situation. Tome's parents only needed a text. She was going to make a great adult one day; she was already living the carefree young adult life.

They approached the run-down theater. Most of the attendees were already inside, so they walked right up to the ticket booth and Dimple slapped the 3000 yen Mob and Tome had given him onto the counter. "Three for the zombies," he said casually.

The attendant looked at Dimple for about one second before deciding that he wasn't paid enough to ask questions. "Go ahead. Concessions on the left, no outside food or drink."

Tome skipped into the theater, dragging Mob alongside her. "Kids, right?" Dimple cracked at the attendant, who was pointedly not making eye contact.

---

Two hours later, the group staggered out of the theater, surrounded by teens and young adults hopped up on soda. Tome's eyelids were drooping, and Mob was clutching his stomach. "Why... did I eat... so much... popcorn..." he groaned.

Meanwhile, Dimple was as energetic as ever. "You were right, Tome," he exclaimed, clapping a hand each onto the kids' shoulders. "That was an unforgettable experience."

"Haha, just wait... the sequel is even..." Tome trailed off and slumped onto Dimple's shoulder.

He shook her gently. "Kid, wake up. We gotta get you home."

Mob gave him a Look that Dimple understood perfectly. He rolled his eyes and lifted the sleeping Tome onto his back. "You guys will be the death of me, I swear," he complained.

"But you're already-"

"Don't go there, Shigeo."

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #ekuboweek #ekubo week #mob #dimple #tome #its late i know...... but its here and its something!

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bramble-scramble · 1 year

Note

Okay as much as I'd hate to see the whole "irreversible" damage thing Bride mentioned with Spawny fixing Phantom's voice being canon I, really wanna see how you'd interpret that in story form-/nf

Ok, it was fun (but upsetting) to write Phantom being so unhinged. And this is my first time writing for Spawny, who I assume can talk now, just like the others.

Enjoy!(?)

Something from Nothing

Hunched alone on the cold floor, the little Rabbid huddled against the wall, tracing its rough stones with his hand, to distract himself by feeling something. He still wasn't sure exactly where he was, or how he had gotten there. He just knew he was very high up, in some kind of old structure, in a very frightening place. The wind outside sounded like wails of terror, and the thunder like shouts of anger. It made him want to cry; and he would have, if his strange eyes were capable of it.

He wished more than anything that Mama Peach was there, to hold him close and give him kisses on the head above his visor, like she always did. Or Beep-0, who always had such interesting things to tell him. Or even Junior, who'd become a good friend once he'd gotten over being such a jerk. He was so tough, and determined... he'd find some way to break out of here...

If any of the Heroes were there, they could make him laugh... he just wished he wasn't alone. Well, he wasn't ALONE- but he wished anyone else was here, except-

The door to the room flew open, and silhouetted in its frame was a looming, rounded figure. The tiny rabbid winced and drew back even further against the wall.

"Child," came the rasping voice of the newcomer as he drifted closer. "It is time."

Spawny bit his lower lip, before whimpering in his soft, childish voice: "W...what do you want with me?!"

"Why, you are here to FIX me, of course, child," came the reply. The figure was close enough to see clearly now, illuminated by the frequent lightning from the window, and Spawny's lens-eyes widened as he looked up at his own most complex creation; now his kidnapper.

But he didn't look like Spawny remembered him. His hair - was it hair or a wig? - had grown frazzled, its curls coming undone; his fine clothes torn, his white cravat stained with dirt, his eyes bulging even more than a Rabbid's usually did. The child didn't quite understand the desperation, the agony, written on every inch of the ghost's body and face, and audible in every strain of his broken voice. He merely understood that the Phantom had become far, far more frightening than ever before. He did not like him anymore...

"How am I s'posed to do that?" asked the boy, trembling.

"You tell me," said the ghost hoarsely, looming over his kidnappee. "You CREATED me. You made me what I am today, child. You created me with one purpose: to sing. And now I cannot sing. So FIX me, boy!!"

Spawny whimpered wordlessly. "WELL?" boomed the Phantom, his voice crackling.

"I... I can't just DO that," squeaked the tiny Rabbid. "I merge stuff... I can't just fix somethin' outta nowhere. Maybe if you brought me another one of those record player thingies, I could-"

"I don't WANT another gramophone, child," came the answer, as the ghost pointed at the device in his belly. "This one is me, and I am it. You will not be replacing any part of me. I am not a Ship of Theseus, thank you."

Spawny didn't know what that meant. He gulped and put a hand to his head; the headaches were starting to come on, and he felt his visor start to heat up slightly in turn. "Where... where are we, anyway?" he said, wondering if Phantom would just give up with enough distraction. "Where did you take me?"

"This is the Tower of Doooom. It is the place I have chosen for my dramatic rebirth, for my first new song. So GET TO IT, SPAWNY-"

"I'm SORRY," cried the little one suddenly. "I, I can't- I don't know. I DON'T KNOW!! I can't do it..." Pain surged through his temples, and he put his paws on the side of his head. "Ahh- AHHH- Mama Peach..."

Suddenly a manic grin spread across Phantom's face. "Do you really think she will come?!" he rasped. "To save you? Do you think she will come here, and I can sing to her once again?!" He picked Spawny up in his big paws and held him to his face. "HURRY, BOY, BEFORE SHE GETS HERE- I MUST SING-"

"No, NO!! I CAN'T, I DON'T KNOW HOW-" screamed the child, flailing, and suddenly his entire body glowed blue and his headset began to spark and crackle. A dizzying wave of pressure and pain started in his skull, then spread down into his throat- a blue pixelated beam shot from his eyes, and his... mouth... into his captor, filling his ghostly body with light. Still holding Spawny, Phantom looked down at his own transparent form to see his gramophone surrounded by the SupaMerge's energy.

Spawny's body went limp in Phantom's hands, his eyes closed as a small trail of smoke rose from the corners of his visor. The ghost sat the woozy Rabbid down, propping him against the wall once more, as he raised his arms and let out a powerful, perfect blast of song that merged with the shrill wind outside.

Momentarily, Spawny shook himself awake again. He noted the smell of burning, and put his paw to his visor. It was still very hot to the touch. But he was fine, so he thought... he could still sense that it was working. There had been no permanent harm done, as far as he could tell.

But how had he done it? He didn't even know that, himself. What had he merged with the Phantom, to give him his voice back?

His captor was at the room's large window, silhouetted by lightning, practicing his scales. When he noticed the boy was awake, he turned to him. "Thank you, child," he said, his face a wicked smile. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Although - I swear my range is slightly higher - and my voice in general, at that. You may have made me into an alto instead of a tenor..."

Spawny swallowed hard, and nodded. The overheating had made him thirsty.

Can I have some water- he wanted to ask, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out but a broken gasp.

#mario + rabbids #mario plus rabbids #alter answers #fanfic #the phantom #spawny

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isfjmel-phleg · 1 year

Text

Remember when I decapitated a doll with a detached neck connection? Good times. She's been sitting in the spare room for like five months waiting for me to do something with my life. Had a burst of energy tonight and finally decided to try the procedure.

(Headless doll pictures ahead, if that weirds you out, you have been warned.)

First, the body was prepped by wrapping it in paper towels to protect it from any glue drips. Then I wound old nylons crosswise from each other underneath the round connecting piece of the neck. These will hold the freshly glued head in place as it dries. There was a lot of old glue on the connector that I tried to remove so it wouldn't get in the way of the head when reattached. I blew a hairdryer over the old glue for a little bit to soften it. Some of it came off, some didn't.

Not pictured: hot glue is the recommended adhesive for this job. I have never used a hot glue gun before and was apprehensive about doing it. But it heated up and applied just fine, so then I had to heat the vinyl of the neck hole in the head to make it easier to attach.

I had removed the wig ahead of time to both protect it and make it easier to tie on the nylons later. To shield the eyelashes (and maybe the eyes too), the head was wrapped in a towel while I aimed the hair dryer at the hole. Hot vinyl has a bit of a smell, so I kept the bathroom fan on. It worked pretty well; a few minutes of heat and the vinyl was just pliable enough.

So I put the head on, twisted, tried to tie it in place...only to find that there was still a gap between the bottom of the head and the connector. The hot glue had already started to dry, and the head was adhering correctly. I had to pick off more glue and then tried to reapply. For whatever reason my glue gun refused to spout anything, and I finally took a break for dinner and a movie (at home).

Refreshed with frozen pizza and some late 70s cinema (both cheesy but delicious) and having googled info on wrangling glue guns, I returned to work. This time I let the glue gun heat up, tested it (it worked again!), and let it wait while I reheated the neck hole. Applied the glue, twisted on the head, tied the nylons as tight as possible, and now she sits waiting in some sort of weird timeout.

I will check it tomorrow to see how well it hold together. A large of part of me is apprehensive that the glue won't be strong enough, but we'll see. This is a learning experience. Once I get this procedure down, it shouldn't be too back to fix the other several broken-necked dolls.

If the head attaches satisfactorily, I will reattach the wig (tacky glue, very carefully) and my girl Amarantha will be ready to go! And the other OCs will be next. None of them (I think) need such drastic repairs, mostly just wigs, maybe some eyelashes.

#further steps in becoming a weird doll lady

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rosenallies · 1 year

Note

Would u write a little something sweet about Gia and Kendall helping synthia get ready for a show 🥺 just so gentle with their poorly baby even though she insists she’s ok 🥺

Crying </3 Ty for sending this!

——

"Gi," Synthia whimpered, lip wobbling as he came up behind Gia, tapping on their shoulder, makeup less than half done.

"Hey, what's going on? Are you still feeling okay? We can reschedule the show."

Synthia shook his head. "No, no, I feel okay-ish. I just, I need-" he paused, swallowing the embarrassment, "can you help me with my makeup please? My hands are too shaky."

Gia smiled softly, motioning for him to come closer, sit in his lap. "Of course I'll help. Do you want Kenny to help with your hair?"

Biting his lip, Synthia nodded. "Please."

"Ken," Gia called across the room, "can you help Synth out with his hair and outfit? I'm gonna help with the makeup."

Synthia wanted to cry, wanted to Earth to swallow him whole, maybe make him forget about the fact that his partners had to help him with so much, even something as simple as his clothes and makeup, something he used to love doing.

"Of course," Kendall agreed, walking past them and pausing to kiss the crown of Synthia's head, the fluffy blond hair tickling his nose.

While Kendall got to work fixing up the hair Synthia wanted to wear, Gia turned their attention back to Synthia.

"Do you want to do a pink eye look today, hmm? It'll match your dress."

"Okay."

Gia smiled softly. "You're gonna look so pretty, sweetheart."

Gia was always gentle with him, but the gentle tenderness in each stroke of a makeup brush made Synthia ache. There was a part of him that hated himself for asking for help. He felt as if he were burdening his partners and didn't deserve to be treated so softly, as if he were delicate, which he supposed he was.

He sat there in silence, listening to Gia hum under their breath until they glued on the second lash and sat back, admiring their work.

"You look gorgeous, my love. Ken, come in and help with hair and clothes!"

Kendall came around the corner in an instant, one of Synthia's favorite wigs restyled to perfection, along with a soft flowy pink dress. Synthia found himself a bit glad they were being so helpful, if it were left just to him, he'd probably barely be past the first steps of his makeup. Kendall was just as gentle as Gia was as he helped him into the dress then pinning the wig on lightly, not enough to cause any worse headaches.

"Are you ready to see?"

Synthia nodded and let Kendall guide him to the floor length mirror in their drag room. The moment he laid eyes on himself, he had to hold back tears. Gia did his makeup just like how he would have and Kendall did such a gorgeous job fixing up the old wig. For a second, he forgot he was ill and it felt as if he was just going to perform like always, but the glittery flats Kendall handed to him reminded him. The more he stared, the more he lost himself in his reflection. At a glance, he looked like the old Synthia, pretty in pink with the prettiest blonde hair he could find, but the more he looked the more he noticed the changes. The new paleness in his skin. He'd lost weight and it was obvious in his face. Even in his eyes, he saw how tired he was.

"I love it, thank you for helping," he said softly, plastering on a fake smile.

Kendall kissed his cheek. "We're so proud of you, I'm sure the fans will be so happy to see you on stage again."

Probably not once they see I can only sit there, he thought to himself.

"I hope so," he said instead, swallowing down the spiral that was bound to happen if he kept thinking, "I really hope so."

#sick verse #prompt request

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streetsofaesthetics · 1 year

Text

Sonia found out she was pregnant during flu season. And when someone coughs in your mouth during flu season in a PUBLIC AREA it makes your symptoms hard to determine. A friend of hers had suggested the idea that she was pregnant, but Sonia disputed it. Said it was just the weather. When she goes to the doctor, she learns she’s pregnant and immediately tells her friend she jinxed her.

But with that being said, Sonia took the news incredibly well. Better than Rosie would have, or Eve. Her logic was, I make ok money and I’ve been wanting a baby for awhile so this is great! Abortion never crossed her mind. People told her she needed to find out who the father of the child was but Sonia was uninterested in doing so. This was because the last guy she slept with was mobbed up and she didn’t want to bring that nonsense into her life.

Sonia became obsessed with the idea of having a daughter, she often compared her pregnancy to her moms when she was pregnant with Rosie. Craving certain fruits, her stomach shaped a certain way, sonia was sure her kid would be a girl and she swore that she was going to raise her to do whatever she wanted, to wear whatever she wanted, to play with whatever toys she wanted. Basically sonia thought, I’m going to see this as an opportunity to fix my childhood.

When sonia found out she was having a boy she was disappointed, visibly so. But she eventually came around. Decided stefani the second could be stefano, she felt Stevie was a cute American name, and if he wanted to wear dresses or play with pony’s that was fine with her too.

Approaching three years old, Stefano gravitated to boyish things. There were times when he asked for a pink frosted donut and he wanted a brunette Barbie once because it looked like his mom. He ended up cutting most of its hair before the year was over. Sonia did find herself enjoying to play with Stefano because he allowed her to tap into her masculine side whether it be in the stuff he wanted to watch, or if he wanted her to make voices for his figurines.

Before becoming butch, Stefano once told sonia that she was part mom, part dad and it privately made her cry. He saw no one else as being paternal to him, except for Sal but he was smart enough to know sal was just a uncle. When sonia asked Stefano if he would ever care about cutting her hair, Stefano was apathetic (before asking for his own haircut)

When sonia cuts her hair, Stefano is happy they look alike, because if he gets lost they’ll know who to take him to. He also finds the wigs she occasionally wears very amusing and tries to play in them.

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vegetalass · 4 years

Note

hcs of the gang being quarantined in one big house together maybe?? 🥺 lub ur writing

i lub u, anon!!🥺 sorry this took forever!

General

Oh my godddddddddd

They had to stop doing movie nights because there was too much fighting

They tried to set it up such that everyone got a turn to pick a movie but there were still complaints

Now, movies are viewed at random and the policy is that

1. The TV is first come first serve

2. You have to announce when you’re using it

3. Anyone is allowed to join you

This has stemmed into multiple people shouting “IM WATCHING _____” at random times

And yes, people will try to hide the remote (mostly Sean)

If they can find it, that is

The lines between public and private property have been blurred. Everything must be labeled or there is a chance someone will take it

You can risk it, but it’s not recommended since they’re all dudes and will most likely eat anything

And even with your name on a box of graham crackers, there’s still a chance someone will stick their hand it in and steal a few

All the dudes walk around in their Long Johns like it’s not awkward

They have to do their own laundry so everyone is missing socks

Or they have extras

And wet laundry is constantly being left on the ground if it’s unattended and someone needs the washer

Arthur

This dude double dips

He licks the spoon and puts it back in, too

Gets yelled at a lot for this, but never remembers to stop

Everybody is afraid to touch all of the dips now because of this

And Hosea has to start buying separate ones just for Arthur

He’s the one who takes 3 hour baths

I imagine that there’s multiple bathrooms in the house but not enough for everyone so there are definitely times when people are like “WTF, Arthur you’re still in there?” or “Where’s Arthur?”

Usually it’s Charles or John because they don’t mind sharing a bathroom with each other

Cue Arthur having accidentally fallen asleep in the tub

But yea he’s just chilling in there, otherwise

Started the quarantine off by trying to fix up the house… But immediately got lazy

There’s probably a number of things he keeps saying that he’ll “get to, eventually”

The only reason Dutch hasn’t called someone is because it’s a PANDEMIC

Technologically challenged

Barely knows how to turn on the TV and still uses an iPhone 5 that has pretty much stopped working

John has given up trying to explain how to make things fullscreen on YouTube

Because of this, probably spends most of his time wandering around the yard and reading or journaling

Tilly even bought him some scrapbooking supplies, which he’s been trying to use

Little washi tapes and highlighters because she knows it can’t get too complicated too fast

She also makes him an Instagram account so he can take photos or post art

But figuring out how it works is a losing battle, and he never remembers to use it, anyway

“I think we should get a pet”

Everyone: “Arthur... Do we look like we take care of ourselves?

If anyone tries to talk about how annoying the quarantine is, starts ranting about people who refuse to take it seriously

And the conversation ends up spiraling into him blaming capitalism for everything

John

Every other meal he eats is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or Doritos

He does that thing where he wraps a bowl or plate in plastic wrap so he doesn’t have to wash it

Doesn’t clean up after himself

Leaves used tissues, slimy butter knives with PB on them, and crusty socks laying around

Unluckiest of them all

His snacks get taken the most, the bathroom is always occupied when he needs it, never gets to use the TV, his laundry is always moved, etc.

Always ends up using the bathroom when there’s no toilet paper

Texts Arthur for help and then makes an announcement in the group chat about “common courtesy”

Nobody replies

His texts are full of messages to Abigail that all say the same thing

“Help.” + “Please come get me” + “I hate it here”

They’re all left on read except for the occasional response asking if he needs anything from Target

The list he sends back is like four paragraphs long and it’s all dumb stuff

He’s like “FaceTime me when you get there, I wanna go shopping too”

Doesn’t even really want to leave the house for necessities, so he has to do stuff like water down his soaps or steal other people’s toiletries just to prolong how often he needs to go shopping for himself

He’s the one using Irish Spring from the dollar store mixed with water or a block of orange Dial soap that hasn’t been touched in five years

Charles tries to throw away an empty hand soap and John is like “THERE’S STILL SOAP IN THERE LOOK” *mixes water with it*

Steals razors and Shampoo

Thinks conditioner is “unnecessary” and “doesn’t do anything”

Complains about being bored but doesn’t bother to do the things people that people offer

Charles

Voluntarily becomes a recluse

Not because he wants to but because everyone else is too annoying to deal with

He’s forced to start using the internet and when he’s not on the computer he’s trying to block out the noise of the 8 other men he lives with just living

Going on walks is his other hobby

Also probably buys one of those adult coloring books to color

Like Athur, Charles hogs the bathroom

It’s not as bad as Arthur since he’s not in the tub for the whole time but he really will spend an hour getting ready in the morning for absolutely no reason

If anyone asks about it he just tells them that since they’re in quarantine there’s no reason to rush

But he does get yelled at if there’s no other bathrooms available

Becomes a self-care connoisseur

Walks around in a bathrobe and face mask just to try and achieve some sort of zen

Literally the only one who doesn’t walk around half naked

Besides Hosea, the one of the only guys who tries to wake up on time and eat three healthy meals a day

The house is entirely dark and he’s eating toast while Hosea makes coffee

It’s awkward, not because they’re weird about each other but because no one else is awake and it’s quiet for once

Dutch is the third person up and Charles leaves the kitchen by the time he’s around

Gave up trying to do the dishes and only cleans what he uses

Sometimes if he feels like being nice he’ll do Arthur’s dishes, too

But only if he gets something back in return, like Arthur doing his laundry or something

The only one who changes his bedsheets on the regular

Him and Kieran are the only ones trusted by Hosea to leave the house safely

Micah

Everyone is surprised Micah isn’t dead yet

Everyone is constantly fed up with him for something or for just being irritating

And try to ignore him for the most part, which is hard

Tries to defends himself with “Well, you don’t have to bother me if you don’t want to”

Doesn’t clean up after himself, either

John leaves more mess, but Micah does worse stuff

While John just leaves his dirty peanut butter knives around, Micah does stuff like forget to put the mayo back in the fridge, leave the bread bag out and open, forgets to bring his used dishes to the dishwasher, throws his trash in other people’s trash cans, leaves his wet laundry in the dryer, etc.

If it’s annoying and gross, he does it

And tries to eat food that other people have made for themselves or don’t want to share with him

Dutch is the only one who shares with him willingly

Does not pick up his hair from the bottom of the shower

And doesn’t clean the sink after he shaves

Honestly, I doubt any of the drains in the house work properly because so much shaving goes on

It’s honestly surprising to everyone that he takes the quarantine seriously

Accuses people of being sick even though all of them have barely left the house…

Wears a mask inside when he’s feeling salty

He doesn’t even care about the mask, it’s just to make people feel gross and bad about themselves

Besides Sean, he’s always trying to hog the TV

And everything he watches is annoying, pretentious, or both

Complains about there being “nothing to watch” despite always having something on and refusing to stop

Tries to smoke inside and literally always get busted for it

Even if other people are doing it too, he’s the one who doesn’t even bother to be by a window when he does it

His room is always off limits

If you need something from him you need to knock and wait in the doorway

Also does the “You’re too close… Step back, please” thing

And if anyone gets mad, says it’s a pandemic and he’s just trying to be SAFE

Mostly does this to feel powerful

Turns in to Uncle Jr. with all the complaining and berating he does

Uncle is honestly offended

Hosea

The only person allowed to do the shopping

He gave up trying to give people lists because the groceries they came back with were never right

Either too few, too many, not the right stuff... You name it

See here for more

That’s why, despite being the oldest, he’s the one who goes grocery shopping for meals twice a week

Refuses to buy alcohol because of incidents that they’ve had

Can’t stop people from sneaking it, though

Similar to Dutch in that he gets annoyed when people oversleep, but because its quarantine, he tries to not mention it, and at the worst, gets passive aggressive

Tries to make a chore chart for people to follow but it gets ignored

He ends up having to force people to do things by reminding them constantly

He’s the one who starts opening people’s doors in the morning and turning on the lights

Makes everybody start eating on paper plates with plastic silverware because he’s tired of trying to make people use the dishwasher

Arthur doesn’t know how, John doesn’t put his plates in the right place, Charles refuses to since no one else contributes to keeping it neat, Micah doesn’t even know they have one, Kieran also can’t fill it correctly...

Basically, it’s too much for Hosea to handle

His dinners are all Costco pre-made meals that can be made quickly

Frozen lasagna and prepackaged salad type stuff

He’s the guy who falls asleep on the couch sitting up while watching TV and if you try to talk to him he says “I’m awake” without opening his eyes

And if he’s using it, don’t even think about suggesting to change the channel

The answer is and always will be no

Even when he’s not really paying attention

And it’s either on the History Channel or Discovery Channel

Always complaining about how cold his feet are

Doesn’t let anyone touch the thermostat

He’s an in real life Elf on the Shelf

Dutch

If anyone, and I mean anyone starts sleeping in, he gets in a really pissy mood

“While I’m up, doing work for you, you’re sitting in bed being lazy!!!” and “What do you mean you don’t understand why! Why should I have to tell you why wasting the day is annoying to all those who are working!”

Even despite this, he can’t actually change the fact that no one wakes up on time

And it’s not like the work he’s doing for them is very important

He’s the one who thinks that a pandemic is the perfect time to be or do something useful

Eat healthy, write a book, pump iron… Anything

And when people complain about being useless he’s like “You have all this free time!!!1! Stop complaining!!! You can do anything!!!”

And if he’s doing something he considers useful, yells at people who try to bother him

Arthur: “Hosea wanted to know-”

Dutch: *doing sit ups* “CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BUSY?”

When it’s his turn to cook dinner, he’s making 8 boxes of Trader Joe’s mac and cheese in a huge pot and calling a meal

Literally the only meal no one complains about

He won’t clean the pot when it’s finished, though

Literally just cooks and leaves it out for someone else to deal with

Another self-care aficionado

Also walks around in a bathrobe and face mask

He’s worse than Charles though, because while Charles wears pants... Dutch will be booty ass naked under his

Also keeps trying to make homemade masks and scrubs and walks around in those, too

He’s like “This is a good one, I can tell already”

Everyone: “Dutch... is that... mayo... in your hair?”

Annoyingly good at monopoly

Does not invite Molly over and gets yelled at over FaceTime

Cue everyone eavesdropping on their arguments

Goes on power walks

Yells at people when they listen to loud music with swear words

Honestly, always yelling at people

“Can somebody get me my slippers? Arthur? John? Hosea? AnYoNe!!!”

Kieran

Spends the least time in the bathroom because he’s afraid of getting yelled at

Does everything in five minute increments

Except for showers, when he allows himself ten minutes

Barely

Most of what he eats is just microwave popcorn and shredded cheese

He’s the one asking people if they want to go on “family walks” with him

Literally no one joins him

Also tries to play board games with everyone

This goes a little better at least because Hosea will sometimes play and if he’s there, a few people will definitely join

Very bad at monopoly

The most conscious about wearing a mask

The others wear them but Kieran is the one who wears double masks, gloves, and carries around Febreeze

Also will get mad if anyone forgets their “safety equipment”

Or if they’re within six feet of him in public

Props to him though for staying healthy

I’ve mentioned this before, but... Spends most of his time playing games on a big tablet wearing headphones

Candy Crush and FarmVille and Words with Friends and stuff like that

Though all of his internet friends are weird old ladies he doesn’t know

Everyone is mad at him for sending non-stop game notifications, too

Hosea is the only one who responds to any of them

He’ll never admit this, though

Also tries to start doing arts and crafts

Mary-Beth started telling him about the various crafts she’s been doing, so he’s started trying to follow along, too

Things like crocheting or popsicle stick art

His stuff all looks bad, but he’s just happy to be doing it

And to be FaceTiming Mary-Beth

When he gets to choose a movie, he’s picking a “family-friendly” movie like Inside Out or Lilo and Stitch

Everyone starts out being mad but they all end up watching the whole thing without complaining

Heated debates ensue, too

For example, like about whether Flynn should’ve cut Repunzel’s hair in Tangled

“YOU’RE GONNA LOOK AT ME AND TELL ME THAT I’M WRONG?”

Charles + Arthur vs. Dutch + Bill

Makes meatloaf or Hamburger Helper like once a week

They’re basically the only thing he knows how to make

Sides with Arthur when he suggests getting a pet

Wears a Snuggie

Doesn’t change his socks

Javier

Plays his own music very loudly and won’t turn it off or down if you ask

Either that or he’s practicing guitar

It’s not really that bad but when you can’t escape it.... People get mad

The only saving grace is that the singing is usually in Spanish so it’s not as bothersome

The door to his room is always closed

Refuses to open it

To talk to him, you have to knock and then he’ll exit

Dutch is the only one allowed in and he thinks Javier’s rules about entering are creepy so never does it

Javier cooks his own food and won’t share

Only makes enough for exactly one person so even if he wanted to, there’s not enough

Eats dinner in his room to prevent people from bothering him or asking for some

However, he has the biggest stash of quarantine snacks…

No one knows where he gets them

And getting him to share is like trying to do a drug deal, but he’s not against it as long as he gets something in return

He didn’t personally cook all these snacks so the rules are different

His room is full of scented candles to make it smell better since the whole house kinda smells like Boy

Buys a gamer chair at the start of quarantine

Claims it’s more comfortable than the office chair that Dutch and Hosea chose for everyone

Everyone is jealous

Wears fuzzy pajama pants only

Sean

Sean is the one sleeping in

Never sleeps in his bed and just falls asleep wherever, basically

Usually the couch

Because he’s always snoozing, he’s the one who watches the most TV

Micah claims this isn’t “fair,” despite doing the same thing

And even if he’s not watching TV, he’s just using the couch to watch Tik Toks full volume

Tries to make his own Tik Toks, but they either stink or no one wants to participate

Constantly having people get mad at him for recording them

Stopped wearing clothes the moment quarantine started

Always in a tank top and his underpants

It’s kinda weird

People cared at first but by now they can’t be bothered to complain since they’re

1. Used to it

2. Probably start doing the same thing

Leaves his laundry laying around

Also won’t share anything he’s eating

Gets mad when people steal food

Doesn’t address anyone in particular though, just walks around yelling about how “nobody has the common decency not to steal”

Has food delivered almost every other day

No one knows where he’s getting the money from, either

Everyone think it’s a waste

Mostly because he doesn’t share, but also because all hell broke loose when Hosea found out about an expense called “delivery fees”

Also has a stick up his ass about wasting food

Started yelling about this randomly, too

If he can’t force someone else to finish leftovers, he forces himself to finish them

Probably gets caught watching a certain type of nasty video a lot

Lowkey it probably happens to everybody at least once

Yells at anti-maskers

Tries to wrestle the other boys and gets his ass handed to him

Bill

Possessive of everything

Usually he’s not this bad but being cooped up with a bunch of thieves and liars doesn’t make him confident that his Circus Animal cookies will last very long

Doesn’t share anything and very adamant about making sure there’s labels on things so nothing gets mixed up

Also makes his own space in the fridge with tape

BILL’S SPACE DO NOT TOUCH

And will start yelling in anything is moved

Not as bad as Sean though because he only cares about his own stuff

The whole thing is super hypocritical though, because he definitely steals other people’s stuff

If he gets caught, claims “it’s only fair”

Hosea has to buy him soap because he won’t buy it himself

Definitely the one who learns how to make prison hooch with cranberry juice and yeast

And the one who eats all of the ice cream

Even the nasty flavors

Wears the same clothes everyday because since he’s not working, “they’re not dirty”

They start getting holes in them, though

If anyone tries to suggest something for him to do, he gets mad and claims he “knows how to entertain himself”

Also constantly accusing people of being in his space or business

Ends up starting a ton of fights over this and then complaining about how mean everyone is to him

He’s not doing it on purpose, though

Ends up buying some kind of gaming console to pass the time

If he buys an Xbox, he shares with the rest of the boys

If he buys a nintendo switch, he starts playing Animal Crossing and doesn’t put it down for weeks

Out of everyone… He’s the one who takes the pandemic the least serious

He follows the rules because he doesn’t want to be eaten alive by any of the boys, but he probably thought the virus was a hoax at first

He learned his lesson the first time he tried to go out without a mask and got locked in the car, though

Forgets to flush the toilet

His room is dirty

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 headcanons #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 #arthur morgan #HOPE U ENJOY ANON SORRY IM SLOW #and will probs continue to be slow #my car broke down at mcdonalds today LOL and by the time it got fixed mcdonalds WAS FUCKING CLOSED #i was so sad my mom actually ended up taking me to a different one #but they didnt have what i wanted LOL #but it was fine bc i was happy with just fries #also y'all.... my sink is fixed and let me tell u #I AM NEVER PAYING FOR A PLUMBER AGAIN #i took that bitch apart and snaked it myself #and enough hair to make a wig came out of it but she was fixed #and i saved so much money my mom bought me lunch as a reward #LOL #anyways i love u all thanks for reading hope this shows up in the tags and u like it #i hope i put enough!!#and lmk if i should republish in a new format #i keep getting scared to make a new post and not answer anon directly #oH WELL JUST CATO PROBLEMS #also went back to work and it was... fine i guess #idk #Anonymous

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 3 years

Link

“Elliot Page doesn’t remember exactly how long he had been asking.

But he does remember the acute feeling of triumph when, around age 9, he was finally allowed to cut his hair short. “I felt like a boy,” Page says. “I wanted to be a boy. I would ask my mom if I could be someday.” Growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Page visualized himself as a boy in imaginary games, freed from the discomfort of how other people saw him: as a girl. After the haircut, strangers finally started perceiving him the way he saw himself, and it felt both right and exciting.

The joy was short-lived. Months later, Page got his first break, landing a part as a daughter in a Canadian mining family in the TV movie Pit Pony. He wore a wig for the film, and when Pit Pony became a TV show, he grew his hair out again. “I became a professional actor at the age of 10,” Page says. And pursuing that passion came with a difficult compromise. “Of course I had to look a certain way.”

We are speaking in late February. It is the first interview Page, 34, has given since disclosing in December that he is transgender, in a heartfelt letter posted to Instagram, and he is crying before I have even uttered a question. “Sorry, I’m going to be emotional, but that’s cool, right?” he says, smiling through his tears.

It’s hard for him to talk about the days that led up to that disclosure. When I ask how he was feeling, he looks away, his neck exposed by a new short haircut. After a pause, he presses his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “This feeling of true excitement and deep gratitude to have made it to this point in my life,” he says, “mixed with a lot of fear and anxiety.”

It’s not hard to understand why a trans person would be dealing with conflicting feelings in this moment. Increased social acceptance has led to more young people describing themselves as trans—1.8% of Gen Z compared with 0.2% of boomers, according to a recent Gallup poll—yet this has fueled conservatives who are stoking fears about a “transgender craze.” President Joe Biden has restored the right of transgender military members to serve openly, and in Hollywood, trans people have never had more meaningful time onscreen. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling is leveraging her cultural capital to oppose transgender equality in the name of feminism, and lawmakers are arguing in the halls of Congress over the validity of gender identities. “Sex has become a political football in the culture wars,” says Chase Strangio, deputy director for transgender justice at the ACLU.

(Full article with photos continued under the “read more”)

And so Page—who charmed America as a precocious pregnant teenager in Juno, constructed dreamscapes in Inception and now stars in Netflix’s hit superhero show The Umbrella Academy, the third season of which he’s filming in Toronto—expected that his news would be met with both applause and vitriol. “What I was anticipating was a lot of support and love and a massive amount of hatred and transphobia,” says Page. “That’s essentially what happened.” What he did not anticipate was just how big this story would be. Page’s announcement, which made him one of the most famous out trans people in the world, started trending on Twitter in more than 20 countries. He gained more than 400,000 new followers on Instagram on that day alone. Thousands of articles were published. Likes and shares reached the millions. Right-wing podcasters readied their rhetoric about “women in men’s locker rooms.” Casting directors reached out to Page’s manager saying it would be an honor to cast Page in their next big movie.

So, it was a lot. Over the course of two conversations, Page will say that understanding himself in all the specifics remains a work in progress. Fathoming one’s gender, an identity innate and performed, personal and social, fixed and evolving, is complicated enough without being under a spotlight that never seems to turn off. But having arrived at a critical juncture, Page feels a deep sense of responsibility to share his truth. “Extremely influential people are spreading these myths and damaging rhetoric—every day you’re seeing our existence debated,” Page says. “Transgender people are so very real.”

That role in Pit Pony led to other productions and eventually, when Page was 16, to a film called Mouth to Mouth. Playing a young anarchist, Page had a chance to cut his hair again. This time, he shaved it off completely. The kids at his high school teased him, but in photos he has posted from that time on social media he looks at ease. Page’s head was still shaved when he mailed in an audition tape for the 2005 thriller Hard Candy. The people in charge of casting asked him to audition again in a wig. Soon, the hair was back.

Page’s tour de force performance in Hard Candy led, two years later, to Juno, a low-budget indie film that brought Page Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe nominations and sudden megafame. The actor, then 21, struggled with the stresses of that ascension. The endless primping, red carpets and magazine spreads were all agonizing reminders of the disconnect between how the world saw Page and who he knew himself to be. “I just never recognized myself,” Page says. “For a long time I could not even look at a photo of myself.” It was difficult to watch the movies too, especially ones in which he played more feminine roles.

Page loved making movies, but he also felt alienated by Hollywood and its standards. Alia Shawkat, a close friend and co-star in 2009’s Whip It,describes all the attention from Juno as scarring. “He had a really hard time with the press and expectations,” Shawkat says. “‘Put this on! And look this way! And this is sexy!’”

By the time he appeared in blockbusters like X-Men: The Last Stand and Inception, Page was suffering from depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He didn’t know, he says, “how to explain to people that even though [I was] an actor, just putting on a T-shirt cut for a woman would make me so unwell.” Shawkat recalls Page’s struggles with clothes. “I’d be like, ‘Hey, look at all these nice outfits you’re getting,’ and he would say, ‘It’s not me. It feels like a costume,’” she says. Page tried to convince himself that he was fine, that someone who was fortunate enough to have made it shouldn’t have complaints. But he felt exhausted by the work required to “just exist,” and thought more than once about quitting acting.

In 2014, Page came out as gay, despite feeling for years that “being out was impossible” given his career. (Gender identity and sexual orientation are, of course, distinct, but one queer identity can coexist with another.) In an emotional speech at a Human Rights Campaign conference, Page talked about being part of an industry “that places crushing standards” on actors and viewers alike. “There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we’re all supposed to act, dress and speak,” Page went on. “And they serve no one.”

The actor started wearing suits on the red carpet. He found love, marrying choreographer Emma Portner in 2018. He asserted more agency in his career, producing his own films with LGBTQ leads like Freeheld and My Days of Mercy. And he made a masculine wardrobe a condition of taking roles. Yet the daily discord was becoming unbearable. “The difference in how I felt before coming out as gay to after was massive,” says Page. “But did the discomfort in my body ever go away? No, no, no, no.”

In part, it was the isolation forced by the pandemic that brought to a head Page’s wrestling with gender. (Page and Portner separated last summer, and the two divorced in early 2021. “We’ve remained close friends,” Page says.) “I had a lot of time on my own to really focus on things that I think, in so many ways, unconsciously, I was avoiding,” he says. He was inspired by trailblazing trans icons like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox, who found success in Hollywood while living authentically. Trans writers helped him understand his feelings; Page saw himself reflected in P. Carl’s memoir Becoming a Man. Eventually “shame and discomfort” gave way to revelation. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” Page says, “and letting myself fully become who I am.”

This led to a series of decisions. One was asking the world to call him by a different name, Elliot, which he says he’s always liked. Page has a tattoo that says E.P. PHONE HOME, a reference to a movie about a young boy with that name. “I loved E.T. when I was a kid and always wanted to look like the boys in the movies, right?” he says. The other decision was to use different pronouns—for the record, both he/him and they/them are fine. (When I ask if he has a preference on pronouns for the purposes of this story, Page says, “He/him is great.”)

A day before we first speak, Page will talk to his mom about this interview and she will tell him, “I’m just so proud of my son.” He grows emotional relating this and tries to explain that his mom, the daughter of a minister, who was born in the 1950s, was always trying to do what she thought was best for her child, even if that meant encouraging young Page to act like a girl. “She wants me to be who I am and supports me fully,” Page says. “It is a testament to how people really change.”

Another decision was to get top surgery. Page volunteers this information early in our conversation; at the time he posted his disclosure on Instagram, he was recovering in Toronto. Like many trans people, Page emphasizes being trans isn’t all about surgery. For some people, it’s unnecessary. For others, it’s unaffordable. For the wider world, the media’s focus on it has sensationalized transgender bodies, inviting invasive and inappropriate questions. But Page describes surgery as something that, for him, has made it possible to finally recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, providing catharsis he’s been waiting for since the “total hell” of puberty. “It has completely transformed my life,” he says. So much of his energy was spent on being uncomfortable in his body, he says. Now he has that energy back.

For the transgender community at large, visibility does not automatically lead to acceptance. Around the globe, transgender people deal disproportionately with violence and discrimination. Anti-trans hate crimes are on the rise in the U.K. along with increasingly transphobic rhetoric in newspapers and tabloids. In the U.S., in addition to the perennial challenges trans people face with issues like poverty and homelessness, a flurry of bills in state legislatures would make it a crime to provide transition-related medical care to trans youth. And crass old jokes are still in circulation. When Biden lifted the ban on open service for transgender troops, Saturday Night Live’s Michael Che did a bit on Weekend Update about the policy being called “don’t ask, don’t tuck.”

Page says coming out as trans was “selfish” on one level: “It’s for me. I want to live and be who I am.” But he also felt a moral imperative to do so, given the times. Human identity is complicated and mysterious, but politics insists on fitting everything into boxes. In today’s culture wars, simplistic beliefs about gender—e.g., chromosomes = destiny—are so widespread and so deep-seated that many people who hold those beliefs don’t feel compelled to consider whether they might be incomplete or prejudiced. On Feb. 24, after a passionate debate on legislation that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ people, Representative Marie Newman, an Illinois Democrat, proudly displayed the pride flag in support of her daughter, who is trans. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, responded by hanging a poster outside her office that read: There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE.

The next day Dr. Rachel Levine, who stands to become the first openly transgender federal official confirmed by the Senate, endured a tirade from Senator Rand Paul about “genital mutilation” during her confirmation hearing. My second conversation with Page happens shortly after this. He brings it up almost immediately, and seems both heartbroken and determined. He wants to emphasize that top surgery, for him, was “not only life-changing but lifesaving.” He implores people to educate themselves about trans lives, to learn how crucial medical care can be, to understand that lack of access to it is one of the many reasons that an estimated 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide, according to one survey.

Page has been in the political trenches for a while, having leaned into progressive activism after coming out as queer in 2014. For two seasons, he and best friend Ian Daniel filmed Gaycation, a Viceland series that explored LGBTQ culture around the world and, at one point, showed Page grilling Senator Ted Cruz at the Iowa State Fair about discrimination against queer people. In 2019, Page made a documentary called There’s Something in the Water, which explores environmental hardships experienced by communities of color in Nova Scotia, with $350,000 of his own money. That activism extends to his own industry: in 2017, he published a Facebook post that, among other things, accused director Brett Ratner of forcibly outing him as gay on the set of an X-Men movie. (A representative for Ratner did not respond to a request for comment.)

As a trans person who is white, wealthy and famous, Page has a unique kind of privilege, and with it an opportunity to advocate for those with less. According to the U.S. Trans Survey, a large-scale report from 2015, transgender people of color are more likely to experience unemployment, harassment by police and refusals of medical care. Nearly half of all Black respondents reported being denied equal treatment, verbally harassed and/or physically attacked in the past year. Trans people as a group fare much worse on such stats than the general population. “My privilege has allowed me to have resources to get through and to be where I am today,” Page says, “and of course I want to use that privilege and platform to help in the ways I can.”

Since his disclosure, Page has been mostly quiet on social media. One exception has been to tweet on behalf of the ACLU, which is in the midst of fighting anti-trans bills and laws around the country, including those that ban transgender girls and women from participating in sports. Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves says he will sign such a bill in the name of “protect[ing] young girls.” Page played competitive soccer and vividly recalls the agony of being told he would have to play on the girls’ team once he aged out of mixed-gender squads. After an appeal, Page was allowed to play with the boys for an additional year. Today, several bills list genitalia as a requirement for deciding who plays on which team. “I would have been in that position as a kid,” Page says. “It’s horrific.”

All this advocacy is unlikely to make life easier. “You can’t enter into certain spaces as a public trans person,” says the ACLU’s Strangio, “without being prepared to spend some percentage of your life being threatened and harassed.” Yet, while he seems overwhelmed at times, Page is also eager. Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. “We know who we are,” Page says. “People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.”

Even if Page weren’t vocal, his public presence would communicate something powerful. That is in part because of what Paisley Currah, a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, calls “visibility gaps.” Historically, trans women have been more visible, in culture and in Hollywood, than trans men. There are many explanations: Our culture is obsessed with femininity. Men’s bodies are less policed and scrutinized. Patriarchal people tend to get more emotional about who is considered to be in the same category as their daughters. “And a lot of trans men don’t stand out as trans,” says Currah, who is a trans man himself. “I think we’ve taken up less of the public’s attention because masculinity is sort of the norm.”

During our interviews, Page will repeatedly refer to himself as a “transgender guy.” He also calls himself nonbinary and queer, but for him, transmasculinity is at the center of the conversation right now. “It’s a complicated journey,” he says, “and an ongoing process.”

While the visibility gap means that trans men have been spared some of the hate endured by trans women, it has also meant that people like Page have had fewer models. “There were no examples,” Page says of growing up in Halifax in the 1990s. There are many queer people who have felt “that how they feel deep inside isn’t a real thing because they never saw it reflected back to them,” says Tiq Milan, an activist, author and transgender man. Page offers a reflection: “They can see that and say, ‘You know what, that’s who I am too,’” Milan says. When there aren’t examples, he says, “people make monsters of us.”

For decades, that was something Hollywood did. As detailed in the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure, transgender people have been portrayed onscreen as villainous and deceitful, tragic subplots or the butt of jokes. In a sign of just how far the industry has come—spurred on by productions like Pose and trailblazers like Mock—Netflix offered to change the credits on The Umbrella Academy the same day that its star posted his statement on social media. Now when an episode ends, the first words viewers see are “Elliot Page.”

Today, there are many out trans and nonbinary actors, directors and producers. Storylines involving trans people are more common, more respectful. Sometimes that aspect of identity is even incidental, rather than the crux of a morality tale. And yet Hollywood can still seem a frightening place for LGBTQ people to come out. “It’s an industry that says, ‘Don’t do that,’” says director Silas Howard, who got his break on Amazon’s show Transparent, which made efforts to hire transgender crew members. “I wouldn’t have been hired if they didn’t have a trans initiative,” Howard says. “I’m always aware of that.”

So what will it mean for Page’s career? While Page has appeared in many projects, he also faced challenges landing female leads because he didn’t fit Hollywood’s narrow mold. Since Page’s Instagram post, his team is seeing more activity than they have in years. Many of the offers coming in—to direct, to produce, to act—are trans-related, but there are also some “dude roles.”

Downtime in quarantine helped Page accept his gender identity. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” he says.

Page was attracted to the role of Vanya in The Umbrella Academy because—in the first season, released in 2019—Vanya is crushed by self-loathing, believing herself to be the only ordinary sibling in an extraordinary family. The character can barely summon the courage to move through the world. “I related to how much Vanya was closed off,” Page says. Now on set filming the third season, co-workers have seen a change in the actor. “It seems like there’s a tremendous weight off his shoulders, a feeling of comfort,” says showrunner Steve Blackman. “There’s a lightness, a lot more smiling.” For Page, returning to set has been validating, if awkward at times. Yes, people accidentally use the wrong pronouns—“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Page says—but co-workers also see and acknowledge him.

The debate over whether cisgender people, who have repeatedly collected awards for playing trans characters, should continue to do so has largely been settled. However, trans actors have rarely been considered for cisgender parts. Whatever challenges might lie ahead, Page seems exuberant about playing a new spectrum of roles. “I’m really excited to act, now that I’m fully who I am, in this body,” Page says. “No matter the challenges and difficult moments of this, nothing amounts to getting to feel how I feel now.”

This includes having short hair again. During our interview, Page keeps rearranging strands on his forehead. It took a long time for him to return to the barber’s chair and ask to cut it short, but he got there. And how did that haircut feel?

Page tears up again, then smiles. “I just could not have enjoyed it more,” he says.”

#suicide m #transphobia m #Elliot Page #transgender #representation #celebrities #actors #tv #movies #rep #trans #transmasculine #nonbinary #queer #long post

2K notes · View notes

cherrykindness · 3 years

Text

wild tweets |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: as newlyweds, you and harry read thirsty comments for buzzfeed.

warning: it's thirsty tweets, so below there is adult humor 😳

"It's a bright, sunny morning in Los Angeles, and there's nothing I want more than to be on BuzzFeed and read wild tweets alongside my husband."

"Thirsty tweets, babe." Harry corrected, laughing out loud with the producers behind the cameras.

"Thirsty Tweets." You said quickly, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'm terrible at that, I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

"Let's take a break for one to two minutes. You've given us a great introduction, Y/N."

You shook your head, smiling shyly before turning to Harry, who was already watching you with that easy smile at the corner of his lips. You liked how his hand remained firmly on yours, making those circular movements with the thumb that always served as a natural medice for your anxiety.

"You look so fucking beautiful."

The pleated dress with flounce sleeves fit you like a glove. You had made peace with the various shades of white since the wedding and knew that Harry liked to see you in that color too.

"Thank you, you're not too bad either, Styles."

You intimately suspected that Harry would always seem far beyond that "not bad" that came out as a euphemism from your mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of bell-bottom pants in a strong shade of blue and a soft vest printed with fluffy little sheep on a striped American collared shirt - in your opinion, no one could look better in farm animal clothing than Harry Styles and Princess Diana with her red "Black Sheep" sweater in the 1980s. In contrast, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was arrogant and knew exactly how hot he looked - you also made your thoughts clear enough when you kept him backstage beyond ten minutes in a rather heated kissing session.

"Are you anxious?" you asked curiously, remaining with downcast eyes fixed on the strokes that remained assiduous on your warm skin. "To read about how the whole internet dreams of fucking my wife?! Of course." Harry joked, leaning over to leave a small one on your cheek. "We agree on that, don't we? Although I'm a little nervous, I'm really interested to know all the crazy things they say about you. Everyone knows you're mine at the end of the day, that's enough."

At the end of the break, you and Harry made a silent agreement that you should be the first to pick up one of the scattered papers in the red pot. There were quite a significant amount of tweets, and as much as you were used to reading rather sordid things about your husband on the Internet, the excitement was there as if you were wading into uncharted territory.

"I would be a good girl all year round if Santa guaranteed me a threesome with Harry and Y/N Styles on Christmas Eve." You laughed, Harry staring at the camera with an expression close to the meme of the surprised Pikachu. "You guys are incredibly nasty, I love it."

"If that was the first one, I'm really worried about the next ones." Harry commented with a little corner smile, picking the next tweet out of the bucket. "I have an entire folder on Pinterest dedicated to Harry Styles' hands, and let me tell you why: those hands are art, and art needs to be recognized."

"What- Guys, you promised you wouldn't post my anonymous tweets here." You quipped with false reproach, laughing at your own stupid joke while everyone else in the studio did the same. "But I can't blame her, honestly." Shaking your shoulders, you opened another piece of paper. "Harry Styles finally confessed that he wrote Watermelon Sugar for Y/N!!!! Are you guys imagining the same thing as me?!!!!!! 🥵🍆💦"

"Exhausted emoji, eggplant emoji, and water emoji?" Harry frowned, staring at the tweet you held up. "I imagine you're in need of a vacation somewhere refreshing and you're craving a fruit that everyone eats like it's really a vegetable."

"That reminded me of that story-" You laughed, hiding your face on the table as Harry continued to offer a poker face to the camera, struggling not to keep up with you laughter. "I'm sorry, lovie, I have to share this with the rest of the world." You stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eyes. "Harry always wears those fancy suits to concerts, right?! Right! Turns out he looks really hot in some, like his ass molds perfectly into those tight pants and everything. I was home that night because I wasn't feeling well enough to face the big crowds, but I was still following everything on twitter. It was a concert in London, not so far from where we lived at the time, so it was obvious that he would come home after it was over. I follow some portals that do really fast updates of pictures, videos, etc; everything that happened at Harry's concert was on my timeline in a matter of seconds. When one of these profiles uploaded a picture of him with his back to the camera in a heavily accentuated black and white suit, I quickly sent him the image along with a peach emoji and then wrote "looks good tonight". He didn't reply to me until a few hours later, of course, but I obviously didn't expect a "ready for a Fifth Avenue peach salad for dinner?" and numerous cutlery emojis."

Harry rolled his eyes comically, indulging in laughter as did everyone else who occupied the backstage area.

"I'm against the eroticization of emojis." He said between uncompensated breaths, shaking his head negatively. "Let's go to the next ones, please, I'm already feeling exposed enough here."

"I like your old-fashioned spirit, baby." You assured him with a smile, laying on the sturdy shoulder hidden under the fluffy fabric.

Harry chuckled low, leaving a little kiss on the top of your head before selecting the next paper. The fans would die when that video aired, everyone was sure. You two easily forgot the cameras when you were side by side, and the public display of affection had never been a problem.

"My life mission is to look at someone the way Harry looks at Y/N and be reciprocated the way Y/N looks at Harry, then I could die happy." Harry read. "That was very good and healthy, thank you!" He smiled. "But don't settle for death in that case, please. Just make sure to keep that person around forever."

"Awn, we got so sweet now." You made a pout. "Thank you for sending us something so cute! I really hope you find the right person soon." Sending a kiss to the camera, you moved on to the next tweet. "I wouldn't want to get a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's factory, I would like to get a golden ticket to actively participate in Y/N and Harry Styles' Honeymoon.

"That was creative, so I will disregard the fact that you removed my last name from my wife's name." Harry joked.

"I will always be an Y/L/N." You flashed the tongue. "We had a great Honeymoon, but I know you guys already know all about it because there are pictures all over the internet of outings that I don't even remember existed."

"Even though we chose a rather reserved city, many paparazzi still managed to photograph some of our nights there." Harry agreed. "There was one particular day when we opted to have dinner at a restaurant near the beach. Y/N had found it even before the trip, it was pretty laid back and we could spend the evening at karaoke. I don't really remember what happened, but we woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, still wearing the clothes from the dinner and with several headlines saying that I was cheating on my wife in the middle of our Honeymoon with a blue-haired italian girl."

"That wig made me sexy, man." You blinked, laughing as you remembered the situation. "It's a shame the paparazzi only got low quality images, but I swear I looked really amazing that night. Italy, I miss you."

"We're coming to the end and I haven't had to ask production for a glass of water yet, thank you to whoever selected these tweets." Harry raised his thumb to the camera, smiling before turning his gaze back to the small paper he had chosen. "Y/N could literally punch me in the face and I would just bow down and thank them for it." He laughed. "She has heavy hands, so I would rethink that choice."

"It takes strong hands to be a superheroine." You blinked gracefully, referring to your works as a Marvel actress. "I move around a lot during the night, so I'll take this lovely opportunity to say that twitter can dismiss all the malicious theories about Harry always show up with a new bruise all over his body."

"Please stop making indecent assumptions while Y/N is aggressive with me at night only unconsciously, her father has access to social media."

You laughed, clearing your throat before reading the next obscenity aloud.

"I would sell all my possessions to have Y/N sitting on my lap for ten seconds."

"Oh my God." Harry laughed out loud, throwing his head back. "I should have said that in our wedding vows."

You shook your head, laughing low as you set the tweet aside.

"That was pretty funny and cheeky, I approve."

"Okay, looks like we finally got to the last one." Harry announced, waving the paper in the air dramatically before opening it. "Harry could literally crush me with those boots while fuc- I need that glass of water." He said dumbfounded, hiding his face between his hands after throwing the tweet over his shoulder. You laughed out loud next to the organizers, and meanwhile Harry leaned his head on your bust, staring at you still with wide eyes. "Please promise that we will be careful with our future children on the internet."

#harry styles imagine #imagine1d #imagine harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry imagine

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authornina · 3 years

Text

Dalonte “DALY” Dennis: (TEK)

***THIS HAS NOT BEEN THROUGH A TYPICAL EDITING PROCESS; ALL SHORTS ARE ROUGH DRAFTS***

Daly shook his head listening to his sisters go back and forth about dumb shit. It seemed like they always waited until he came around to bring up niggas. He never intruded on their personal lives because he’d instilled enough in them to know what to do and what not to do. He had been on his own with them since he could remember. Daly was only ten years old roaming the streets looking for food to feed them. Life didn’t give him much of a choice to live another way. His mother left everything up to him, so he had to do anything to survive. At first it was just he and TJ, then two more girls came, and his mother literally dropped them off home to him. Daly cared for infants alone being just a baby himself.

They were on their way to the airport to pick up the baby of the three, Erie. She went away to college four years ago and this would be her first time back in Philly since graduating. They visited her a lot, but they were all happy to have her in the same state as them again. He was so proud of Erie for sticking it out and finishing college. At first, she would beg to come home. She even threatened to drop out several times. Daly spoiled Erie the most so during each one of her breakdowns he flew to Atlanta where she attended Spelman to talk her down.

All three of his sisters even being raised by him like straight niggas turned out to be great women despite their foul ass mouths and no-nonsense ass attitudes. People always said how pretty they were until witnessing one of them in action. Daly was a cool brother to have but he sometimes was too hard on himself thinking he could’ve done better with them and their emotions. He didn’t know how to raise children let alone girls but over the years he learned so much about women, more than he actually wanted to know.

TJ was the oldest and she owned a popular hair salon. She was the wildest and most outspoken. Daly had to bail her out of jail several times, primarily for domestic disputes with her lovers. She was openly bisexual and came out to him when she was sixteen, saying if Daly didn’t accept her for who she was, he could kiss her ass. Of course, no matter what he loved his sister. TJ was five-eight, with tan skin covered by tattoos. She had them everywhere. None of them knew their fathers and Daly assumed she was biracial off her features and TJ didn’t like that. So, the long curly black hair she once had as a girl which made her ambiguity more apparent was shaved off and she chose to wear all types of colorful wigs. She was beautiful either way with her natural hunter green eyes and freckled rosy cheeks. Despite her lifestyle and appearance, TJ went to church a lot. She’d been that way since she was just a child. Always telling Daly she had them all covered on the prayer tip, so they were good. She believed the Lord protected her big brother the many nights he had to go out and do what needed to be done for them. TJ had a huge and loving heart she just didn’t have the patience for bullshit.

Ta’Kia, whom everyone simply called Kia was the calmest when considering the three of them. She didn’t bother anyone unless they bothered her. It was a different story if she knew you though, you wouldn’t be able to shut her ass up. She went to college in state at West Chester where she met her white boyfriend that she stressed out regularly. Kia was also fair skin and four-eleven of feistiness. Daly knew whoever her father was had to be black. She had 4C hair and to him that meant straight nigga. He learned all about the different types of hair black women had over the years. He didn’t assume they couldn’t have loose coils in general, but his sister came from nigga nuts with the shit that sat on top of her head. Kia kept it in all types of natural styles. She was the earthy vegan type. No man-made chemicals could touch her person and she only ate what she grew. She wore very little clothing often, even when it was cold with beads around her waist, lots of rings on her fingers and she had two nose rings and a septum. Daly didn’t know where the hell that aesthetic came from but again, he supported his sisters through whatever.

Then there was Erieon, Erie for short, Daly’s baby. TJ and Kia didn’t give into her spoiled ass the way he did. If you asked them, their little sister was selfish, stubborn and plain old evil. Erie had a bad attitude, worse than all of three put together and never liked to admit when she was wrong. The only person she didn’t get out the way with was Daly. Erie was the surprise baby and the most beautiful little dark doll he’d ever seen when his mother first dropped her off. He fell in love with her the moment he had to take her on. By then he’d become an expert at caring for infants. Erie stood out because amongst her sisters she shined like chocolate satin. While her sisters rocked baldies and bushes, Erie loved box braids, and any other type of style that hung pass her butt in individuals. Everything about her was gorgeous. She was the most regular physically but personality wise, Daly had a time with that one. Sometimes he thought she had some mental health issues but seeing Lake go through so much and learning what he could, he swore his sister wasn’t that damaged. Couldn’t be. He simply gave her whatever she wanted and hoped it never went further than having temper tantrums.

When Daly was just a child, if it weren’t for Hassan, he and his sisters would be separated and spread out through the system. It was one of the reasons Daly was so loyal to Lake. Hassan made sure they never had to worry about being taken from one another. The house they lived in, he bought it and fixed it up. They had food and clean clothes every day. When his mother would try to come and interrupt the peace they finally had, Hassan made sure she didn’t any longer. Whatever bad shit people had to say about the late Hassan Porter, he and his sisters were blinded by the fact that he was the only adult to give a fuck about them. Even his mother’s sister didn’t offer a helping hand when she knew how they were living. Hassan didn’t ask any questions or want any answers. He saw a problem and fixed it. Never made Daly feel ashamed or embarrassed either.

Once at the busy airport, they didn’t even have to park to meet Erie inside. She was sitting outside on her luggage with an obvious attitude.

“Here her ass go with the bullshit,” Kia said getting out the car. She hugged her resistant baby sister while Daly kissed her cheek before getting her stuff. TJ didn’t even get out the car because she was the least interested in what had her mean ass mad already.

“What’s wrong, Erieon?” Daly asked once they were all back in the car.

“Nothing.”

“Erie! Stop bein’ a fuckin’ brat!” TJ turned around to her sister who was in the back seat now with her arms crossed and face balled up. “You always do that like somebody supposed to know what you thinkin’.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Erie, what’s wrong?” Daly asked her in a gentle tone making TJ and Kia roll their eyes.

“The flight was just annoying. I don’t like being around people.”

“I’m sure people don’t like being around your evil ass either,” TJ said. “I’ma pray for you on Sunday demon.” She held the cross around her neck then pulled out a little bottle and splashed Erie.

“Don’t put that saltwater on me!”

“You need Jesus!”

“TJ, stop,” Kia laughed. “Stay sprinkling people with your lil holy water.”

“She think cause she got baptized that she still not going to hell,” Erie said, wiping her face. “Newsflash, you eat pussy, that’s a sin!”

“Yo!” Daly yelled. “I don’t wanna hear that shit. All y’all shut the fuck up!”

Why did he say that? All hell broke loose. They started shouting obscenities his way and he blew his breath wishing he went alone to begin with. Daly loved his sisters to absolute death, but they were a damn handful. How anybody dated one was beyond him. Man or woman.

“Wit your big head ass!” TJ mushed him. “Don’t be talkin’ to us like that!”

“I’m stayin’ with you TJ,” Erie said. They were the two who got along the least, but her sister was the most freeing to be around and let her do anything. Even though she was going on twenty-three, Kia and Daly treated her like a baby.

“Then you better act like you know, I ain’t for the walkin’ around my shit with no attitude! And I don’t clean up after grown muhfuckas.”

“Why you don’t want your own shit?” Daly asked.

“Because I don’t wanna be alone,” Erie said low. “TJ lays with me when I need her.”

“I can lay with you,” Daly said.

“You never be home.”

Erie saying that made Daly feel bad. If he wasn’t there often it’s because he couldn’t be and when he wasn’t, they had to take care of each other. They didn’t intentionally make him feel bad about it, they simply were dealt a shitty hand. No mother and their brother couldn’t be around due to the fact that he was the provider. It all affected each of them in different ways.

“I lay with you too.”

“Kia, your bed bout as big as this back seat. Then you like to sleep on the floor,” Erie said, and they all started laughing.

Daly gave his sisters the range to live much more extravagant, but Kia didn’t want to. She liked her open space loft, mattress on the floor, no curtains, plants from wall to windows, three pairs of shoes and garden full of natural foods. TJ wanted to work for her own money, so she started a business. Erie was the only one who happily ran through his pockets like no tomorrow. He was okay with him being their backup plan if they ever needed or wanted it.

“Says the homeless one,” Kia rolled her eyes.

“By choice,” Erie retorted.

After Daly took his sisters out then dropped them all off, he stopped at his old apartment. His phone was ringing off the hook and the only calls he returned were Lake, Wreck and Roddy. Mansion called him about fifty times. When those went unanswered, the texts started.

Mansion: I know you with another bitch, since you wanna ignore me for her. Stay there, and don’t call me ever again with your hoe ass!

Mansion: Bitch ass nigga! You really wanna cheat on me? And I bet she don’t look like shit!

Mansion: I was fuckin’ somebody else anyway!

Mansion: I’m gettin’ a abortion!

Daly ignored each one. Mansion would say anything to get him to argue with her. At first it was funny, but now, he was a little tired of the constant back and forth. It was childish but that’s what he got for messing with a twenty-one-year-old.

“What?” he asked, finally answering for her.

“Put your bitch on the phone.”

“I ain’t wit no bitch.”

“Right, you a hoe ass liar! Come get me right now.”

“Fuck no! Go tell the nigga you was fuckin’ to get your crazy ass.”

“I was just sayin’ that,” Mansion whined. “I love you.”

“Obviously,” Daly responded sarcastically and they both started laughing. “You gotta chill bro.”

“My anger just get the best of me, you know I would never step out on you.”

“I’m not comin’ tonight, I got shit to do.”

“Like what?”

“Shit.”

“You lyin’.”

“When the fuck do I ever have to lie? If I’ma be with another bitch, I would tell you.”

“See that’s what I’m talkin’ bout, the disrespect! I’m not about to let you play in my face with no ugly ass hoe!”

“Who ugly, Mansion?”

“SHADIA!” she screamed, and Daly hollered. His on again off again girlfriend for years grinded Mansion’s gears. “You need to tell that dog face bitch you love me and it’s over.”

“I told her that.”

“Then why she still feel comfortable to go around talkin’ about my nigga? Why THE FUCK is she postin’ you on her Instagram?”

“I don’t know.”

“You know because you keep givin’ that hoe hope!”

“Ion give nobody shit,” Daly looked at his phone beeping. “Hold on, I’ma call you right back.” He didn’t wait for a response to click over for his sister. “Yea TJ?”

“Come get Erie before I fuck her up!”

“What she do that damn fast?”

“I comes the fuck in my room and her ass changin’ shit around in MY HOUSE!”

“You got it ugly in here!” he heard Erie yell in the back. “Everything don’t gotta be green!”

“DALONTE!” TJ shouted. “Come get your sister! NOW! Jesus be a high ass fence for Erieon…” she started her prayer for forgiveness then Daly heard a bunch of ruckus. He hung up on everybody tired of dealing with women for one day. It wasn’t even five o’clock yet. He got all the bags out of his trunk and went inside the apartment building.

When he put his key in the door Tracy was standing right there with an attitude. Out of all the bitch fits, he was least interested in hers. He didn’t tell his sisters about their mother staying there and that’s why he moved because it would upset them. TJ mostly. She hated Tracy to no ending.

“The fuck you standing there for waitin’ like you caught me cheatin’ or something?”

“Because you leave me in this place, alone! I ain’t got no phone, no communication to the outside world—”

“Man, fuck outta here,” Daly said, closing the door. “You lucky you got this.”

“I want to see my children, Dalonte!”

“They don’t wanna see you.”

Daly’s mother was a rehabilitated crackhead and ex-prostitute. He wouldn’t have offered her a place to stay but she was currently pregnant and had the nerve to tell him she wanted to do right for her baby.

“Well it ain’t they choice, y’all is muthafuckin’ kids to me! I don’t care what we been through! I am your mother!”

“You ain’t shit, Tracy.” Daly took all the bags in the kitchen. “Here, all the shit you wanted. Fuckin’ prenatal vitamins,” he threw them at her. “I know your ass ain’t do none of this shit with us! You want my sisters to see this shit?” He started pouring all the stuff out. “You got it in you to finally care about one of your kids.”

“He is y’all little brother,” Tracy said, palming her stomach with tears in her eyes. Her oldest child hated her so she knew it couldn’t have been any better with the other three but not seeing them for so long hurt her heart. When she came to him, he didn’t even care at first. They owed her nothing and as a mother Tracy wished she could take every ounce of pain she caused them back.

“I almost said fuck him too,” Daly laughed, and Tracy smiled. Her son loved her; she knew this because he could be really cold when he wanted to be. There had been times she’d been on the other end of it.

“I’m sorry for putting all of this on you, if I had another option, I would’ve chosen it. I know it’s not easy seeing me like this,” Tracy expressed to her son sincerely.

“Whatever, I’m out, I gotta go break up a fight between your kids.”

“Can you at least tell them I miss them?”

“I’ll think about it.” Daly closed the door in her face. He stood with his back against the door feeling the way he did when he was younger. So many times, she would even watch him struggle with his sisters. Tracy would be home while he was trying to figure out a way to provide for them. Here she was pregnant again with another baby and needed her son all over again. Déjà vu.

#OnUs #authornina #Nina

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bakugohoex · 3 years

Note

So I saw your add calling for us Jean simps and I have an idea for Jean like having a crush on a medical helper or something that deals with medicine

“you could always kiss it better”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: fluff, season three spoilers, kissing

word count: 1900+

a/n: hi, you guys like my jean stuff so here’s some more

summary: in which jean falls in love with the medical helper who is a part of the survey corps

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

It was never a dull day in the survey corps, the injuries that came in after the scouting missions had been increasing ever since the uncovering of Eren being a titan. You had been brought along on every scouting mission always prepared to help the wounded and being almost like a daughter to Erwin gave you some perks. If you could call them that, after your parents had died, Erwin had took you in and here you were in the Survey corps having graduated with the 104th but being assigned to the medical area.

It was of course what you had always wanted to do but you had joined on a whim and now after a couple months of the hectic survey corps. You had settled in sort of, Jean and Armin had had to pretend to be Historia and Eren and it was chaotic to say the least. Being on the run was hassle and you missed everything even the scouting missions outside the walls.

The only thing that made being on the run somewhat enjoyable was the brown-haired flirt, he had always flirted with you when you were both cadets. Nobody having really known how close you and Erwin were until the ceremony of where you chose which regiment you wanted to join.

They had all seen you hug the tall blonde and utter confusion had erupted from them, you told them all about it and Jean and you had gotten even closer. His head would pop in and out of where you stayed after being separated from the main corps. You spent a lot of time with Erwin but after the whole Reiner issue, you and others had joined the Levi squad. Making your time with Jean become a lot more than you had ever anticipated.

He hated wearing the wig and you could almost hear him scowl from beside Levi.

“Behind us look out.” Levi spoke falling to the ground as a wagon with one horse and three men sat upon it taking the bait.

Sasha misspoke but quickly spoke over self, you and Mikasa crouched beside Levi before Mikasa got up and ran. You could almost sense Jean’s frustration and being Eren and second time, you all had followed and were brought to a larger building.

Whilst you and Mikasa peeked through the window you could see Jean and Armin with a man who looked to be groping the blond. You both flew back to Levi who looked uninterested as usual. He spoke to Mikasa and you, you had barely been paying attention to their conversation only hearing his message to the rest of the squad. Your main worry was Jean and how you felt for him always ending up tied up. All you wanted to do was hug the poor boy.

Before you watched over what was happening, staying beside Mikasa you and her both having been strong enough to get in the top ten. You both had always been competitors but now working together you were both prospering.

“If you get the first two guys, I’ll get the other two.” You muttered as four men approached the warehouse. She nods taking out her gear, before you took your own out. You heard the men talking about getting the accurate men before you both pranced on the men .

Having both been behind a wooden container as soon as they walked past you both jumped out, taking the back two, you quickly knocked one of them unconscious whilst Mikasa did the same. You heard a barrel being loaded, before you both knocked out the other two. Both Armin and Jena having gotten out of their own restraints. They tied the two men down before you grabbed one of them, holding him down whilst Mikasa spoke.

“Connie are these four really all of them?”

You heard his faint yeah from one of the windows, you had looked up at the boy as he continued, “no one else in the area.” But hadn’t realised the sound of the man underneath you getting his gun out. At the sound of it you turned but an arrow swooped past you hitting the gun. You looked up seeing Sasha on top of the wooden container.

“Move again, and you won’t like where the next shot hits.” She spoke putting the arrow already through the bow.

“Alright, first we get these guys secured.” Mikasa stood in front of you, both having heard Levi’s words prior. “Then we meet up with the captain.”

“What do you mean?” Armin questioned confused out of his mind.

“Those are his orders.” You answered having tied the man up in the rope, watching him fidget under you.

“I feel disgusting.” Jean mutters on top of a guy after having gotten out of the restraints.

“Are you hurt?” You ask seeing his pretty hair and face., you moved closer to him to make sure he was okay not paying attention to anybody else.

He shows you some cuts that needed some bandages which you had but that was it. Sitting him down you see as Mikasa paces back and forth, knowing you wouldn’t have time to help him now.

“You’ll be fine for a little bit.” You grab his arm helping him up.

“Yeah yeah, Y/n, don’t be too worried, I’ll survive.” You both jump out of the building with your gear soaring through the sky as you see Levi swing past.

“I hear shooting.” Sasha says to Connie, “from there.” She points left as you stood beside Jean.

“Do you think they ran into some trouble?” He speaks not looking at you.

You look forward, “It seems likely.” You pause about to speak looking at Mikasa, “the captain gave us a message, as of now, it’s not just titans.” You see the shock on their faces out of confusion, “we’re fighting humans too.”

“Huh, you don’t mean.” Jean questions but both you and Mikasa fly away from them, going to see the chaos that was occurring.

Everybody follows in tow before Connie notices them, “look there they are.”

You see a bloody Levi swing through following the wagon, before noticing him being chased by men. “What the hell is that?” The question that ran through all your heads came out from Jean’s mouth.

All watching the murder and chaos occurring, “follow the wagon.” Levi speaks, both you and Mikasa nodding, you had seen too many people killed in your life. To be immune to shock in these scenarios, hell you’d killed people yourself, but it was all in the name of justice.

Following Levi’s command as he spoke about how they were trained to kill people; you listened and knew that you’d have to kill even more people. Going with Levi and Mikasa whilst Jean and Armin went to secure the wagon. You knew how life and death worked, and how the world was kill or be killed. But you saw at how Jean had hesitated to kill the person and Armin doing it himself.

You’d have to talk to Jean about it, not wanting him to be overtly upset or guilty about it. You easily slashed through more people, before seeing the men gang up on Armin and Jean, grabbing Jean you took his out of the wagon making him miss their gun shots.

You and the rest of the squad were back in the warehouse where one of the men who you remembered from Trost was. As Levi spoke you bandaged him up, making sure to take care of his wounds. The cut on top of his arm being stitched up with ease, Levi had been speaking to Armin and Jean. The sound of how he talked about being a killer, you had stopped paying attention to the conversation making sure Levi was fine.

He gave a thanks before you moved onto Jean, wrapping the cuts closed he watched as your delicate fingers did all the work. He had been speaking about killing people and you knew that inside he was feeling even more guilty than he should have. You both watched as Levi went to the man who you remembered from Trost. “Are you okay?”

You spoke moving onto his side which had been knocked into the wall when you had grabbed onto him. “I could’ve killed her myself.”

You felt the boy, putting your hand on his side to feel if there was anything wrong. “Jean, murder, it takes a toll on people, but after a while life and death, it’s all the same.”

He looked down in shock at what you had said, “life and death.”

“I’ve seen a lot of it in my lifetime and I know I’ll see even more, by humans and titans, we’re all the same, its kill or be killed.” You coughed out before seeing a bruise, “I can’t fix a bruise.”

He nods before you turn to hear the conversation with Levi and the man, talking about a plan, before you could join them for the plan to take place. “Y/n.” It a whisper but you looked up to him with bright eyes.

“Thank you again, we’ve been through a lot and I guess you’re something consistent in my life.” You nod at the boy, not being able to form words. The intimacy you had felt when touching his waist had sent shoots of fireworks up your spine, but you hadn’t said anything. Being as professional as ever and worrying about Erwin.

As quick as the plan had been told, you had easily knocked out the men and gained two of the MP’s with the man from Trost who you had consistently forgotten his name. You all waited outside the doors of where the torture was occurring, Hanje barging through you saw a sadistically look to do with human torture.

“You’ll be the one to have to fix them up.” Sasha spoke out, you nodded hearing screaming coming from below.

Jean was still wary about the situation and Armin talked about being killers, you didn’t speak up knowing he still felt guilty and felt like a bad person. All you did was give a sympathetic look to the boy; you leaned your head against your arms before feeling Jean’s hands move through your hair.

You enjoyed the sensation, enjoyed his touch and you craved even more from him, “I think I got a scratch on my arm; can you have a look?” He mutters over the screams and shouts from the man downstairs.

“Let me have a look.” You get up, his fingers still in your hair, whilst looking at his other arm, you see the gash, “all I can do is bandage up, I don’t have everything I need.”

He smiles as you take him away from the others, you both go to a different room before you bandage his arm up, “you could always kiss it better.” He smirks out.

“You’re such an idiot.” You mutter but comply, bringing the bandage arm to your lips, you kiss the bandage before kissing his knuckles.

It wasn’t intentional but you had a feeling everything was about to turn to shit, he looked up at you, grabbing your face in his hands. You looked up at the boy, the silence was unsettling with both of you just looking up at each other. “I’d kill…” You tilt your head in confusion, “I’d kill if it meant protecting you.”

You smile at the boy, closing the gap as you felt his soft lips attack to yours. It was slow and soft, a comforting movement, where you moved in sync. It was filled with love and as he brought your closer with his hand grabbing onto the back of your neck, your own fingers rubbed circles on his cheek. It was perfect and you knew that even with the chaos approaching you both had each other.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world

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tohruhondaismydaughter · 3 years

Text

Just had some headcanons about Machi pop into my head that I wanted to share with yall. So we know this poor girl struggles with "perfect"/neat things right? Well I was thinking about some healthy coping mechanisms she could develop to replace the whole 'breaking property/living in a dump' thing & here's what I got so far -

1. She always tries to wear odd socks (unless she's invited somewhere nice)

2. Ayame & Mine help her find cool asymmetrical stuff to wear, how to make clashing colours/patterns work for her & teach her how to sew up her old clothes in a more "punk rock" way (after Yuki & Kakeru explain some of her issues with perfection)

3. Tohru gently points out that she dosn't have to tie her laces the same way on both shoes if she dosn't want to

4. Haru & Rin (awkwardly on her part) teach her the power of acessorising (ie. wearing only one earing, putting on an uneven amount of bracelets/rings/necklaces, adding paper clips of different sizes & colours to your clothing & Machi later ends up adding stuff like buttons to her outfits/belongings as well which Haru & Rin are tottally surppotive of despite thier difference in style) & hair/makeup which (thanks to Yuki's advice) they make sure to keep slightly messy (Kimi laughed at it at first until Momiji made her feel bad after he told her that Machi had gone to the bathroon & wiped off all the make up & undid the hair style so Kimi bought her some limited edition Mogeta merch, after asking for Yuki's advice, in apolgey & started referring to Machi's new hair/makeup style as "punk chic" whenever anyone tried to mock Machi about her new look)

5. her & Momiji go on a crazy tie dying adventure (much to Hatori's grumbling & Mayu's amusement)

6. Kormaki gets her into collecting second hand fridge magnets which she then later uses in her work (my version of post-serise Machi is an artist) once the magnetism finally wears off

7. Kagura teaches her how to fix up old plushies (Machi likes creating Mogeta inspired characters) & gives Machi all her old cat ones to work on (Machi descides not to ask why Yuki's cousin was seemingly once obssesd with orange cats because she looks rather embrassed & a little sad when she hands over her collection)

8. Kyo reluctantly teaches her how to cook a few simple dishes (Tohru comes over as well & Yuki insists her food is better but Machi prefers Kyo's simple style of presentation so it's eventually descided that Kyo & her will do the cooking & Tohru & Yuki will deal with the cleaning which Yuki agrees to becuse cleaning is still difficult for Machi but Kyo says it's actually because no matter how much Tohru tried to train him rat boy knows he would never be able to do anything in the kitchen but burn water)

9. Kakeru teaches her the skills of 'excessive badge & sticker decorating' as well as giving eachother fake tattoos (Kisa congratulates Hiro on not saying anything rude to Yuki's girlfriend about her appreance after they first meet her)

10. Cuts her hair short (she delibretly makes it very choppy) once she enters university, where the rules are less strict about your apprence (at least it is if your at art college), & she also regulary wears diffrent coloured wigs (her favourites being a dark red one & a rainbow one) whenever she wants to temporarily change her appearance (beacuse she didn't want to commit to just one look, still wanted to have the ability to quickly "become invisable" again & she heard from Kimi that exsseive hair die-ing could permantly destroy her hair & scalp) it takes her until she's 30 to try out shaving all her hair off (she worried she'd look sick/crazy or not feminine enough) & everyone's really surppotive (though Kimi dose cry a bit, Rin & Haru aren't there when her hair is being shaved & Kyo is a slightly confused as he'd always thought women liked having longer hair then guys) especially Ritsu (who's growing out thier hair again) & they all throw her a big party (Haru & Rin are there for the party bit just not the hair removal bit because it brought up some bad memories) where Kakeru films it & posts it (with Machi's permission) & they give her cut off hair to a charity chosen by all thier followers (despite her disbelief Machi has manged to gain a small group of loyal fans from all her art stuff & her apprences on her loved ones social media), Kakeru also later uploads a video where they help Machi rainbow dye her buzz cut, (she later explores many diffrent types of buzz cut patterns such as flowers & geometric shapes but, at Kimi's insistence, gets them done by a professional)

11. She recycles & D.Y.I's like crazy (Momiji started singing Do Re Mi from The Sound Of Music after she told him that her new dress was actually made from curtains & Yuki cried when she gave him a little rat plushie made from felt, after he came clean to her about the curse)

12. She almost never wears an apron while working on her art because she likes getting messy

13. When her & Yuki go out to eat she loves things like fondoe (both the chocolate & cheese kind), eat N mess & is genreually just a fan of finger food & it becomes a tradition between her & Yuki (& later Mutsuki) to go on a stroll through the park after thier meal & (if it's autumn) look for piles of leaves to jump in (Machi & Yuki also like playing a game where they try to look for the weirdest looking leaf to give eachother & whoever wins gets to pick what they'll eat for dinner that evening & the looser has to cook it, Mutsuki is the "impartial" judge)

14. Machi is amazing at scrapbooking & collarge making (Tohru is more of a dream journal kind of girl)

15. When it's Summer her, Yuki & Mutsuki go down to the beach to see who can find the weirdest looking rocks (the less impressive ones often get used in Machi's art work, the coolest ones Mutsuki gets to keep & any that are too perfect get tossed back in the ocean & Mutsuki likes to score the splashes they make on how big/loud they are)

16. She loves helping Yuki out with gardening for lots of reasons (it's therapeutic & she loves seeing Yuki happy) but she can't deny it's also just fun getting muddy

17. Machi, thanks to Kakeru, devolpes a love of paint ball (but instead of using guns they just throw the paint at eachother like in 10 Things I Hate About You because apparently the gun pellets actually hurt) & will bring it up as an activity idea to her loved ones any chanse she gets

18. Decorates as much of her flat (& later her home with Yuki & Mutsuki) with Mogeta merchandise, random things she collects & her own art work as a big fuck you to her bitch "you have 0 personality/hobbies or talents" of a mother

19. Kisa (happily) & Hiro (reluctantly) introduce Machi to the magic of glitter

20. Machi & Rin eventually become proper friends due to bonding over being abounded by their asshole parents & one of the things they like to do together is work on thier seprete art peices while listening to music (Machi dosn't do any of her "aggressive" art, like plate smashing, around Rin though thanks to Yuki & Haru warnings)

21. When stuff gets to be too much & none of thier other coping strategies are working (like watching Mogeta stoned- which Kisa, Tohru & Momiji do not partake in) Machi & Haru bond by going to rage rooms together to destroy shit & scream (Haru obviously dosn't want Rin around for any of that though so Momiji, Tohru, Kagura or Hana will often take the opportunity to hang out with her, one time Yuki offered & it wasn't bad but it was definitely awkward as they had never really hung out without Haru before & Haru teases her for ages afterwards about her ending up liking Yuki once she actually spent some time with him which, like the precious tsundere she is, Rin will forever deny)

22. (I actually made a whole seprete post about this ages ago but now it seems to have vanished so in case other Machi fans are unable to find it l'll add it here) on the days that it's supposed to snow but dosn't Yuki takes her (& later Mutsuki) skating so she can enjoy scratching up the perfectly smooth ice (they would have gone on double dates with Tohru & Kyo if Tohru wasn't freaked out at the idea of having blades on her shoes & Kyo hadn't claimed to "not trust" ice, he's dislike comes from all the times Kagura had forced him to ice skate with her on the lake near Kazuma's place in the winter when they were kids, so they would instead go with Haru & Momiji - they had thought about going with Haru x Rin & Kakeru x Kormaki once but he proudly revealed that he'd been banned from thier local ice rink years ago for trying "perfectly safe" Olympic level stunts in he's attempt to recreate one of he's favriote episodes of Power Rangers, much to he's fiancee's anger, & Machi reminded Yuki that though Haru & Kakeru were fine with eachother Rin isn't reall able to stand Kakeru for longer than 5 minuites)

#fruits basket #headcanons #machi #machi kuragi #machi headcanons #machi kuragi headcanons #fruits basket headcanons

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

The Regular: Part 1 - Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you’re a dancer at a club, but that doesn’t mean you have to put on a show for everyone. Especially not if Geto’s paying.

word count: 2.6K

tw: nudity, small nsfw thoughts

Lipstick? Check.

Eyeshadow? Check.

Eyelashes? Check.

The eyes that stare back at you are your own, but for a minute, you’re lost in your own brown, doe-eyed gaze. Transfixed, you wish you could see what they saw when they looked at you. You wish someone would fix every mirror in your vicinity to display the person people thought you were. Maybe then you’d understand.

“Y/n!” The manager of the club - Mrs. Lampton - bursts through the dressing room door eagerly, pushing against the weighted frame with ease. “We have a lot of new faces out there. Are you ready to go on in ten?” The look in Mrs. Lampton’s eyes had never been brighter, and you blink at her twice, wondering if the woman had forgotten that you walked into the strip club without coercion, and you would do your job just the same.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” The rhetorical question makes Mrs. Lampton laugh, her amusement ringing out in the mostly empty dressing room.

“You’re funny, girl. I’ll make sure they play your favorite songs.” Without another word, she leaves, and you’re alone again, placing a single pastie on each nipple. New faces…

You hadn’t seen very many new people in the club since you’d been hired three months ago. It was always the same four men that came to see you during your weekday four o’clock shift, and a mix of the same faces during your ten o’clock dance on Friday evenings, when the club was full of men looking for an escape between the valley of your B-cups.

There was Aiko, the man who had completely given up on love and decided to get his affection from you when he got paid every two weeks with a simple lap dance. Then you helped Kohi with his fantasies: he had admitted to you that he could only fuck his girlfriend with his eyes closed and couldn’t think of anyone else except the girls in the club, you especially. Takeru was no different, just a little more handsy than you had originally expected when allowing him into the VIP room. And finally, you had the pleasure of meeting a new regular named Yuma just last month. Yuma was young, bright-eyed, and had a carefree attitude that also affected his wallet. Out of the four, he was the best tipper and admittedly, the sweetest… but those were your only four regulars.

The rest of the dancers at the club had at least enough regulars to count on both hands, but you were stuck with the smallest group. As such, you were given the shittiest shift, but you didn’t mind. The pay was enough to make up for rent and some extra expenses, but during the day, you were dedicated to working with your aunt in her flower shop.

You saw an array of men there, too, and the regulars there were almost as frequent as the ones here. Thankfully, this club was on the other side of town - the richer side - and you would go unnoticed in your ink black wig and heavy makeup in the dim lights.

You adjust your garters in the mirror, and slide the matching black lace bra over your pasty covered breasts. Tonight, there are new customers, and one of the new faces might potentially become a regular. Your regular.

You swing the door open and walk through the blue-lighted hallway to the carpeted space before the stage steps, watching the girl before you - a tall, thin blonde named Hannah - slide down the pole upside down, earning a few cheers from the gathered crowd. You don’t get to see her finish due to the obstructed view as you gather your towel and spray it with rubbing alcohol, but you do hear the DJ call her name as she exits. Hannah brushes past you without speaking, shaking her head at the wad of cash and solid red bra in her hands.

“Slow night?” you ask, and she turns around to face you, her blonde braid swinging over her shoulder. She raises a brow and then - in a rare show of kindness - mumbles:

“There’s a real spender in that crowd, but he wants nothing to do with me. Watch out for those blue eyes; they’re really distracting.” You whip your head back to look at the pole, your fingers tightening around the damp terry cloth. When you look back, Hannah is disappearing into the dressing room, too far gone to ask about the blue eyes comment.

Barefoot, you step up the stairs, and the DJ croons, “Next up is our loveliest newbie, y/n…” A slow song begins as you work your way around the pole with your towel, cleaning off any and all dirt and grime left behind from the previous girls with seduction. It was simple, really: twirling your hips and dancing around the pole was enough to make even the most stoic man soften. You were every man’s fantasy in that moment: a cleaning whore. When you finish your work, you find the cold, slick surface of the spin pole, and work your way up, feeling the pressure against the tops of your bare feet. It wasn’t unusual for you to leave with slightly bruised ankles or a “pole kiss” at your thigh. But it was all worth the extra money. Bruises faded away. Bills did not.

When you invert and grab the pole behind you, there is a sense of calm as you spin around like a siren, looking for the infamous blue eyes. It isn’t until you’re back on the floor that you see them - he’s across the room, eyes staring directly at you with white furrowed brows perched precariously above them.

As you keep track of the single dollar bills being deposited on the stage in front of you, you notice another new face beside him, leaning in to whisper something while his eyes flick away. When you fan kick around the pole twice, you see the face - black eyes and black hair in a half-bun - turn towards you with a smile. The smile isn’t innocent, but when were smiles in the club anything less? You return the smile with sincerity, finding the two men completely captivating.

But you have other customers to attend to; most notably, Yuma. His cherub face and tender green eyes are watching you from the bottom of the stage, his face in an entranced smile.

“Y/n!” he yells over the music, holding up a one-hundred dollar bill. You dismount from the pole and crawl on your hands and knees toward the youth, whose lips quirk up in a playful smirk.

“It’s good to see you here,” you breathe, dropping your voice an octave to seem more alluring. Yuma buys it hook, line, and sinker - as he always did - and slides the dollar bill between the garter and your see-through stockings. “See any good movies lately?” you wonder, letting him pet your leg tenderly.

“You’ll really like the newest addition to the Hanged Man trilogy,” he begins, eyes roving over your figure salaciously. Yuma hooks a finger around your garter and gives it a gentle snap; you huff out a laugh before rolling your neck around. “I’ll take you to see it, if you want.”

“That would be so nice,” you purr back, arching your hips until he can practically feel your ass pushing into his hand. “I would love nothing more than that.”

“I’ll buy a dance tonight and give you the details.” Yuma knows his time is short and waves a hand over your spine before retreating, his eyes staying with you as you unfurl from the floor. You have no intention of meeting Yuma outside of the club, but you have to admit that if you hadn’t met him in here, you probably would have attempted to pursue him.

A fast song means that you’re coming to the second part of your three-part dance, and your fingers make quick work of your pointless bra. When it drops to the ground, you can feel eyes drawn to your unclothed upper body grinding on the pole. Your eyes flick back to the blue-eyes man in the corner, and you find he’s alone staring at his phone in the darkness.

Why is he even here? you wonder, hooking a leg around the metal before swinging your back leg up. As you swing around with your head leaned back, you catch his handsome companion at the bottom of the stage, arm muscles rippling under his white button down. He’s counting his money, you realize, and take that as a sign that he might be beholden to making a generous donation. It isn’t until he holds out two hundred dollar bills that you stop, and he places it on the stage, patting it twice. You make your way back over to the stranger, eyeing him carefully under your heavy eyelashes as he leans in to speak.

“Very generous,” you note, and he gives a sheepish smile as he tucks the bills into the side of your g-string. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“You can call me Geto.” His voice, calm and strong, washes over you like a burst of fresh air, and you notice he doesn’t seem nervous at all, despite appearing shy.

“You can touch me,” you offer, but he places both hands back on the stage, staring into your eyes.

“I’d rather do that privately. How much for a VIP room with you for the evening?” Your eyes flick to Yuma, who is happily downing a drink at the bar and settling his tab.

“I… have one dance I have to --”

“He hasn’t paid yet.” Another one-hundred dollar bill slides across the stage. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Another bill. “All of this,” Two more bills. “for one night.

Six hundred dollars. That was three times as much as you made on a regular night.

“And take this off.” You think he’s going to tug at your lingerie, but instead, he tugs a strand of your wig, and you frown.

“I…”

“Your real hair is brown.” He offers, raising his brows as if to challenge the denial working its way up your throat. You are a brunette.

“P-pay the red-haired lady at the bar. Tell her you’re requesting the VIP room with me,” you stammer.

“I’d rather make sure all the money makes it into your pocket.” Your mouth dries up, but you have to finish your last song. The man notices your nerves, and jerks his chin at you slightly, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “No worries. I’ll see you in there.”

As you’re wiping down, you feel your chest constrict slightly. Takeru and Yuma were the only ones who had actually been in the VIP room with you, but that had only been twice in your three months there. They had paid the bare minimum - two hundred dollars - to see you fully naked, touching yourself in front of them and allowing them to spread you bare for observation. There were no holds barred in there except fucking, but if this man could afford to drop three times the amount it cost to reserve the room for himself… Mrs. Lampton would most likely let him do as he pleased. For a moment, you consider Yuma being disappointed and downtrodden that you couldn’t give him at least one lap dance before the end of the night, but you had to go with this new stranger, if just for tonight.

“Hey, y/n…” Mrs. Lampton pokes her head into the dressing room again. “The VIP room is ready for you. Your client is in there; you’ll be alone, as requested.” Not even a fucking security guard.

The stairs up to the absolutely private area are steep, but you somehow wobble your way up there in your red, satin teddy and black robe. When you open the door to the room, the wall maps give a soft golden glow to the space, illuminating the couches and mirror on the back wall. One-way glass separates you from view of the other patrons down below, now enjoying another show from another girl. Usually, a security guard would post himself on this side of the wall, observing the free show with the stoicism of a statue.

But tonight, it’s you and Geto. He lazes on a couch, both arms splayed across the light brown fabric as you enter the room. His black eyes follow you as you pad toward him, watching his every move. You stop in front of the man, locking eyes with him as you undo the tie at your waist and let the silk robe fall to the ground. His lips part and he spreads his legs, beckoning you forward with his right forefinger and middle finger.

Silently, you make your way to him, planting yourself between his long legs and looking down. “Kneel.” Your breath hitches in your throat, but you sink to your knees anyways, keeping your eyes on him. As he leans over you, you think the worst is about to happen and squeeze your eyes and mouth shut. When his fingers find the nape of your neck, you flinch, but feel your hair tie slide off of the braid in your hair. He smells like sandalwood - you note - much unlike the other men you encountered in the club. They often reeked of booze and smoke, or something much grimer.

His fingers work their way through your locks, separating the strands with ease before retracting. Your hair cascades around your face like a curtain, and he leans back, resuming his previous position. “You can dance if you’d like.” Instantly, you rise from the wooden floor and begin running your hands up your waist and to your chest, swirling your hips around to the sensual music playing through the speakers. Geto observes you with a tilted head, squinting his eyes when you play with the feathered hem of your teddy. You don’t lift it over your head, opting to tease him to his limit instead of giving him exactly what he wanted right away.

His black eyes roam over your figure repeatedly, watching your hips sway and fingers wind into your hair without changing. He leans forward when you take a step back, lacing his fingers together in front of him calmly. You step back into his reach, and he shifts suddenly, startling you so bad that you stop moving entirely.

“Sorry,” he hisses, adjusting his seating. “It’s a little uncomfortable to sit like that right now.” You let out a nervous chuckle and resume your movements, unsure if you’re ready to remove your lingerie or not. “I’m not going to ask you to take it off.” The admission makes you pause, but you continue to dance anyways.

“Why?”

“Why would I?” He tosses back, shrugging.

“You get to see everything in here. That’s what you paid for, right?”

“I paid for you to dance for me alone. I want a private show; not something anyone can watch for free.”

“Do you want to touch me?”

“Not yet.”

And he didn’t for the rest of the time he spent there that night. Before he left the room, he pressed a couple of hundreds into your palm then opened the door and walked out. You had never experienced anything quite like it, but with the extra cash in your hand as you walked out of the club, you prayed to the stars that you would see this unicorn just one more time.

#geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen getou #getou x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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wizardouxie · 3 years

Text

PANTONE 2046 C

Genre: Fluff, #ZoeAppreciationWeek

Pairing: Zouxie

Summary: The Pink Hair Origin Story (alternatively also the Blue Hair Origin Story)

Word Count: 2788

Author's Note: First day of Zoe Appreciation Week! Wanted to participate so have this not so little one shot to showcase our lovely pink haired witch <3

"Wow, the dye came out really nicely," Zoe murmurs as Douxie exits the bathroom, his hair freshly blown dry -- from its tips to the full bangs dipped in a deep yet striking blue. He smiles widely at the quiet compliment and waves over to Archie.

"How does it look Arch?" they ask, though the answer is pretty clear, if Archie's fond gaze is anything to go by. The familiar flies in to nuzzle his face.

"Dashing as ever, Douxie."

Zoe leans back into the couch with content, taking in the beautiful sight that is her best friend. She did really good. The faint buzz of adrenaline lingers on the pads of her fingers. Right, she forgot. That was her first time.

"Are. You. Crazy? I've never even dyed hair before!" the natural brown haired girl hissed. She begrudgingly wiped the bubblegum that had exploded over her lips -- a result from the initial shock when Douxie first made his request. Granted, she felt honored that they would come to her before anyone else, but still! She can't risk ruining his hair, she doesn't have experience, plus the hair salon could totally do it better and-

"I'd rather it be you than anyone else," the wizard confirmed firmly. Zoe turned to the familiar. Surely the cat who lived with this stubborn kid could knock some sense into them. Archie could only provide a shrug in response.

"They're pretty sure about this."

She groaned.

"Fine, fine! But give me a few days unless you want me to pick out the wrong dye and end up with neon green."

[ 1 Week Later ]

Zoe couldn't keep track of just how many hair channels and blogs she'd gone through. She mimicked their hand movements, using cheap wigs and mannequin heads to simulate the experience. Through it all, one voice echoed the same message: "You can't mess this up."

She bought all the necessary tools. Gloves, hair clips, bleach, foil, just to name a few. Oh, and of course the dye -- though you'll be surprised how one can forget the simplest things while getting caught up in trying to memorize everything. Blue, Douxie had asked for. But what kind of blue? Sky blue? Cobalt? Midnight? Which one? She pinched the bridge of her nose before angrily texting the wizard. It went a little something like this:

DOUX: go with whatever you think will look good! i'm fine with anything tbh :]

ZOE: i Hate you so much

DOUX: ??? WHY

ZOE: IDK SHIT ABOUT HAIR DYE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT LOOKS GOOD

DOUX: let's talk about this in person before you electrocute your phone again

ZOE: you won't let me live that down will you

DOUX: you know me so well ;)

She shoved the phone back in her pocket. There's no way she was actually doing this for him.

She was.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" she asked for what would be around the 73rd time. Douxie pulled his face down with both hands.

"Ugh, the answer is still yes, love. I'm not asking you to dye the whole thing, just the front part, bangs and sides."

She rolls her eyes at the nickname and smacks the clean brush against his head. She smiles at the little 'ow' that Douxie lets out with a pout. Hm, cute.

"Alright, but don't start moping around if it doesn't come out the way you wanted it!"

"Nothing that a little magic can't fix if it gets to that point. Which I hardly believe it will."

And now here they are.

Douxie crashes on the couch with Zoe, slinging an arm over her shoulders. She raises an eyebrow at the sudden physical touch, but it's never unwelcome. Not when it comes to him.

"You know of all human creations, I gotta say, this one really takes the cake," they start and Zoe snorts.

"You say that about nearly everything."

"Can you blame me?"

She looks at them and no, she really can't. In fact, she finds herself agreeing with him. He looks... really nice. A faint blush spreads over her face; not that it is noticeable by any means -- the two of them happen to have done this dying process starting from the evening to night, so the dim lights in her home do little to highlight her features. This is still her Douxie, lovable guitarist and wizard nerd who cares about everyone. Yet there was something about the hair dye that changed things up a bit. Something good, naturally.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, doing whatever is usually available. Sometimes it's texting, scrolling through social media, or listening to music. Other times it's zoning off and reminiscing about the past.

Zoe decides to go for her phone, unconscious of the way her hand finds its way into Douxie's hair, carding through the locks and untangling them with nimble fingers. It's peaceful. Maybe even a little too peaceful, considering the two of them are adrenaline junkies.

"Douxie, I can hear you thinking..." she begins. It's a common way to start the conversation between them, and oftentimes she's right.

He turns around, her hand still in his hair, but enough to meet her eyes. Their own eyes look serious and her heart sinks. Were they not happy with their hair?

The answer is quite the opposite.

"You ever considered dying your hair too? Maybe we can match."

The untangling stops.

And then the tugging starts.

"Ow ow ow-"

"Hisirdoux Casperan you are a menace to society."

She does though. She considers it for weeks. Of course, Douxie doesn't push; it's her hair at the end of the day, she can do whatever she likes. But after seeing how well she did with the wizard, she kinda felt excited. She definitely can't forget the exhilaration she felt when she saw people compliment Douxie at Benoit's or at the GDT book store. Her heart started beating faster when he looked back at her with a proud smile on his face-- damn that wizard, they told the others that she did it for them, didn't they?

After a few days, a young girl in a cap comes up to her at the record store. Probably from Arcadia High, if her backpack stacked with books is any indication.

"Hi! I'm Claire. Claire Nuñez," the girl starts. Zoe raises an eyebrow in interest.

"Hey Claire. What can I get you?" she asks, raising a flask to her lips. There's no water. Damn.

"Um, it's not really a standard request, but um, I was wondering if you could dye my hair?"

Zoe chokes on her water. Dye her what?

"Kid, are you new here? This is a records store. I can give you the direction to the hair salon it's really not that far."

"No, no, no! It's just, this guy got their hair dyed and I asked if he did it himself and they said you did it for them so I came to you. It's nothing too big! Just a strand really," Claire rambles. She gestures to the invisible front of her hair, currently tucked away behind the cap, outlining it with her fingers. The hedge witch groans.

"That would be Douxie. Now, here's the thing I don't do this for just anyone. Douxie happens to be a close friend so what I did was a little gift for him. I don't even know you, so what do I get out of this?"

Claire pales.

"Uh, $20? I know a full head of hair costs way more but like I said, just a strand..."

Zoe's stomach rumbles in response. She had $5 currently in her wallet which could buy a snack at most. She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Ugh, you're lucky I'm hungry. Catch me after my shift is done okay? And I only got one color on me, which is blue, you good with that? Otherwise bring your own."

"Yes of course, of course! Thank you so much."

"Yeah, yeah, now scram if you're not here to buy anything."

"Oh actually, I was wondering if you had anything Papa Skull released recently!"

Curse this girl and her good taste in music.

[ 45 minutes later; 2:00 PM ]

"Thank you for doing this by the way," Claire starts. Zoe waves it off. She doesn't really know why she agreed to this. Well kind of. She wanted to eat. But besides that, she also was curious to see if she could satisfy another "customer". Hair dying was never a profession she had properly considered and right now? It doesn't hurt to entertain a thought.

"Alright so I have the bleach, you'll need to let that set in and keep that before dying the strand you want. We can even add toner to neutralize the color post bleaching if necessary," she lists off. Claire shakes her head.

"That won't be necessary!"

The girl pulls off her cap and surely enough, there's a light blonde lock, similar to Douxie's, just a little lighter. Zoe's impressed.

"Well that definitely makes my job easier. Especially since this is my second time."

"Wait, second time?"

"You didn't know?"

"No?"

"Of course Douxie leaves that part out. You want out? I'll pay you back the $20 in four days."

"No, I trust you."

Zoe always believed that she had tough and cold demeanor. Clearly she's doing something wrong if people are finding her trustworthy just by looking at one dye job.

"Alright then, here we go! Don't say I didn't warn you," the witch replies. She wraps the cloth around Claire softly, and pulls up the bowl with the dye in it. With a gloved hand she separates the pale strands from the brown ones. The blue will definitely be more prominent here than it would be with Douxie's. Something tells her that Claire wouldn't mind.

From the looks of Claire's surprise, wonder, and delight, she definitely didn't mind.

"It. Looks. So cool! You're really good at this. Maybe you should start a hair dying salon or something," the girl rattles off. Zoe raises a hand.

"I'm already working two part time jobs so... no. But I'm glad you liked it. The blue looks really good. Stands out well."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Claire repeats, putting back her cap on. A feeling of confusion overcomes Zoe.

"Wait, why are you putting your cap back on? Don't you want to show people?"

"Duh, but um, my mom doesn't know about, uh, all this. You know, councilwoman things."

Zoe's mouth drops, the $20 bill crumpled in her hand. So that's why she didn't go to the hair salon. Nuñez is the councilwoman, so she'd know pretty much everyone in the town. And word spreads pretty fast. In summary: Claire would have gotten caught.

"See ya!"

These kids are going to land her in some serious trouble one day.

With a burger and soda in her tray, Zoe takes a seat and pulls out her phone. That Claire girl though, she's sort of inspiring. Adventurous. Not hesitant in taking chances. And you know Zoe, she absolutely loves the thrills of life. Whether it be hunting magical creatures or refining her usually unpredictable magic. The humans tend to have mellow definition of risk taking, in her opinion, but their examples are fun enough in their own way: crossing the speed limit, riding rollercoasters, anything along those lines. The brunette clicks on a familiar contact and begins typing.

ZOE: which color looks good on me

ZOE: don't ask it's for a stupid job thing

DOUX: which job?

ZOE: WHAT PART OF DON'T ASK

ZOE: hex tech, something for employee uniforms

DOUX: i was going to say pink since it brings out your eyes but if it's for uniforms i dunno, light blue?

ZOE: hm interesting

DOUX: you should just work here at the book store it's chill

ZOE: but then i'd have to deal with you

DOUX: now is that really a bad thing?

DOUX: zoe.

Light blue is definitely a no go, Zoe decides. Too much blue dye going around. But pink, hm she could work with that. It's a pretty bold color and it would compliment her eyes as well as her face in general. A win-win for her.

And as for how far she's willing to go? She decides to go all in. No tips, no ombre, just complete bubblegum hair. Of course this takes a few days to gather the guts.

'You can do it Zoe, just go for the bleach,' she thinks to herself. Her hands shake with nervousness and excitement. Frankly, hunting niffins didn't compare to the rush she's feeling right now. She closes her eyes and brings the brush to her hair.

Well, here goes nothing.

She winces as she feels the tingling sensation, but loads of videos have assured that such symptoms were normal. She continues to work at it, using the foil to make sure she doesn't bleach a part of her hair to death. It's long and strenuous, but she knows the results in the few coming weeks would be worth it.

She doesn't have to worry about Douxie finding out thankfully. Turns out these weeks are essential for Merlin's "To-Do" List. Apparently it was to find Camelot?

"The castle he means. Not the actual kingdom. That's been gone for centuries. Anyways, I'll be back once I actually find it. Dunno how I'll do it and it probably will take me and Arch a month or so, haha. Oh! And if my hirers ask you anything, it's a family emergency."

Hm, whatever. A brief thought of Merlin dying his hair neon green amuses her, before she goes back to watching more hair dye videos. They've become a little addicting nowadays. She's amazed at how often people do it. How do they keep their hair so healthy?

It's been four weeks now and Zoe's eyes stare at the pink concoction in her hand. PANTONE 2046 C. This was the shade that stole her heart in the middle of the hair dye aisle. No other color could compare in the slightest. Even the cashier who packaged her order hummed in approval.

"Nice color! Not many go for it, but it'll suit you for sure."

This time her movements are calculated, not clumsy or fear driven like it used to be. One could even say she's getting the hang of this. Her hair over time changes from platinum blonde to a dark matted pink. She lets it sit for a bit, meanwhile focusing on getting the dye out of her hands. This turns out to be harder than she thought and she sighs. Well, maybe another day.

After washing and blow drying her hair, she stands in front of the mirror. The witch staring back at her is almost unrecognizable. As if she were a new person completely. And she liked it.

The blank stare shifts into a grin and she tugs at her own locks. Goddamn. She looks really good.

And well, Douxie's reaction is priceless to say the least.

DOUX: you said to meet up at the museum where are you

DOUX: i swear if you slept in i'll send archie to knock down everything in your apartment

DOUX: ok no i won't but still it's been a month since we last saw each other come on

DOUX: wait a second

DOUX: you're joking

DOUX: IS THAT??? YOU????

DOUX: IN THE PINK

DOUX: oh fuzzbuckets you look stunning

DOUX: Hello this is Archie. You broke Douxie so could you please finish your conversation with whoever it is you're with and come pick him up? Your hair is absolutely lovely by the way.

ZOE: omfg

ZOE: can't take you guys anywhere

The witch smiles at the girls and nods over to a gaping Douxie and his cat before gracefully exiting the conversation. She approaches her friend and pushes his jaw up with her index finger.

"So I'm assuming you're digging the new look hm?" she teases.

"You have no idea," Douxie responds. A pink tint lighter than the shade of her hair blooms across Zoe's face at the expression of adoration in her best friend's eyes. The two of them have been through a lot together, seeing each other grow and change. And this time, it was a really fun and welcome one.

"I might try this again with a different color some time. You wanna join then?"

"Don't have to ask me twice."

It's crazy how all of this came from a chaotic, impulsive research project to help a friend. But honestly Zoe wouldn't have it any other way.

Maybe Douxie was right. Of all human creations, this one beats pretty much everything else.

#ZoeAppreciationWeek #zoeappreciationweek #here's my entry hehe #enjoy!#toa #tales of arcadia #zoe #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #zouxie #archie #claire #claire nuñez #ophelia #ophelia nuñez

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