#and i have pink dye to do some strips with when i get the home alone time and patience | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ioniansunsets · 6 months

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i loved your heartsteel!kayn scenarios! can you possibly do a scenario of fem!reader helping heartsteel!kayn dye his hair :3

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Getting His Hair Dyed by Reader ✖

✖ Word Count: 900

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: He has his default skin braid here. Stay tuned for more. I MISS THIS FUCKER'S BRAID OK. Also you are his long term partner! I thought it would be cute if you have been supporting him though all his ups and downs uwu

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" For reals, you've done this before right. Don't fuck it up I swear to god I will cry I'm dealing with enough shit right now babe." " You're the one that asked me to do this for you, have some trust in me."

You comb through his braid and neatly section if off one last time before slapping on the DIY at home bleach. After getting kicked out of his old band Kayn wanted a full makeover, so with five boxes of bleach and some whining he convinced you to help him bleach and dye his hair. You stood awkwardly behind him as you comb in the bleach. Kayn wasn't wearing a shirt, so that he wouldn't ruin any tees. So it was quite a sight, hair down, topless, you pause for a bit and stare. After some thinking you sigh, you were going to miss his blue and black hair...it was so soft too...

" Hey I heard that sigh! You know I HAVE to do this...I want to change my image, show them I'm better without them!"

Kayn pouts, you see it in the mirror and laugh. Slapping on more bleach, sectioning it out and complaining once again bout how the long hair sticks to the gloves and makes it all messy. But ok, you work hard, with a roll of aluminum foil ready you neatly bleach his long hair. As you wait for the first bleaching to set in you throw a little of the leftovers on your hair too, just enough for one strip.

" Should we match colors?"

You see Kayn visibly perk up as he hears your suggestion.

" Really? I think that will be cute. Like a cringey couple."

He smirks, leaning back to take a good look at you in the toilet mirror. He starts laughing loudly.

" Wait are you copying me or making fun of me! Why bleach that same chunk of hair as the old me!"

The two of you chat for a bit as you wait for the bleach to set in, when times up you help him wash it all off in the tub. Damn his hair was really such a dark black, it was just brown now. You comment about it needed a few more rounds of bleach. Kayn sighs this time instead, exhausted already but his rockstar image was at stake, he wanted to look cool so he had to do this. He had a goal already, an ombre fade of pink and purple, it would be so cool. Sitting back down, you blow dry his hair and start on round two.

And round three. Orange.

And four. Yellow.

And five before the yellow finally lifts enough! You were finally free from seeing that yellow, orange hue! And-

Oh no. You look at a handful of hair in your hands from where you combed through his hair.

" Kayn I am so sorry..." " No! I cannot deal with this right now please. Y/N Tell me its fine." " I'll fix it!"

You too were unsure how to react, were you going to cry or laugh. After five bleaches, his hair kinda...fried off. Ah...you were REALLY going to miss his long hair. Promising to fix it, you grab some hair scissors and did your best. With Kayn doing everything to hold himself together while you save what you can and work out a messy cut. It actually looked really good. You tell him to look up as you blow dry his hair yet again. Promising it wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. Kayn tentatively pulls his hands away from his face as he looks at himself in the mirror. A smile slowly creeping across his face.

" Oh shit you really did fix it? The hell Y/N! Let's dye it right now! I still want that pink purple thing going down!"

He tilts his head left and right, trying to get a better look at it, an idol worthy style. Kayn nods, happy with what you've done with it. Quickly you work the colors onto his hair and yours. Laughing together as he admires himself in the mirror. Half an hour passes and you wash his hair and dry it off for the last time. Kayn himself also helping to wash the and dry your hair. You smile as the two of you admire your reflections.

" Is it me or are we looking super hot?"

He snakes and arm around your waist, pulling you close. Giving your cheek a quick kiss.

" I actually like this a lot I'm glad it worked out. Thank you Y/N."

Kayn gives you a warm smile as he runs his hands through his hair, giving it a little shake as it falls gracefully along his jawline. He turns his attention back to the mirror before he shouts.

" Oh shit yeah! Let me snap a photo!"

Kayn leaves the room for a bit, grabbing his phone and a nice shirt to snap a photo in. He returns, hand draped around your shoulder as he takes a mirror selfie with you both. The largest smile plastered on his face as he sits down and edits it to use as his new wallpaper. You would mourn his pretty braid but...he was still your charming boyfriend you could live with the new style. The short hair was starting to grow on your after all.

#Also I like just bleached and dyed my hair to match og Kayn and was thinking of this scenario the whole time LMAO #Anon Answer #Shieda Kayn #Shieda Kayn x Reader #SCENARIOS #League of Legends Scenarios #Kayn LoL #Heartsteel!Kayn #KaynLeague #Kayn League #Kayn x Reader #this might be a bit weird i hope its still fun to read #had some ????????!!!!!! writing this #also this is also from personal experience where i bleached my hair 7 times and it just snapped at random places oops

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my-soupy-brain · 8 months

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body painting with ted (cute and hot)

This is a really fun prompt and I know absolutely zero about body painting but let's see how we can get reader and Ted to roll around in some ROYGBIV yeah? Let's gooo!

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Relationship: Ted Lasso x reader

Warnings: Nudity, lust, light smut ahead

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Ted's never one to complain when you find a new date idea for the two of you.

So when he comes home on Friday night and sees you in the living room with a sheet laid on the floor and a myriad of paints and paintbrushes, he doesn't judge. He is curious.

"Hi there, dariln'," he announces, watching you organize plastic palettes and brushes, sponges, and cloths.

"Hi, sweetheart! Date night?" you ask with a mischievous glint.

"We gonna do a figure drawing class? Paint some pottery? What's your plan?" he asks with a big grin.

"Each other."

"Huh?"

"Each other. We're gonna paint each other."

Ted's eyebrows shoot up. He's never done anything like this before, but if he trusts anyone to show him how to have fun, it's you.

"Go take your clothes off, sweetheart. And meet me back out here."

Ted's blood travels south fast at the order, and scurries off to the bedroom to strip down. You do the same. When he comes back in the room, he's in his boxer briefs, his little love handles visible, and that broad chest and soft but perfect tummy. Your eyes track the pattern of his chest hair, down his belly, disappearing behind his underwear... you could salivate.

He kneels with you, also in your underwear, and puts his arms around you, loving the warm skin-on-skin connection.

"How's this work, sugar?"

You smile.

"Well, it's edible paint, for starters. But let's do a test patch each so we're not allergic," and you brush him with a little dab, and he does the same.

Feeling no immediate results, he leans forward and smells the purple he swiped against your collarbone.

"Mmm! Grape!" he says, sticking his tongue out to lick it off. Your entire body lights up at the sensation.

Once you realize you're safe from allergies, you grab your paintbrush and start dragging it down his collarbone, over his shoulder, creating a long vine and roses.

You lean into him, dragging your tongue along the green and red. His big hand cups your hip, steadying you while his breath hitches at your soft mouth against his skin.

"Mmm, strawberry and green apple," you murmur, trying the new flavors.

"I love strawberry," Ted says softly, painting a big heart over your breast, and then leaning in to kiss it, suck it, letting the flavor flood his tongue.

Your fingers run through his hair, a deep, baritone groan coming from Ted as his tongue makes contact with your skin.

When he pulls away, he's got some paint on his lips, and you can't help leaning forward to lick it off.

"Lay down, sweetheart," you request, your eyes hooded.

Ted lays down on his elbows, watching your next move. You grab a bottle of blue and squeeze a few drops down his tummy, and he watches you swirl the paintbrush around and around.

"Whatcha makin' there," he stammers, his whole body tuned into this activity.

You lean back, looking at the makeshift AFC Richmond logo painted into Ted's torso, and you're impressed for doing it from memory. He looks down and smiles.

"Quite the tattoo," he jokes, and you lean over and kiss the colors, letting them stain your lips. Strawberry again, blueberry, and lemon...

He watches and takes a few deep breaths as he sees your tongue running down his belly, your hands splayed up on his thighs...

"Oh...fuck..." he murmurs, an uncharacteristic swear slipping from his lips.

He's now hard, his cock practically splitting the seams of his boxer briefs.

As your tongue drags up and around the design, his hand weaves into your hair. When you've smeared the design enough, you sit back and marvel at the tie-dye stains across his belly.

He sits up, moving to lay you down, his eyes dark and needy. He drips purple and pink paint down your body, down your breastbone, and languishly runs the brush around to make designs.

He's not doing anything specific, just doodling, his eyes fixed on yours as your breath hitches and your lips drop open in a small moan.

"Feel good?" he asks, his voice low and husky. All you can do is nod.

He uses his knee to spread your legs apart, hovering over your chest and dragging his tongue back through the grape and watermelon paint. His perfect lips suck at your skin, nibbling at it, his tongue brushing behind his teeth.

"Oh, God...Ted...baby..." you moan, your back arching off the floor, his hands gripping your hips and thighs.

He brings his lips to yours, and his thick, hard cock ruts against your desperate, damp center.

When he lowers more of his weight on you, that warm, delicious body over yours, you know painting is done for the night.

"Mmm, you taste like candy," you giggle against his lips, his hands running up and down your body, the paint on your bodies smearing on the other.

"Yeah? So do you, darlin'..." Ted says, his lips moving down your neck, and then your collarbone, down your tummy...lower...

"You know what else?" he asks, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the way.

"What?" you ask dreamily.

"I bet I know what else tastes like candy..."

---

Let your imagination run wild with the living room floor lovin' you get to enjoy with Ted. Body painting is so cute! I love this. And I read about flavored body paint as I was researching this, and then thought "it better be flavored like Jolly Ranchers." So here we are. Thanks for the prompt, friend!

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso smut #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso reader insert #mmmm body painting with ted

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venicemermaids · 3 months

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i'm back w more au stuff!! this time, centering around a pop duo. to tell you the truth, i kind of built this au around them.

anyway, if you have any questions about the au or anything.. i'm always happy to answer. <3 now... hcs under the cut!

♡ trish is the only daughter of model donatella una and fashion photographer aceto doppio. doppio signs his work as 'solido naso' so he can keep his private life separate from his professional life. diavolo is trish's uncle, who often spoils her when he sees her.

♡ growing up, trish had a rather normal life. donatella and doppio wanted to make sure that trish didn't have to deal with invasive questions and paparazzi hounding her, but she's always been interested in the glitz and glamour of her parents' work. instead of modeling, she wanted to write music and eventually become a popstar. she started with a small youtube channel doing covers, and eventually started doing her own original songs.

♡ lucy is the daughter of steven steel, who is a famous director. she's homeschooled so the paparazzi or any fans can't bother her while she's trying to learn, and she's rather well-versed in navigating the industry thanks to her attending many social events with steven, his former protegé funny valentine, and funny's wife scarlet.

♡ when lucy was ten, she decided to become an actress because she enjoyed cameoing in steven's movies growing up. she did commercials and small tv roles until steven eventually put her in his most recent film, a silent way, when she was 13. it was her breakout role. she appeared on a few tv shows after and people still talk about her even now since they're interested in what she'll do next. honestly, she was considering going into music.

♡ shortly before lucy's fifteenth birthday, she met trish through a public performance that trish was putting on. lucy was impressed. when she went home that night, she found trish's youtube channel. with this, her mind was made up. she'd take a break from acting, and focus her energy on singing.

♡ for her birthday present, she had only one wish; to record music, but only if she could record it with trish.

♡ steven gets into contact with trish and her parents, and they schedule a meeting with each other shortly after. trish isn't totally onboard with the idea initially because she always thought of herself as a solo act. after thinking on it for about a day or two, she comes back and agrees to perform alongside lucy.

♡ they call their act diva riot!! their main sound is glam pop. trish writes a vast majority of their songs, but lucy pitches in with her own ideas as well. their debut album is called roll out the red carpet.

♡ to help them gain some publicity, diavolo invites them to take some photos at passione and offers to put them in the latest issue. they accept, of course. the rest is history

okay!! time for some more miscellaneous thoughts about them together and apart!

♡ lucy helps trish navigate her first few celebrity events, especially since trish isn't the type to suck up to other people. plus, lucy's well aware of who to steer clear of lest their reputations get completely tanked or they get dragged into extremely awkward situations.

♡ in turn, trish helps lucy improve her singing voice. there's a noticeable improvement as they record more albums together, and lucy's grateful for the advice.

♡ one day as a show of friendship, lucy dyes a strip of her hair pink to match trish. in response, trish begins to wear yellow star-themed accessories as a reference to lucy.

♡ lucy idolizes the joestars to an extent, so she gravitates towards star-themed memorabilia. she cameoed in a movie starring johnny once as a kid, and they developed a close friendship with each other since she always hung around set. she hasn't been able to see much of him after his accident.

♡ even before she became famous, trish often hung around passione's studio for fun when her parents were busy. she's friends with bucciarati and the models that picked him to be their agent (abbacchio, mista, narancia, and fugo), but she's still getting used to giorno's presence because he's new.

♡ eventually, lucy begins to hang around passione as well. trish invited her, and she sticks around for someone else as well. who that is a secret between herself and that person.

♡ one time for a concert, trish convinced lucy to perform with actual animals. diavolo secretly paid for it. trish came in on a lioness, while lucy had a snake draped across her shoulders. (britney spears reference? you already know.)

♡ donatello and aceto eventually come to see lucy as a part of the family, while steven does the same for trish. lucy and trish call each other the sisters they never had.

if i had to describe diva riot's overall aesthetic, i'd say it's very bratz inspired. i literally looked up lines i could use for inspo 😭 anyway!! when they're performing, trish's main color is pink while lucy's is orange.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba #jojo headcanons #jjba au #jojo au #trish una #lucy steel #celebrity au

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itsyourstarboy · 2 years

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WHAM

✨Babe OC✨

Baaabe is up next in my redacted listeners! I love how she came out, she’s gorgeous ❤️

Info about them under the cut!

Hot damn 🥵🥵

My Babe is named Pixie and uses she/they pronouns

💅Demigirl💅

5’4”

😳shawty😳

Her hair is naturally blonde, and she dyes it with cheap box dye. The dye is usually a vibrant hot pink when she first puts it in, but after a week it’s already faded into that streaky pastel pink

E-girl babey 🖤

She is dominant most of the time when it comes to sexual intimacy, but very submissive when it comes to basic affection. Poor thing doesn’t know how to handle a compliment.

Tell her she’s pretty and she blue screens

She keeps to herself a lot, having been raised to only speak when spoken to, but if you get her talking she is loud.

Pix just wants to be heard

Their laugh is described as obnoxious by some, but Ash loves it.

It’s a very contagious laugh

Her love language is teasing, so if you think she’s bullying you, she’s actually flirting.

Ash wears one of those bracelets that is locked onto his wrist, and she has the key on a necklace <3

They work middle management at their office job, and they hate it.

However, they’re good at it and it pays well, so they don’t see a reason for leaving.

They’re a master at painting, she’s been practicing for over 10 years.

If she could, she would make a career out of it, but she thinks she can’t.

It was kinda instilled in her from a young age that art isn’t a real job...

Ash has tried to encourage them to profit off of their work, but his attempts have proven fruitless.

She’s definitely painted Ash in the nude (more than once)

The first time, he was just trying to be funny, and stripped in front of their canvas going, “paint me like one of your French girls”.

She was like, “okay, bet,” and now there’s a portrait of Asher hanging in their bathroom.

Milo refuses to use the bathroom when he’s over there.

30% sweet; 15% silly; 40% mom friend; 5% organized; 20% horny

They can’t fight for the life of them, I’m sorry.

She jumps at everything, especially loud noises.

She’ll drop something and her hands immediately fly to her chest to curl into herself as she preemptively flinches at the dreaded clang of object hitting floor.

She can, however, run very fast

And scream very loud

They are so tired of pizza and wings but don’t have the heart to tell Ash, so they just make sure they have dinner plans for every night.

They have some basic cooking skills, not the best, but better than their mate so it’ll do.

She is the BIGGEST sucker for Ash when he’s excited about something. Like she can’t bring herself to ever burst his bubble.

If there’s a movie coming out that she thinks looks like shit, but Ash is really excited about it, she will toughen up and go see the movie with him.

If it ends up being a good movie, sweet! The two of them had an enjoyable date night and now they can discuss the movie on the way home

If the movie ends up being as bad as Pixie predicted, she will have to physically restrain herself from making out with Ash in the theater (because she may be bored, but he’s not)

They’ll leave the movie and Ash will be chatting a mile a minute about everything he loved about it, and they’ll just smile and nod, because they may not have had a good time but Ash is really cute so they don’t care.

But if Ash genuinely asks for their opinion, they’ll be honest.

Just not as brutally as they’d prefer.

She has social anxiety, but she’s used to dealing with it since she works around so many people.

That, and she’s an extrovert, so she has to socialize sometime.

On bad days, where they get headaches from the stress, they’ll wear soft, comfy clothes (which prompts Ash for cuddles because soft, comfy babe)

If she’s at work on these days, Ash will surprise her by showing up during her lunch break with her favorite foods <3

Pet names for Asher include: Hun, Baby, Bugs, Boog, Puppy

They want a chinchilla.

Ash has a fear of chinchillas.

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aiiwa · 4 years

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PRETTY IN PINK — IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

✗ REQUEST: may i request a lil text fic of yn having the most juiciest 🍑 and taking pics in her lingerie to send to her female friends so they can help pic out which one is the prettiest but she accidently sends them to her best friend and crush iwa and how that would go?????

— iwaizumi hajime.

⤷ genre: college au - fluff (?) / crack (?)

⤷ warnings: suggestive / mature themes, cursing, and a photo thirst trap photo (?), also iwa talking about masturbating over your photo

⤷ word count: 2.8k

— a/n: for my big booty anon i would sell my soul for 🍑💖

this is set in the same universe as freshman year, so feel free to give it a read if you’d like!!

life after meeting your boys had changed your daily routine in the best way. not a minute went by that wasn’t filled with the familiar craziness you had grown on.

free time was spent humouring mattsun by shifting the couches in their apartment around and engaging in a wrestling match, originally stemming from a fight the two of you had over the last slice of cake a month ago; the current score was an even tie of 14-14 though you had plans to take the lead. when it came to makki, he was more than happy to indulge on your self-care days; he’d even take part in your skincare routine, let you paint his nails, and liked it when you made smoothies to sip on while the two of you waited for your clay masks to dry. every other week was dedicated to retouching his roots with pink hair dye.

other days, you were set up on your bed; under the soft covers, stash of snacks next to you, while your laptop rested on your lap. and at exactly three a.m. you would receive an incoming call from, oikawa. since it would be three p.m. in argentina, he’d take to sitting out on his balcony, basking in the sun and interrogating you on the relationship, or lack thereof, you had with his dear iwa-chan.

speaking of sweet, gorgeous iwa - in your biased and majorly crushing opinion, hanging out with him was your favourite. though you’d never be heard saying that around anyone. just last week he’d all but solidified your love for him even more, when the two of you were up late, binge watching a new sci-fi show that caught iwa’s attention, and he got up to make you some coffee when you started to feel sleepy.

“here we go, coffee with two sugars for the pretty lady.” the warmth you felt run over your body settled before you grabbed at the steaming cup. taking a sip you realised you’d never told iwa how many sugars you preferred, and after asking him, you watched his faint blush bloom under the harsh light of the t.v. screen. “heh, i don’t know...just noticed it, i guess.”

but as much as you loved the guys, there were just some things you couldn’t do with them. things that required a strictly girls-only day out.

“what do you mean we’re not allowed to come? i wanna go to the mall too!” mattsun whines, tugging at the sleeve of your cropped, button-up sweater, while you were bent over tying your laces.

“it’s a girl’s day out, emphasis on girl.” smacking his hand away, you straighten up; sending him the look your mother gives you when you’re being difficult. “so unless your little pee-pee grew into a powerful vagina, you’ll be staying home.”

“but makki’s practically a girl too!” the couch cushion that flew into his face was true to its aim, the swift whack shutting mattsun up.

“fuck off, little dick.” makki grumbled, lanky figure draped over the couch; sans aforementioned couch cushion that was covering his face before. mattsun tried to throw the pillow back at the pink-haired boy, but it was caught with ease. “we agreed to never bring that up again.”

“yeah well, y/n’s talking about some girl-time shit, like we didn’t take her to a strip club, filled with male strippers.” mattsun sasses back, crossing his arms with a smirk. “like makki didn’t get a lap dance from that guy-”

from the corner of your eye, the bulky figure entering the room catches your attention instantly. you could never get tired of eyeing up the way his shirt stretched around his fit body, how his sleeves cut a bit into his arms and knowing he could rip them up with a flex of his biceps. watching him walk up to you, the tightening of his navy blue gym shorts around his shaped thighs, had you mesmerised; dragging your gaze across the outline of his bulge, you swore it twitched just before he stopped near you.

“ready to go, y/n?” he offered a small smile, twirling his keys around his finger. at the sound of his voice, the other two boys halted their bickering over the strip club incident.

“oi iwa, no fair, are you going with y/n?!” mattsun interrogates, thick brows arched in question.

“i’m dropping her off.”

“oh.” makki chimes in. “out of everyone i thought you would be the one with the most complaints, iwa. just the other day when the two of you were together, i wanted to ask y/n for help with my project but you-”

“yeah, yeah that was the other day.” iwa cuts him off, and you couldn’t help but furrow your brows, wanting to know what makki was going to say. oh well, you’ll just get it out of him after. “c’mon y/n, you’ll be late meeting the girls.”

iwa was on his way to the front door when makki asked you what was so different about this trip to the mall that you didn’t want any of the boys to come along.

“i’m going to buy new lingerie, and i need their opinions.” you shrugged, grabbing your hand bag so you could follow iwa out.

busy with shoving your phone into your purse, and checking you had all of your essentials, you failed to notice the scheming look shared between mattsun and makki. or how iwa stood frozen by the door, hand tightly gripping the handle, until you bumped into his warm back.

“lingerie...hm, i wonder for who?”

at makki’s words you felt heat rise up in your face, as you rubbed at your nose.

“y/n~! you could’ve just asked me to come along! i would love to give my opinion!”

you’d never seen keys flying so fast through the air, finding their mark on mattsun’s forehead.

after spending twenty minutes pressing an ice pack to the growing bump on mattsun’s forehead, and listening to him trying to explain to an irritated iwa that he was just playing around; you’d finally left the apartment, and was nearing the bustling shopping district. iwa had been quiet, though not awkward, with only the mellow songs of his playlist, named after you, playing during the short drive. he flicked his indicator on, spotting the two girls waving at you from the sidewalk, and pulled over to the side.

“thanks for the ride, iwa.” you mumbled distractedly, admiring the veins in his tanned arm as he shifted the gear into park.

“anything for my pretty lady.” iwa lifts the corner of his mouth up into a sweet grin, olive green eyes flitting over you next to him. he doesn’t even realise he’d called you his pretty lady, and you press a hand to your heated cheek; ignoring your friends cooing and pointing at the two of you. “do you need some money? are you gonna be warm?” he leans closer to you, putting his arm behind your seat as he searches through his gym back in the back. the intoxicating smell of his cinnamon cologne invades your senses. “i’ll give you my jacket, just let me find it.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics, grabbing his bicep to stop him, giving it a firm, very self-indulgent squeeze. “iwa.” you called out to him. he turned to look at you, wide eyed and so fucking adorable. “you’re acting like my mom.”

his handsome features relaxed as he released an airy laugh. “well i love your mom, so i’m fine with that.” he pulled his arm from behind you, jacket in his grip, though not in a way to make you let go of his arm.

“i still can’t believe she messages you to make sure i’m eating right.” you groaned, still squeezing his arm playfully. “and stop trying to give me money, it’s like you want to be my sugar daddy or something.”

iwa’s arm tenses under your touch as he processes your words. “alright, time for you to go.” you manage to catch the bright blush dusting his cheeks; your hand reaching out to pinch them yet all you feel is the material of his jacket as he shoves it into your arms. “get out, your friends are waiting for you.”

you pout at his dismissal; but with the way he was so flustered, scratching the back of his neck and hiding his pretty eyes, you decide to let him off easy

“‘kay, fine~” you drawled in a sing-song voice.

making a show of collecting your things together, you dramatically tugged your seat belt loose; reaching for the door but halting in your actions when the weight of his large hand, dropped on top of your head. allowing him to angle your head to face him, he gifted you with a soft smile that had you ready to melt into the passenger seat.

“be safe, alright?” your eyes blinked with each gentle pat on your head - once, twice, thrice - most likely ruffling your hair you’d spent a good amount of time on. “now go, text me and i’ll pick you up later.”

puffing your cheeks, you nodded as he squeezed your scalp affectionately. unlocking the door, you stepped outside into the cool air, wrapping iwa’s big jacket over your shoulders as goosebumps rose underneath the thin material of your sweater. bumping the door closed with your hip, you bent at the waist and stuck your head through the open window

“bye, iwa.” your lips pressed together in a shy smile.

he mirrored your smile. “see you later, pretty lady.”

walking away, tugging the collar of his jacket closer, you could feel his eyes following after you. only half-listening as the girls teased you, hooking their arms through yours to walk through the entrance of the mall; you glanced back once more to see iwa stick a hand out and wave, before driving off once you disappeared from his view.

steam whirled up and around iwa, as a contented sigh escaped his parted lips. stood underneath the spray of warm water, he felt the tension begin to evaporate from his taut muscles

iwa’s gym sessions, as of late, had been rather extreme. well, it had been this way for a couple of months now, ever since he had met you. he had to overwork his body, send it into overdrive and power through the fatigue - it was the only way to release some of his pent up frustration. the frustration that came with crushing on you, and not acting on it.

you were so fucking gorgeous to him, and you were so damn sweet. every part of his being was steadily entangling itself around your presence, and he had no idea how to stop it. not that he would even want to try. when you were nearby, his ears would begin to twitch at the sound of your voice, searching for you; and when you touched him, wrapping your delicate fingers around his arm to steady yourself, or poking your fingers at his back absentmindedly while teasing his roommates, he could feel his skin tingle all over. but it was when you would look up at him, sparkles in your beautiful eyes, that iwa knew he was a goner.

you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger, and he just wanted to make you his. have you in his arms…and bury himself so deep inside you-

“fuck.”

he shut off the shower with a bit more force than necessary. this was exactly the reason why he’d been visiting the gym more, working out for longer, because his mind was plagued with thoughts of you under him.

especially after seeing you in your cute outfit today. he feared that you’d catch his eyes lingering too long on the exposed skin of your tummy, or trying to memorise the curve of your lush thighs in those jeans. hell, he could barely say anything to you on the drive to the mall, tongue running dry with you so close to him.

with a huff, he carefully stepped out of the shower; wrapping his fully white towel around his hips, and moving into his room. kicking the door closed behind him, he made his way towards his side table just in time for his phone to go off.

grabbing the device and waiting a second for the facial recognition to process; he was surprised to see it was an instagram notification from you. expecting another food porn post, he was dead wrong; with absolutely nothing that could’ve prepared him for what greeted his eyes.

“holy,” he collapsed onto his bed, holding his phone to his face. “fuck.”

you...you-

“fuck!” he growled out.

you’d sent him a photo in your new lingerie, albeit it was most likely by accident, but there you were modelling your new all-pink set. the one he had 'chosen’.

with your arms raised above your head, brushing your hair over your shoulders, the stretched out pose accentuated the curve of your breasts, almost spilling out from the strapped confines of your bra. could he even call it that? it was all studded belt straps and buckles, that matched the thick choker-collar around your lithe neck, and it was not helping his current situation. grazing his eyes lower, a thin belt was clipped around your waist, before a sliver of skin lead downwards to the skinny, almost sheer, material of your panties. it was high waisted, dipping behind your wide hips and the teasing curve of your ass. and then your thighs, fuck how he wanted his face to be squeezed between them. thigh-high stockings dug into your plush thighs, squished out from the way you were sitting on your rug.

leaning back onto his bed, iwa was tempted to check if his heart was still beating, if he was even breathing at this point. but he did check, and he was alive; and the blood circulating his body was currently flowing straight to his groin.

the sight of you, so fucking pretty in pink, was burned into his mind forever.

under his palms the prickling sensation spread across his fingers, itching to relieve himself. one hand trailed across the panes of his abdomen, while the other grabbed at his phone; though it almost went flying out of his hand when it started vibrating and your contact photo flashed on his screen.

“shit.” he cursed, clearing his throat and trying to even out his breathing. he accepted the call after a moment. “hello?”

“iwa?!” at the sound of your voice he could feel his dick twitch, and he clenched his teeth together; annoyed at himself. he needed to get a grip. “oh my god, iwa, i am so sorry!”

‘no, i’m sorry that i want to fuck you so bad right now.’ is what he wants to say. “it’s...fine, y/n.” is what he manages to get out.

he hears you chuckle a bit awkwardly on the other end of the line. “shit, i’m so embarrassed right now.” you confess. “i meant to send that to the girls…”

“you don’t have to be embarrassed.” if anyone was to embarrassed it was him. he’d spent months pining after you, and now here he was lying on his bed aching to touch himself to you, towel fisted in his free hand. “you’re beautiful, y/n.” at least that managed to come out right.

“thank you, iwa...i only realised what happened when i was about to send another showing the back!” you laughing at your antics fell deaf on his ears, when the thought of your ass seized control of his mind.

how often had he admired the shape of you the past few months. daydreaming of the way you’d feel in his big hands, silky skin dug into by his long fingers, cheeks jutting out between them. he wanted to hold your ass in the palms of his hands, squeeze and tease you...his hips buck up, grinding against the cotton of the towel and a loud groan escapes his mouth.

“oh- iwa? are you okay?” you asked him, so innocently. he couldn’t take it anymore.

“i’m good...i just- something’s come up,” he hissed out, glancing down at the red tip of his cock peeping up at him. “i’ll call you later.”

“oh, of course! sorry again iwa, hehe, i’ll delete the photo. talk soon!”

his eyes shut at the sound of your giggle, free hand already rubbing himself. “bye.”

ending the call and moving the phone away from his face, he stared at the photo again, thumb hovering over the ‘save’ option, before pressing yes. he’d keep it locked away just for him, a treasured piece of you in his gallery. starting to stroke himself to your perfect body, he waited for the notification that you had deleted the photo from the conversation.

but it never came, though he did, and the photo remained buried under new food posts sent from you.

yet it wasn’t til a few weeks after that iwa began to think that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as much of an accident as you made it out to be.

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu crack #college au #haikyuu college au #matsukawa #hanamaki #oikawa #iwaizumi #haikyuu!!#iwa x reader

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gureishi · 3 years

Note

I'm the same anon who asked!

Could you talk about Saeran? It doesn't need to be detailed or NSFW, I'm good with anything, I just want to know more about your headcanons!

Hello again lovely anon! ♡

Oops aaaand once again (no surprise, I know): it’s long. I just wanna preface this one with a couple things:

1. There are quite a few Certified Saeran Simps on this site who truly know him much better than I do. Take whatever I say with a grain of salt—I’m no expert!

2. I’m also not an expert on DID! Which isn’t the focus of these HCs, but is obviously relevant. I read lots of books! About brains n stuff! But please never hesitate to tell me if I describe something poorly.

3. I wrote for the AS timeline here but if you want me to talk about SE Saeran or Unknown tell me and you know I will <3

Tw: discussion of childhood abuse, neglect, and subsequent trauma symptoms

Saeran’s body headcanons

A child who grows up the way Saeran did—kept indoors, often physically restrained, and sometimes starved—is not going to develop in a healthy way. There’s a reason why, even as an adult, Saeran is a full 2 cm shorter than his identical twin: he never gets the nutrition and exercise that kids need in order to grow.

We know that his mother uses his sickliness as an excuse to keep him indoors: but was he born sickly, or is he sick and weak because he’s been malnourished and kept from running or playing or interacting with other children? He breathes stale, dry air all day; he’s living on mostly white bread, and not always at regular intervals (plus whatever sweets his brother can steal for him from the outside world). He is not well.

Child Saeran never learns any sports or games. He doesn’t learn how to play with other children, or tie his shoes, or make himself a snack. Adult Saeran doesn’t know how to skip—you’ll have to teach him.

If the twins didn’t have each other, neither one of them would have survived.

And as we know, the neglect that Saeran endures worsens tenfold after Saeyoung leaves. Any glimpses he was getting of the outside world—sneaking out when their mother was unconscious, getting whatever snacks and books Saeyoung could gather for him at church—are cut off.

I’m not gonna tell you when the alters appear, because I am by no means an expert on DID. From studies I’ve read, I can say that typically alters become manifest after a “traumatic turning point” (which is not necessarily the “worst” trauma endured, but simply a particularly salient traumatic experience). It’s definitely possible that the alters emerge in late childhood, while he is still in the house with his mother.

When Saeran is taken from his mother’s home by Rika and V, he is (needless to say) not in good shape. He is painfully skinny, extremely malnourished, and very weak. He still has his red hair and golden eyes, but already he is looking less and less like his brother: his cheeks are hollow and his eyes are dull.

There is a brief period of time, before his “cleansing” (Oh god. We’ll get there), where he is reasonably well cared for. For the first time in his life, he is eating meals—and he is getting to bathe regularly, and he is getting his hair cut and combed. He still believes, at this time, that he’ll be reunited with his brother. And he is going outside! He is learning how the grass feels between his toes and how the sky looks through clear eyes.

As we know: this doesn’t last.

The elixir is a truly horrifying combination of hallucinogenic substances. No human could consume this cocktail of drugs repeatedly and feel well: and Saeran is already physically weak, and severely underweight. The fact that he survives as long as he does under these conditions is a miracle.

We know that he is being tortured at this time, too: physically as well as emotionally. Saeran has scars, like his brother; while Saeyoung has lots and lots of tiny scars all over his body, Saeran has larger, more distinct scars: perhaps on his wrists, and his throat, and his ankles.

It is around this time that his eyes and hair change. The means by which this happens is incredibly vague in-game, and everyone’s individual HCs are valid. My personal belief is this: he dyes his own hair—first, in a frenzied, desperate attempt to stop seeing his brother looking back at him from the mirror. He keeps dying it because Rika approves: and he never does a good job, and it’s rough and fried, and that “pink” at the bottom? Just the red showing through his patchy dye job.

As for his eyes: I personally believe they change as a result of the elixir. If they were contacts, I don’t think that GE Saeran would necessarily still wear them—and in every timeline, he has those startling blue-green eyes.

The alters take care of the body in different ways.

Ray does not feed himself. He lives on caffeine pills and sweets (and, of course, the concoction of drugs that he’s being fed in increasingly large amounts). The body becomes even skinner when Ray is fronting. And he bites his nails and fingers—brutally, so they are chapped and cut and scarred. But Ray goes outside, and he works in the garden under the sun: his body is getting some form of exercise: and this is good for his lungs, and invigorates his weak, tired muscles.

Ray also takes care of his appearance—something Saeran never did before. He brushes and styles his hair; he dresses himself carefully in the clothes Rika has picked for him; he covers himself in beautiful scents so that he is more appealing to you.

When Suit is fronting, he wants to strip his body of anything that reminds him of Ray. So he styles his hair differently (but still: he is styling it), and he tries desperately to wash the scent of Ray off his skin. He doesn’t feed himself, either—but, if any of the alters are trying to become physically strong, it is Suit (of course). I’m certain that the Believers have a workout regime they’re supposed to be following; maybe Suit even does it (on his own, of course, in secret). He knows he needs to be able to protect himself—and he needs to feel powerful.

When you meet Ray, you don’t notice right away just how poorly he is doing. Rika has intentionally dressed him in a way that hides just how bony he is—and he wears those little gloves, of course, so you don’t see his ravaged fingers. But it doesn’t take long to catch on: he is so skinny you could almost blow him away, and there are dark shadows under his eyes, and he doesn’t sound like he’s taken a deep breath in years.

By the time you meet Suit, you already know the state their body is in: malnourished and weak. Ray cooked for you, but you wish you could cook for all of them; and even when Suit is starving you (in other words: reenacting the very abuse that was dealt to him in childhood), you wish you could wrap him in a big blanket and feed him a bowl of soup.

The Saeran that escapes Magenta with you—GE Saeran: the fusion of Ray and Suit (or a new alter, depending on what you believe)—has never made a single choice for himself in his whole life, until this moment. He never got to pick his own clothes, or what he would eat (if he ate at all), or how he would speak, or what he would do. Running away with you is the first real choice he has ever made—and no wonder this is pivotal and transformative for him.

The AE doesn’t portray the timeline of healing in a realistic way. After two weeks, we see GE Saeran so much healthier, both physically and mentally. And yes: two weeks of eating real food and sleeping in a bed make a difference: we see him with fuller cheeks and brighter eyes.

But what the game doesn’t address is the withdrawal he likely endures when he stops taking the elixir, which is full of substances that are both dangerous and addictive. It doesn’t address the time it takes to build up muscle mass, and get accustomed to healthy sleeping and eating habits, and to begin to heal from years and years of repeated trauma.

GE Saeran doesn’t heal right away, because healing doesn’t work that way. It’s not linear, or straightforward, or simple, or beautiful. It’s slow, and sometimes it’s painful.

But he does heal.

A Saeran who is in love with you is soft, and patient, and willing to put in the months and years (a lifetime!) of hard work to heal his body and his heart. You’ll get to watch as the dark circles under his eyes disappear, and his cheeks become less hollow, and his body grows stronger as he cooks (with you, and for you) and eats real meals and learns to run in the grass the way he never did before. He’ll make a garden, and you’ll get to see how he looks with sun on his face, his eyes clear as the sky as he gazes up at you—smiling.

You can show him how to moisturize his dry lips and cracked hands; you can help him pick out clothes he likes to wear; and you will learn how to support him when his memories haunt him.

And you can hold him: this beautiful, small, soft man, with his thin shoulders and scarred fingers. He’ll close his eyes and you’ll taste the sun on his skin as you kiss his eyelashes. He smells of earth and sky; he loves you with all the power of the universe.

#mystic messenger #saeran choi #ray #suit saeran #headcanons #asks #anon #body headcanons

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imperatriceauxdiamants · 3 years

Text

THE HAIR CROWN

The KEYWORDS I go for, for my hairstyle:

• Clean

• Smells AMAZING

• Soft to the touch

• Natural-looking but just a bit manicured

• No tangles whatsoever

• No roots, no odd colors

• Go big or go home

My hair type: 2A, caucasian hair.

Foreword

This guide is what worked best for MY hair. I'm white, with wavy 2b hair that gets split really easily and has difficulty making coherent waves, and it's just right under my shoulders. If you're a different type, this guide might not work so well for you.

How I clean my hair

I preshampoo with some hair oil, which means I apply an generous amount of cheap hair oil (this isn't the moment to spend tons of money), so the ends aren't stripped too much of their oils while I shampoo. I use the Klorane Mango shampoo which smells so divine, applying only to the roots. You don't wanna wash everything, just the roots. The soap will get to the ends when you'll rinse. No need to make the hair squeak. If it squeaks it means too much was stripped.

After shampooing my hair, I pull softly most of the water then I use 2 nut sized doses of the Klorane Cucuapu conditioner which is richer than their mango one. I apply it at the mid-length, then brush through softly with my wet brush to the ends. I make sure every one of my ends are coated in conditioner.

I wait at least 15 minutes, so the conditioner has time to penetrate into my hair. Meanwhile I sometimes do basic stretches, message friends or I check out Tumblr (this is my down time, self care time). Sometimes I do a face mask too!

Once the 15 min are up, I rinse it out with warm-cold water. Very important as it helps smooth down the hair and doesn't strips away the conditioner's good stuff that was deposited into my hair.

I remove most of the water softly with my hands, then use a microfiber cloth or a cotton tee-shirt to remove most of the humidity. I use 1-2 pumps of hair oil on my hair, from the mid-lengths to the very ends, brush it out with a wet brush then I scrunch my hair so my waves are more defined and formed.

I preferably let it air-dry, as blow-drying is just gonna destroy the waves and create a fizzy mess.

How I style my hair

Once it's fully dry, I evaluate whether if the waves didn't form much or they fully did form (I swear they have moods), and I add more hair oil, then use the flat iron to reinforce some waves or redefine them. You can get those tiny flat irons for very cheap, they work well for those small corrections. Preferably, if the waves didn't form, I do a bun/braid hairstyle instead of using excessively the heat tools and damaging my hair. Healthy, shiny and natural hair is always winning over styled crappy hair.

Hair coloring

My honest opinion about hair coloring: your natural, healthy hair is always gonna be the best, deepest, multinuanced, glamorous color there is. But obviously if you want to change your hair color, I recommend low maintenance solutions like baby highlights, balayage, lowlights, highlights, even soft ombre looks, and temporary 1-month dyes. Those dye jobs are extremely easy to maintain, don't damage as much as complete dye jobs, NEVER give you awful roots, and look nice most times, even if it was done 3 months ago.

I also recommend to stay within your natural hair color so it doesn't looks gauche and odd. Your natural hair color certainly suits you 99% of the time. If you're brown-haired, I'd recommend to go for lighter brown highlights or balayage, or go espresso brown. If you're blonde-haired, stay within the blonde colors, and so on.

Also, never do drastic changes, like going from light brown to jet black. If you regret it, you're kinda stuck with the color and the damage it leads to. Do transitions, try temporary dye jobs (btw, they work wonderfully to try out darker colors), bleach your hair bit by bit.

Also, unnatural hair colors (flamboyant red, pink, and so on) arent good ideas for hypergamy as most men want natural glamorous women. The bleach required for those dye jobs DAMAGES HEAVILY the hair, tried it and I'll never ever go back.

To protect your hair from damage and to partially repair the damage, I recommend you use Olaplex 3. It is expensive but it works wonderfully, you use little at a time and it stays for at least one month.

Hairstyles I love to do

Sport: High barbie ponytail or French equestrian braid.

Work: low ponytail, tie wrapped with an hairstrand, French bun updo. Anything that pulls the hair out of your face. It makes you seem more trustworthy to have your face clear.

Dates: romantic braids, loose hair, anything very relaxed works best, 60s blowout. Men LOVE loose wavy/curly hair.

Study: Protective low tension hairstyles like loose braid, or buns. Nothing that pulls the hair painfully.

School: braid bun, ballerina bun, barbie ponytail, half-up bun

Formal: braid bun with loose wavy strands, hair down, 60s blowout.

#hair #hypergamy #glowup #levelup

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kyotakumrau · 3 years

Text

2021.04.06 a talk event at Meguro Rock-May-Kan film screening at Namba Hatch with Kyo and Shinya - PART 2

Report by とあ on twitter (topics are not reported in order things happened, I followed the order they posted, 1st and 2nd session are mixed)

"What is Shinya's hair colour called? Is it okay to copy you [and dye my hair the same colour]?"

Shinya: Violet rose.

Fujieda: How about copying?

Shinya: It's fine.

Kyo: ... Violet rose?! It's called violet rose? (laughing)

Fujieda: It's sounds like a song title.

Kyo: Like our next song? Doesn't sound exciting at all (laughing).

Kyo: Did you name it Violet rose yourself?

Shinya: No, when I requested pink shade I got this colour, when I asked what colour is it I got told it's Violet rose.

Kyo: It's not pink at all.

"Which place is painful to get tattooed on?"

Kyo: It's said that the hand's palm and back of the foot. The one on this hand was done by the person who did the tattoo on my back, but she lives in Germany. She told me it's easy for the colour to fade on the palm. That's why she told me she will use an ink that's not approved in Japan but will not fade, and she did it for me.

Fujieda: It's really not fading.

Kyo: That's why she used some weird ink. Suspicious one, with something bad for people in it.

There are four small tattoos on this hand

(during this talk Kyo was showing his palm almost all the time)

Shift of conversation to the topic of tattooing a giraffe on Fujieda's back.

Kyo: A giraffe going all over your back to your thighs.

Fujieda: And the head would be on the neck?

Kyo: No, on the shoulder. So when you move your arm the giraffe's head would move as well. If I had a machine I could do it on you.

Fujieda: When there's a chance.

Kyo: Eh, if there's a machine?

(*there's a brilliant word play here with 機械・machine and 機会・opportunity both being read as 'kikai'🤣)

Kyo: Then I'm going to get the machine and tattoo you. Using that not approved ink from Germany.

Fujieda: No no no, we're talking about different 'kikai'.

Fujieda: "I'm in trouble eating too much. What should I do?"

Kyo: Eat!

"What do you drink when you wake up?"

Shinya: Cola.

"What lip balm do you use?"

Kyo: Cola flavour.

"A drink you like"

Kyo: Ehm... Dekavita, Oronamin C, things like that. But it's not good to drink those too much.

"Favorite chocolate sweets"

Kyo: Ehm... there are too many. ...Ah, but I love cheap sweets.

"When you eating a candy do you suck it till the end or do you crunch it?

Kyo: I crunch it from the start.

"Your favorite Japanese sweets"

Shinya: Ichigo daifuku (rice cake with a strawberry)

"Anything special about Namba Hatch, first time in a while?"

Shinya: Not really. First time since we played here and not for a show. It's feels quite empty.

Kyo: I have something I buy every time I come to Osaka, but I'm annoyed because they weren't sold. Half of me is made of sweets! I always buy 3 or 4 flavours of Curl before going back but I couldn't find them.

(*Curl is a corn puff snack)

Kyo: I never talk to the shop clerk, but this time I checked the shop few times and couldn't find it so I asked. I got told they only have cheese flavour so I got it and left.

Kyo: But don't send me Curl. It'd be troublesome to start receiving so many Curl packs. I'd get them myself.

Before I bought 4 packs to take home but by the time I was home I only had one left.

"What type of dogs do you like?"

Kyo: It's a secret. You'll know eventually.

Shinya: small dogs.

"What colours do you like besides members colours?"

Takavayashi: How were those colours decided? By the hair colour?

Kyo: That's what I think?

Shinya: They were decided without my knowledge.

Takabayashi: it's pink for you, right? Although it doesn't really match you?

What colour do you like best?

Shinya: Black.

(two if them look at each other in silence and laugh)

Takabayashi: How about you Kyo?

Kyo: Pink!

"Merchandise item you like"

Shinya: I guess the travel pouch.

Fujieda: Are you using it?

Shinya: Today I brought a smaller one.

Fujieda: Eh? You use it...

Kyo: He said he doesn't. The size is wrong.

Fujieda: Btw where's your bag from?

Shinya: It's from MUJI.

Fujieda: How was the hot pack? It's warm!

Handed it to Kyo

Kyo: Yeah, it's warm... but it was supposed to be released last time.

Fujieda: Eh? Saying that does it mean it was your idea??!

Kyo: Yup. Actually I wanted to have it last year, last year end was cold right? But the design wasn't done in time.

That's why it didn't come that time, just now. Niw it's not needed anymore. ...I hope you can use it next winter.

(*aaaaah so that's why he was poking at Fujieda so much about it☹️ it'd have been great last December!😆 but it'd definitely be useful next winter!!😊)

Fujieda: That's true, let's use it next winter. And it can also be used as a power bank so that can be used now.

Power strip.

Fujieda: Before this event Shinya was using this backstage. There aren't enough outlets backstage.

Kyo: Lol... is there really that few outlets backstage?

Fujieda: Well... not that few. But he was using it.

Kyo: Huhm.

Kyo (looks at Shinya): what is that, drawn on it?

Shinya got the power strip in his hands.

Shinya: That is cats who got electrocuted.

Kyo: Those are cats? Why cats?

Shinya: Who knows.

Fujieda: But isn't it cute?

Kyo: Yup, ...I guess it is.

Kyo likes the hoodie.

Kyo: The design in the back was drawn by the person who is my tattoo artist after I asked.

Fujieda: Why a hoodie?

Kyo: Eh?If its something to use it at home... you can't use a heat pack at home. Only a loony would use a heat pack at home. It's better to just turn on the heating. So it'd be crazy to use heat packs at home.

Kyo: and then you also won't use the pass case. And no use for the travel pouch at home nor the sticker...

Fujieda: What about the tote bag? Shinya is using it, for his shoes etc.

Shinya: I'm using it. I didn't bring it today though.

"In an old interview you said that because you couldn't afford to stay in a hotel you slept in the car and thought of sleeping position like yoga, what kind of position was it?"

Kyo: I said that?

Takabayashi: In a magazine interview I think? Didn't you said you didn't stay in a hotel?

Kyo: Saying I slept in the car, it must have been when traveling?

Kyo: You're sitting, right? There's someone next to you so totally no space. Saying it's like yoga, so like this, your head goes down and your legs go up, kinda have to turn around

Shinya: I thought then Kyo had a great idea, when I tried it, it was comfortable.

Kyo: I've put a plastic box in the legs and used it for my head, rose my legs, like L shape.

Fujieda: Is that really comfortable?

Kyo: Yup.

Takabayashi: There won't be any swelling, if you raise your legs.

Kyo: But in the past, when we got to the venue I was in that position some fan suddenly opened our car's door. I was so upset she saw the L shape position.

Fujieda: It's also hard to believe someone would just suddenly open your car door.

"How do you like your meat cooked?"

Kyo: rary rare

Fujieda: You mean to grill it only a little bit? Like sizzle siz..done?

Kyo: Yup.

Fujieda: How about you Shinya?

Shinya: Medium rare.

Kyo: You don't eat Yukhoe? (*dish similar to tartare steak)

Kyo: Isn't it rary rare?

Shinya: But that's special.

"A song you just hum"

Kyo: the '♪gohan ga susumu gohan ga susumu♪' one

"Do you look at the needle when you get an injection?"

Kyo: Fixedly. I also watch when I'm getting tattooed.

"You should know that ZARAME DONUTS bacon donuts will come back, so don't worry."

Kyo: .......? What? How do you know that?

Fujieda: When we were in Nagoya we got told the same. That for now they are gone but they will be available again.

Kyo: Uhm... Who are they? Why do they know this? Are you the shop's spy or something??

"A vegetable you like"

Kyo: what spring veg are there?

Fujieda: Bamboo shoots and so on.

Kyo: Bamboo shoots!

"What are you into right now."

Kyo: Sneakers and Bugs Bunny.

Fujieda: Batsu Bani?!

Kyo: Batsu Bani lol

Fujieda: What's that? Batsu Bani?

Kyo: It's a character...

Fujieda: Eh? Do you know it?

Takabayashi: Of course.

Fujieda: Batsu Bani... I have no idea. I didn't bring my phone so I can't check... What kind of character is it?

Kyo: I said.

Fujieda: Baksu Bani?? ...ah! Bunny! It's a rabbit?

"What fabric softener do you use?"

Shinya: No preference. Something smooth

Takabayashi: Not the pods?

Shinya: No. Water... should rather say liquid.

Takabayashi: I'll look for it next time.

Kyo: Any softener would be okay for me, but there's Fafa, isn't the bear super cute? Have you seen that commercial? Where the bear falls on the towels. It's very cute. Watch it. It's on the net. It makes me feel better even when I'm irritated.

Fujieda: So at the moment you like two characters, FaFa bear and Bugs Bunny.... !!! Bugs Bunny! You meant Bugs Bunny!

Kyo: You finally got it 😆

#dir en grey #kyo #京 #shinya #talk event #爆音会 #目黒鹿鳴館gig #translation

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Dye Day Disasters

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/Reader

Word Count: 2,377

Warnings: None!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Dio dyes his hair black every three weeks, and he does so in his bathroom. He has it all down to a science, so he should have no problem helping you dye your hair a fun color, right? Let’s just hope this afternoon project doesn’t turn into a colorful hair fail.

“I’m going out!”

You looked up, seeing Dio by the door, stepping into his boots. “Where to?”

Dio shrugged. “Drug store. It’s dye day.”

Almost immediately, you were up and by his side. “I’m coming.”

“You aren’t dressed,” Dio pointed out. “And why?”

“I wanna dye my hair too,” you said. “Wait here, I’ll be ready in ten.”

True to your word, you were ready in ten minutes. Dio rolled his eyes, but put his arm over your shoulders as you two walked down the street to the drug store on the corner. The summer sun was warm on your skin as you walked, and you had no idea how the hell Dio wasn’t dying in his leather coat.

“Alright,” Dio said once you were in front of the dyes in the drug store. “What color do you want?” As he spoke, he reached over you and grabbed a bottle of black dye for himself.

You shrugged, looking over the dyes. “I dunno. Will I need bleach?”

“Probably. I’ve got some at home, but grab another one just in case.”

You grabbed a bottle of bleach and continued to consider your colors. “What about this?” You pointed to a bottle of hair dye that was the color of maraschino cherries called ‘Poison’. “Danger Days red!”

Dio snorted. “Mhm. Okay Gerard. If you want our bathroom to look like a crime scene, go right ahead.”

You laughed, continuing down the line. “Beetlejuice green?”

“Yeah,” Dio said. “It’d look good on you.”

Humming, you kept looking. “I’ve made up my mind,” you announced, grabbing the ‘Iris green’ and the ‘Virgin pink’ dyes. “We can half-and-half it!”

Dio smiled. “You’ll look like a watermelon.”

“And you’ll look like a bottle of ink again when we’re done,” you pointed out, walking happily to the counter.

When you got back to the apartment, Dio popped over your windows while you dragged your office chair into the kitchen. Spinning it eagerly, you lined up the various dyes on the kitchen counter and called Dio in.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked, seeing you emptying the sink.

“Bathroom gets cramped when it’s the both of us,” you reminded him. “Plus, this chair is infinitely better than bending over the sink.” To demonstrate, you sat in the chair and tipped all the way back, fumbling with the lever on the bottom that would lock it in place. “See?”

Dio sighed, looking over the dyes. “Fine. Drag the chair back over here. I’m bleaching your hair first.”

Rolling back towards Dio, you smiled watching him take his jacket off. “Comfy?” He asked, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Yep!”

Dio popped open the bleach and expertly mixed it in a dye bowl. He set the bowl on the counter and looked at you. “Do you like that shirt?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’ll ruin it,” Dio said. “Put this on.” He handed you an oversized Panic! at the Disco shirt with bleach and dye stains around the collar. You stripped out of your shirt and put Dio’s on, sitting back down and letting Dio put a towel across your shoulders.

“Ready?” Dio asked.

You nodded. “Do it.”

Dio smiled at your enthusiasm and slowly began to section your hair, using a surprising amount of hair clips. You relaxed into the chair, knowing you’d probably be here for a while. Scrolling aimlessly through your phone, you eventually found a playlist you’d made for Dio some time back. It was entirely the small sliver where his taste in music overlapped with yours. As soon as you hit play, Twenty One Pilots began to play, and Dio chuckled from behind you.

“Why don’t you bleach your hair?” You asked as Dio began to brush the bleach onto your hair.

“I’m going from brown to black. I don’t need to bleach it,” Dio said. “If you were going to black, we wouldn’t be bleaching your hair either.”

You had to stop yourself from nodding. “Okay. Why do you dye your hair?”

Dio paused. “You’re just full of questions today, aren’t you?”

“I’m curious, you emo fuck.”

That drew a laugh out of Dio. “Yeah yeah. I dye my hair because I like having black hair,” he said. “I tried vibrant colors years ago, but I liked having black hair the most.”

You thought about it for a minute. “Wait. If today is dye day, does that mean if we shaved your head, it would be completely brown?”

Dio stopped what he was doing and turned the chair around so you were face to face with him, his hands on the armrests trapping you in place. “Do not,” he said slowly. “We are not shaving my head.”

You nodded, eyes wide. “Okay mr. I’m in charge here. Not shaving your head. Got it.”

Satisfied, Dio turned you back around and continued to mess with your hair. You, still somewhat scared, sat very still as he worked, until he was wrapping your head in plastic wrap and pulling the towel from your shoulders. “Alright. Half an hour, but we’ll check it at twenty minutes.” And then he was gone, headed into the bathroom. You followed, regaining some of the confidence Dio had intimidated out of you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, seeing Dio take his shirt off. “I thought we were doing this in the kitchen.”

“We are,” Dio said, opening the bathroom cabinet and rummaging through it. “I’d just rather not get hair everywhere in the kitchen.” He resurfaced with a pair of scissors. “Have you never seen me do this before?”

You shook your head. “You cut your own hair?”

Dio nodded, ruffling his hair and examining himself in the mirror. “Yeah. I could do yours too, if you want.”

“Yeah no, I’ll leave that to the professionals,” you said, sitting on the edge of the bathroom counter and kicking your legs.

“I am a professional.”

You snorted. “Box dyeing and trimming your own hair doesn’t make you a professional, Dio.”

Dio shrugged one shoulder. “My sister, the oldest one, went to cosmetology school. I was her guinea pig. Eventually, I managed to graduate to the rank of her student. She taught me everything I know about all of this.”

“Huh.” You hadn’t even considered that. “Is she the one who visited last month and told you that you look like an oil spill?”

“Yeah, she is.”

You nodded. “I liked her.”

Dio finished his hair quickly, put a shirt back on, and herded you back into the kitchen to check the bleach. “Eh. We’ll wait the extra ten,” he said. “This stuff is powerful, so you’ll only need one round of bleach.”

The extra ten minutes were wasted with food. Dio sat on the counter while you spun lazily in the chair, humming to yourself and eating. When the timer went off, Dio hopped up and turned the sink on while you readjusted the chair.

“The water won’t be warm,” Dio warned you, but you just shrugged, rolling towards the sink.

Despite the warning, you flinched when the cool water hit your head, and Dio sighed. “Told you.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he returned the favor, giving you a flash of his tongue piercing in the process.

Somehow, you managed to relax into the water after a minute. It probably helped that Dio was slowly massaging your head, turning your body into jelly as he worked shampoo through your hair. When he was done, he wrapped your head in a towel and helped you sit up, looking you over for bleach burns. You had none, so he kissed the back of your neck and grabbed your hair dryer.

“Aren’t we gonna dye your hair?” You asked as he unwrapped the towel on your head.

“Yeah. When I finish yours,” he said, turning the hair dryer on and killing any protests you had.

Dio nearly put you to sleep with the hair dryer. It was warm, and he was running his free hand through your hair, and you were just about to fall asleep when he turned the dryer off and poked your shoulders. “Time to dye,” he said in a sinister voice, and you laughed.

“Dork.”

“Sap,” he said in return, mixing the dyes in two separate bowls. “Now’s the time to say something if you want me to cut your hair.”

You shook your head. “Just the color this time.”

Dio nodded, picking up his hair clips and putting them on the edge of his sleeve. He slowly and methodically sectioned your hair in half, clipping down the left side and leaving the right side loose. He turned away, and you heard the harsh snap of rubber gloves. The towel was around your shoulders once more, and then Dio was painting electric pink dye into your hair. He started near the back, so you couldn’t see a single thing he was doing. But you trusted him, so you let him continue, occasionally turning the chair when he asked so he could have better access to your head.

When the pink was done, the green was next. Dio unclipped the left section of hair, humming along to the unbearably adorable Train song you were playing. “Still sure about the watermelon colors?”

“Still sure,” you confirmed, holding up your phone. “Smile!”

Dio looked up and smiled, knowing this photo wouldn’t ever see the light of day. While he started to work the green into your hair, you made the photo your phone background. It was cute, and while Dio wasn’t known for being cute, you knew him differently than everyone else did.

“Green’s done,” Dio announced after a bit. “Let me just wrap it up and then you can do my hair.”

You were plenty eager to dye Dio’s hair, so you sat still as he wrapped your head up again. When he was done, you and him traded places.

“Just read the instructions carefully,” Dio said as you opened the dye. “It’s not as hard as it sounds.”

Dio was right. The instructions where simple, and you were soon pulling on a pair of gloves and putting a towel over Dio’s shoulders. You poured the black dye into the bowl and picked up the brush. “So what?” You asked, standing behind Dio. “I just paint it on?”

“You’re doing my roots, it’ll be easiest if you brush it on and then go back through with your hands,” Dio explained. “Just do what I did on your head. It’ll be hard to fuck this up.”

Nodding, you picked up the brush and began to apply the dye. It was a lot like painting, which you didn’t suck at. You, at Dio’s recommendation, did his hair in sections, the same way you had seen people straighten their hair. It was easy to gain a rhythm like this, and before you knew it, you were done. Dio took over, wrapping his head in plastic wrap and falling onto the couch. “Alright. Half an hour at the least.”

You two cuddled and watched some conspiracy theory show Dio liked, having to pause the episode about Mothman because your timer went off.

“Alright watermelon head,” Dio said, tipping the chair back and gesturing for you to sit. “Let’s get this done.”

Again, you went boneless as Dio used cold water to rinse your hair. Despite the chill that raced down your spine, his hands were experienced and helped relax you as he worked.

“Y’know,” you said softly while Dio was still working. “You could totally do this for a living. You’re good at it.”

“What, dye hair?” Dio asked.

You shrugged as best you could. “No. You could do what your sister does. For a living instead of just for you and me.”

Dio sighed. “Not my thing,” he said. “I’ll stick to doing your head and my own head, thank you very much.”

That was promptly the end of that conversation, mostly because Dio was helping you upright and turning on the hair dryer again. This time, you didn’t fall asleep, focused instead on Dio standing in front of you. His sternum was at your eye level, and you were half tempted to lift his shirt and kiss his belly. But you didn’t, mostly out of fear he’d fuck your hair up.

When he finished, you stood and he sat, tipping the chair back so you could wash his hair.

“No soap?”

“Nope.”

“Cold water?”

“Yep.”

You nodded, turning the sink on and beginning to rinse Dio’s hair. The water ran black for a while while you used your hands to massage Dio’s head, and when it finally ran clear, you turned the water off and squeezed the excess from Dio’s hair. He sat up while you messed with the dryer, turning it on and slowly beginning to dry Dio’s hair.

It took him some time to realize you’d put an attachment on the hair dryer. “Are you diffusing my hair?”

“Maybe,” you said happily, already seeing the curls Dio did his best to hide. “C’mon!” You said upon seeing the displeasure on his face. “Your curls are so pretty!”

Dio continued to pout while you dried his hair, and when you were done, he stood and stretched, shaking his head. “You did good. Wanna see?”

You nodded, pulling Dio into the bathroom and eagerly looked at yourself in the mirror. Dio looked almost no different, the black a bit more prominent and less faded than usual. But you, you looked like a whole different person. The vibrant green and pink gave you life and made you look unforgettable.

“I love it!” You said, ruffling your hair. “Oh it’s so cool!”

Dio smiled. “I’m glad you like it,” he said.

You sent photos to your friends and family while Dio cleaned up, eventually joining you back on the couch so you could finish your conspiracy theory show.

“Thank you,” you said out of the blue, watching someone who claimed to have definitely seen Mothman.

“Hm?” Dio looked down at you, the hand that was running through your hair stopping. “What?”

“Thank you,” you repeated. “For my hair.”

Dio shrugged. “Just doing my job,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Love you.”

“I love you too, you dork.”

#nypd blue #shane 'dio' morrissey #dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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her0brine · 3 years

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Here’s the second part to my ‘Steve & Alex meeting for the first time’ fic! It immediately picks up where the first part ends, so please make sure to read the first part to understand what’s going on so far!

After a few more minutes of walking together in the silent dark, a small gasp of awe comes out of Alex when seeing Steve’s home.

“W-wow! It’s so..... cute!! You even have some little shacks, and I think I see a farm as well? It’s pretty dark out so I can’t really tell. I can kind of make out what colors you used for the facade though, and it looks so quaint!” they say, as they pick up their pace one last time, actually surpassing a surprised Steve and stopping at the house’s front door. It was illuminated by a lone lantern, hanging by the carved door.

“Well, are you going to invite me in?” Alex playfully says, while Steve briefly looks at them with mild shyness before focusing on opening the doorknob. The door swings open and Steve enters first, before gesturing towards Alex to enter the adjacent room to the right. Alex now enters the home, gasping in awe again when noticing the detailed interior. The first thing they saw was the impressively large living room, which suddenly grew to be much larger when Steve turned on another wall-mounted lantern. It revealed a heavily detailed floor, richly colored walls lined with numerous paintings, and dozens of various lounge furniture, all surrounding a interior fire pit, as a glass ceiling shone moonlight above it. Alex can only assume Steve breaks down the glass when it’s in use, if not then their entire home can easily go up in flames. As Alex diverts their gaze from the living room, Steve was in the adjacent room, turning the lights on there alongside rifling through a dyed pink shulker box. They soon pulled out a potion of healing, before timidly looking back at Alex. They shift their gaze to a singular chair next to a table, when Alex soon realized they were in their kitchen, as evidenced by the walls lined with numerous smokers and crafting tables, and even more color coded shulker boxes, although their contents are unknown to Alex.

They lean against the chair, trying to avoid pushing the broken arrow in lodged their back even more deeper into their flesh, while now fully looking at the whole arrow still sticking out of their bloodied shoulder.

“Hey, do you think you could uh...... c-cut this out of me? I can’t pull these out, as it’ll make the wounds worse, and I don’t want to be either infected through there or that heavily scared from the woun-“ they manage to say, before really talking a better look at Steve’s appearance in the illuminated room. Other than the obvious such as the color of their outfit and the mud and spider blood that splattered across their clothes, Alex did not notice the massive scars that littered Steve’s body when they were outside. The most prominent ones were around their hands, almost as if their fingers were chopped off and reattached, since the regrown rings of flesh around their digits was noticeably thick. A pronounced large scar makes their way down from Steve’s right eyebrow ride down to their cheek, going straight through their right eye. Not to mention the old bite-like scar around their neck, something that could only be done by a wolf or even a zombie possibly. Their disheveled hair and being covered in the soot from mining all day also adds to their ragged appearance.

It seems like being stared at in awkward silence as Alex combs them from head-to-toe has only made Steve more self-conscious than usual, as they begin to look at the yellow glazed terracotta flooring, slightly murmuring in discomfort as they gently shake the potion in their hands a little bit, hoping it would snap Alex out of staring so intently at them.

“I.... I uh...... so. Got a knife in this kitchen? W-wait uh these potions you mentioned earlier, they can just, PUSH stuff out of the body right? I’m sorry if I’m a bit naive about this, potions aren’t really my ‘thing’. I favor just doing things the more old school traditional way, you know, apples and milk and the sorts.” as Alex stifles out a small laugh, hoping to lighten up the mood after realizing what they have done.

“Y...yeee......... yeEEAAhh.....” Steve manages to croak out, before gently placing the potion of healing on the stripped birch wood table Alex is seated next to. Alex seems to stare quite uncomfortably at the potion, perturbed by the pulsating glow it has within its bottle.

“I guess I just drink it now right? I hope I don’t uh, bleed too much in your kitchen, it’s pretty clean, ha ah......” Alex says as they clasp their hands around the neck of the potion’s bottle, now pulling the cork off with their other hand. Before drinking however, Steve murmurs loudly and waves their hands to stop them, now realizing they forgot to tell them something. They run out of the room, their footsteps reverberating through the kitchen and the connected room, as they make their way up a staircase that Alex hasn’t seen, but can sort of make out how tall it is by Steve’s worried stomps along the many steps. They rush back into the room once again, this time with their hands full of paper and charcoal, and they got back to feverishly scribbling on them. Alex fiddles with their hands as Steve continues to write, but Alex’s suppressed small groans of pain during this seems to make them write even more rushed than before. They soon finish and placed the note on the table, as Alex picks it up to read aloud once more.

“Okay let me read this, thank you! Alrighty! ‘You should stand up when drinking, as yes, the potion will push out the arrows from your body. I cannot lie, it does feel quite unpleasant when it does happen. You can brace yourself against the chair, so you don’t tip over from the rush of sudden pain. I can leave the room now when you do drink, I don’t want to make this even more uncomfortable for you. You won’t bleed that much, as the potion immediately makes any lost or damaged flesh and bone grow back. The scars will fade quickly over time, especially since it’s a arrow entry wound, as it’ll likely be a small pale spot. When you’re done, just knock on the table and I’ll come in again. Just one thing though, what is your favorite color? I’m going to craft your bed now and it’ll be in a newer spare room on the first floor, since I don’t want you to force yourself to walk on the stairs to go up to a older finished spare room there. Apologies if the new spare room is not to your taste, as I didn’t expect to have visitor come over in a situation like this.’ ................ Green. Green is my favorite color. I’m more partial to lime green though, but any shade can work! You could’ve possibly guess my love for green from my top and my eye color though!”

Alex smiles towards Steve as they begin to stand up, and Steve hurriedly leaves the room, not wanting to witness what was going to occur. As they make their way to the spare room, which was actually a storage room for their ores and other construction based items, they can hear the sudden yelps of pain emanating from the kitchen. The chair squeaks across the floor, as Steve can assume Alex didn’t expect it to hurt that sudden after drinking it.

Potions of healing do indeed heal quite well, but the process in which it’s done is akin to having your insides suddenly singed all at once, not also including the areas in which the wounds are, as they become unbearably painful. Steve focuses on the task at hand, trying to ignore what was occurring nearby as they dig through a shulker box they filled with just dyed wool, each row in its inventory being dedicated to bundles filled with a single dyed color. It took them months to harvest such a absurd amount account of wool and the dye they procured to make such a ludicrous amount, but then again, considering the untracked years that Steve has spent alone, they needed something to motivate themselves to just function. Filling out dozens and dozens of chests, shulker boxes, and bundles with a singular item type in such a strictly clean and meticulous fashion seemed to be decent motivation.

They finish up the bed, placing it in the middle back wall of the room, and quickly looked for a redstone lamp to place next to it, along with any sort of block to make a rudimentary night stand. Before they could add anything else to the room to make it more cozy for a actual human being, the loud knocks of Alex hitting their knuckles against the table echoes through the entire house. Steve makes their way back to the kitchen, and sees a drained Alex still propped up against the chair they used to support their weight. Their shallow breaths, accompanied by the two arrows now lying near their feet, next to small puddles of blood fully explains to Steve that the potion was successful, but was physically exhausting on Alex.

Again, Steve’s thoughts gets the best out of them, as they are paralyzed in fear of what to do next. They barely built up the resolve to even touch Alex so far, as every time they try to, they either panicked internally or was told not to. They want to physically hold and comfort them, but are fearful of being rebuked in disgust. Instead they partially gulp down their fear, and shuffled their way to one of the dyed white shulker boxes in the room, pulling out a bucket of milk, still surreally cold even though it was stored for some time. As Alex is still trying to catch their bearings, they gently place the bucket on the table, hoping they would at least see that they’re trying to comfort them.

“T-thAT’S? F-FOR M-MEEee?” Alex barely squeaks out, still breathing heavily. “Oh YES I need this so damn bad you don’t even KNOW” they now blurt out, still clearly winded from the pain but they still proceed to scarf down the whole bucket, as Steve bashfully looks on. A small smile forms on their face though, as they’re glad to see that Alex is feeling a little bit better, but they’re still worried for them, as knowing that resting up well is a huge factor in helping them heal properly.

Alex makes their way to a sink, cleaning off where their wounds were, to see that the blood they bled has fully dried, alongside barely having any indication of having a wound in the first place. As they finish washing up, Steve tries to write down another note in telling them where their room is, but Alex immediately beats them to the punch when noticing them scribbling it down. Steve makes a small gasp at how sudden they seem to immediately recover from a relatively intense experience, but then again they were pretty nonchalant about having those two arrows lodged in their body for some time, so Steve shrugged it off as that’s how high Alex’s pain tolerance is.

Alex follows behind Steve as they cross through the main living room, as Steve soon opens up the room Alex will be resting in. Alex whistles when laying their eyes upon the room, seeing that it was actually a elongated storage room, filled to the brim with various storage blocks and some few stray items in a lone corner. Their vibrant lime green bed juts against the overall organized mood the room had, along with the two accompanying items that Steve hopes will breathe some more life into the room.

“Looks great! Then again I AM essentially crashing here for some time, so I couldn’t ask for more!”

“Eh eh?!”

“Aw don’t look so shocked! I would be sleeping under a tree right now or in a hole probably, this is some luxury class stuff!! Plus it’ll be just maybe like two or three days here, then I’ll leave since I don’t want to a burden...... Well I’ll see you in the morning bud, I’ll take off my clothes since they’re basically caked in shit and I don’t want to ruin a freshly crafted bed already.”

Alex laughs as they actually slap Steve‘s back in a good-natured manner, as Steve could only emit out a small yelp before Alex makes their way to their new bed. They stay glued to the ground for a few seconds, before realizing Alex wasn’t kidding about removing their clothes. They faintly yelp once more before leaving and gently closing the door behind them, as Alex waves goodbye to them.

Steve soon begins to walk down the large living room, heading towards the staircase before suddenly feeling discomfort in their stomach, before realizing that it was indeed their body trying to expel what they once ate earlier. Steve begins to fling themselves up the staircase, trying to make it to their room’s bathroom before throwing up chunks across their dark oak flooring. They barely make it, as bile spews across their shirt as they expel the rest into a sink, their entire body trembling as they continue to retch quite violently.

They didn’t expect this to happen, but they had a feeling it would happen eventually, as Steve was deeply distressed for essentially the entire time they were in proximity of Alex. As they continue to gag and whine as the vomiting fit seems to end, Steve slowly looks up to see their ragged appearance in the mirror, absolutely appalled at how they look. If the vomit wasn’t already disgusting, they were still caked with mud and spider blood, and they didn’t even know they were tracking all of that, alongside soot across their entire home. Still gripping into the sides of the sink, Steve finally breaks under the weight of their own diffidence, weeping at what they could’ve done ‘better’ to make themselves come off as not some terrifying, feral-looking individual but as just a normal person.......

.....Their weeping echoes through the house, as Alex lays awake in their bed, sweat beading down on the side of their face, as they also think to themselves of what they could’ve done ‘better’, as they’re now perturbed of what any of their actions has done to put Steve in such a horrible state............

#so yeah this is just Pain! They clearly want to avoid being a burden on each other but the psychological tension is too high during this....#minecraft #mineblr #steve #Alex #⬜️

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con-fection · 3 years

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ASHES TO ASHES | jim moriarty x reader | part 3/13

Word count: 4.3k

When Sherlock Holmes becomes a man obsessed, James Moriarty becomes a man intrigued. That much, you are about to learn.

The first night in your hotel room, you allow yourself rest. The bed sheets are so soft, and sleeping on a mattress is infinitely more comfortable than the floor of a freezing basement. In many ways, despite your fervent dislike of the decor of the room based on its disingenuity, it is a decent opposite to your life before.

There is no blustering breeze blowing through dark, cracked bricks. There are no semi-dangerous power tools strewn over the floor. The sheets don't scratch at your skin.

You make sure, that night, to check yourself over for injuries. The fire was a major risk, you knew that much, and there had always been the chance that you could get caught in the blaze and burn alive, your body remaining trapped in the same house as those of your step-family's, and your freedom curbed by fire.

And you had come out unscathed.

There were no burns on you, not even the tiniest of markings from something as harmless as a stray ember. There was the chance you were suffering from some mild smoke-inhalation, but you felt completely fine, so you weren't too worried about that.

You wake up earlier than most people, but today, you don't have to get up and start sweeping or work on preparing breakfast. You feel absolutely, devastatingly victorious when there come no shouts of your name, no demands to get out of bed and fix the house.

Freedom feels so utterly delightful.

The only real downside is the lack of birdsong. The kind of birds that will chirp sweetly in the morning with you as their only audience do not thrive in inner-city London. Here, there is the eternal street-chatter, car noises, and taxi calling.

When you turn on the TV, having spent the early morning lounging in bed and enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in soft sheets, the news is reporting live from your street.

There is a news reporter lady talking rapidly to the camera, a microphone clutched tightly in one hand. Behind her lie the remains of your parents' house. The blaze has long-since been extinguished, but there still remains one lone firetruck at the scene. The house itself has practically caved in on itself. Tiles of the roof and pieces of wood that had served as the infrastructure of the house lie lamely scattered around the lawn and driveway. It's a mess of ash and what had once been your childhood home.

The words she's saying are almost imperceivable.

Verona's car had caught fire after all. That alone gives you a smug sense of satisfaction. Just one more thing that she had valued had been stripped from her and desecrated.

"...The police have announced that they are launching a murder inquiry into the deaths of Verona Archer and her nineteen-year-old twin daughters Aubrey and Alora. Detective Inspector Lestrade, who will be heading the inquiry, has declined to comment, but sources have confirmed to us that Reichenbach hero Sherlock Holmes will be consulting."

You sit up, more interested in what she has to say than you had been just moments ago. The murder inquiry was no real surprise - you hadn't exactly tried to cover up the fact that the corpses had been hacked to bits. The mere thought of Sherlock Holmes - an allegedly brilliant civilian detective - on the case, did however shock you slightly.

Taking in a shuddering breath only calms you very slightly.

You had been so, so careful, and this had the potential to become your downfall.

The police, of course, would be on the case. You had been smart - burning everything in the house that had belonged to you. Any item that bore your name or image was to be reduced to ash, now scattered in the wind like black snow.

It was most fortuitous that Verona had caused you to have a life of solitude. Her daughters, of course, had been allowed to go out and socialise as much as they wished. Verona herself would attend dinner parties, and had wormed her way into any and every social scene that she could. Everybody had adored the three of them - Verona Archer, with her perfectly curled blonde hair, pink lips, and her darling twin daughters that were the spitting image of her.

That was a social life that you hadn't been permitted. You had been incredibly resentful at the time. Your parent's families flaked away from you once they had both died - there was nobody who cared to reach out and check on their only child. There was no way of being certain whether or not they would even remember that you had been living in the Archer household.

It was rather unlikely there were even any neighbours that even knew of your existence. That obscurity would hopefully keep you safe.

It's mid-morning by the time you eventually leave the hotel room. You've decided that today you're going to buy some new clothes, get some food, and look for a job that won't ask too many questions, all whilst keeping your head down and staying away from any cameras. The employment will probably come in the form of a seedy pub, which does invoke some kind of revulsion within you.

You have to remind yourself that it won't be for long. This is all temporary - once you're able to acquire some forged documentation you'll be in the clear. This is just one step closer to your happy ever after. You've already endured the hardest part and come out stronger for it.

---

Lestrade has relocated his board, featuring pictures, evidence, and lots of colourful string and thumbtacks, to a bigger room in the police station. The board sits front and center of the room, and is the primary focus of the room's occupants.

The full team has been gathered, all congregating in this one room to try to work cohesively.

"Listen, we're under a lot of scrutiny on this case." Lestrade says, grimacing as he looks between his taskforce and the board.

"And that's your fault." Donovan sniffs. "If you hadn't brought in Sherlock bloody Holmes then I bet that the media wouldn't even care."

"Right, right," John tries to intervene. "Let's just look at the evidence, yeah? And try to solve the case?"

As usual, she seems less than thrilled with John's presence, regarding him less than a teammate and more as a tag-along that Sherlock had somehow procured.

"So what do we actually know then?" Donovan asks, staring unrelentingly at the board.

Sherlock steps forward, pinning another picture to the board, next to the Archer girls. "This is our culprit. She's Verona's step-daughter, the child of a previous marriage of Verona's second husband."

There she is - there you are. It's an old photograph, ridiculously outdated from when you had been in high school. It looks terribly out of place next to the pictures of the Archers when they had been alive. Theirs are recent, good quality images - Verona's had been just the night before she was killed. The twins were impossible to distinguish from one another. All of them had the luxury of smiling at the camera, of being happy.

Lestrade takes over. "Her father died almost a decade ago in a car accident, and her actual mother passed away a while before that from health complications. The dad remarried not too long after his wife's death, so Verona becomes her step-mum, and the twins become step-sisters. She's a few years older than the twins, and we have no clue whatsoever what she had been doing since she finished high school."

"And we have no clue where she is now?" Anderson asks.

"None wha-" Lestrade begins.

Sherlock cuts him off. "No, that's not true. She'll be in a major city, most likely London. She'll either be keeping a low profile, or have a new identity set up already. She will have changed since high school - probably a hair cut, hair dye, or even tattoos, though that's unlikely."

"Right, I'll tell the officers on duty to keep an eye out for her." Lestrade nods, "Though I don't think a picture from years ago is going to help very much."

Donovan frowns slightly, her eyebrows tugging downwards slightly. She bites her lip for a second, her eyes darting between the pictures of the Archer girls when they were alive, their bodies, and their possible murderer. "Do we have a motive yet? Are we sure that this couldn't be a stalker who killed the Archers to kidnap their step-sister? I just can't really see a girl who Verona had raised, who loved the twins as if they were really her sisters, just turning on them like that."

"That's been bothering me too." Lestrade says. "I mean, maybe she felt like an outsider, but -"

"Of course she felt like an outsider." Sherlock says. "Verona took away her step-daughter's bedroom and had her sleep in the basement, so that she could store her fur coats upstairs. The step-daughter would be banned from furthering her education, and served as practically a live-in maid. It's incredibly obvious, really."

"They kept her as a maid? In the basement?" Lestrade's jaw hangs open slightly, his tone utterly disbelieving.

"Of course they did. All we have to do now is find her." Sherlock says, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Come on, John. If Cinderella's looking for a story, then we'll help her write one."

---

By the time you get back to your hotel room, your confidence has been bolstered immeasurably. You'd rather cautiously kept away from the more densely populated, camera-filled streets, and remained in more seedy, shady areas where nobody would really care too much even if they did know what you'd done.

In that time, you'd secured clothes, food, and you'd scouted out a few places that would probably be willing to employ you and not ask too many questions, though you weren't under the impression that they would pay you particularly well.

It felt so intoxicating to be completely and utterly free. You had no constraints any more. There were no Aubrey and Alora to hound you when you went shopping, and Verona was no longer around to tell you to be grateful that she even kept you around. Total, complete independence was one of the finest things you had ever encountered.

Perhaps the next few months would be rough whilst you were evading the police and establishing your new life. But ultimately, you were free. From freedom, your happily ever after would be borne.

Hastily, you put the food away - you'd bought simple things that could be stored in the mini-fridge - and pull the clothes on to hangers in the wardrobe. It doesn't feel like home, but oddly, you're glad for that.

Home had been burnt down, reduced to ashes by your own hand. In due time, you'd build a new one if you had to, and it most certainly would not resemble this hotel room.

Once you've finished packing everything away, you try to allow yourself to relax, but for some reason, you feel utterly unable to.

For some, indecipherable reason, you feel watched.

Instantly, your eyes narrow and you stalk around your hotel room, checking below your bed and in the bathroom. There's nobody hiding in either places, and you know that the wardrobe is empty, too. You're utterly alone here, and yet, you certainly do not feel that way. Rather, it feels like there are eyes at your back, scrutinising your every move.

Your next course of action is to check out the window. There's nobody there. Still, you draw the curtains closed tightly. It does little to block out the light or offer you any true sense of security. You're on edge - all of a sudden the shadows in the room feel too dark, too ominous, and it feels like the temperature has dropped several degrees.

There's a deep paranoia settling into your bones, and slowly, but surely, your heart rate is beginning to rise, to the point where your heart is rapidly thundering against your ribcage.

There has to be something you'd missed.

Most people hadn't developed the acute senses that you had. They simply weren't as perceptive, and they had no reason to be. Your distinct awareness of everything around you had been developed over years and years of maltreatment.

Just the slightest movement could tell you a thousand different things. Noises, from the screech of a heeled shoe against wooden floor to the mutterings of your step-mother, were a vital part of determining how safe you felt. Sight, too, was important. You could recognise just from the way Verona positioned her handbag if she would be in the mood to let you eat that night.

You had learnt to trust your senses. And right now, they were declaring that you had missed something - that there was something totally and completely off about this room.

Quickly, your eyes are traversing over every tiny little thing. From the doorframe, to the curtains, to the TV, to the desk -

The desk.

That's what had changed. The sugar packets and TV remote had been pushed to the outskirts of the desk to make room for something that hadn't been there before.

It's in the centre of the desk, and your jaw drops open slightly just at the sight of it. A bolt of ice rushes down your spine and suddenly you're afraid. There had been no fear when you killed three people and set their house aflame. But this, this felt like a threat.

Resting idly, almost innocently on the desk, is a heeled glass shoe.

It glitters prettily under the few rays of sunlight that escape from the curtains, but its mere presence feels insidious. You want to stumble away from it, dash out of the hotel and run for your life. But you don't. Rather, you stalk closer, creeping towards it, your eyes wide and unblinking.

The glasswork is pretty. It's delicate - carefully made, with intricate spirals running up the heel. It's relatively transparent, with a slight blue tint to it, enough to make it appear more frosted. It looks about your size, but it's far too nice to even attempt to wear. It's the kind of shoe you would have relentlessly lusted after as a child. A real life glass slipper.

And yet, neither the pretty glasswork or whether it is actually wearable are the primary thoughts on your mind.

Right next to the shoe, lying so innocuously on the desk, is a little white note. It almost resembles a business card, with a swooping golden border around the edges. If the shoe felt like a threat, then this feels even worse.

Inscribed, in shocking black ink on the bone-white card -

HELLO, CINDERELLA. WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO TO THE BALL?

Now you really do feel like crying - like yelling out and destroying everything around you, smashing the glass slipper and burning your dreams just as you'd burnt the house down. You collapse to the floor, one hand clutching at your chest, grappling onto your torso like it was a lifeline.

You had been cautious. Cameras had been avoided at all costs. You'd even made sure that there would be no up to date pictures of you available for you to be identified from. You had done everything right.

It was so, awfully unfair. All of a sudden, that tenuous, delightful freedom had been ripped out from under you and torn to ribbons. And you had no idea by whom.

There was somebody out there who knew. Somebody who knew what you had done, and worse still, knew where you were. Somebody who could very, very easily let themselves into your hotel room.

Last night, you had slept so soundly, totally unaware that you had already been compromised.

You had no idea who could possibly do this - who could want to torment you in this way. Nobody came to mind. There should have been nobody that even cared to look for you, beyond the police hunting down a criminal. Logically, there should have been no way for you to be found. All of your bases had been carefully covered.

Worst of all is that you have no way of fathoming what it even means. Is it a threat? A taunt?

You simply have no idea, and you're not inclined to even want to find out. It's entirely possible that you've burnt your way out of one cage just to be put in another. All because there's somebody out there who's smarter than you, who has somehow been able to undo every precaution you put into place.

Taking in a deep breath, you lower your head into your hands and beg yourself to just think.

This could be a threat. You have no idea who would want to threaten you, and you have no leverage against them.

Rather quickly, you come to the conclusion that for now, you will simply play along with whatever they want. It's the easiest option - if they'd found you here then they could potentially find you anywhere. This way, you can dig for as much information on them as possible.

Playing along could mean being extorted, or made into a pawn. Wretchedly, it threatened to put a stranglehold on your freedom.

But, you'd broken out of the role of the pawn before.

If they were threatening you, then you would play along, until you found the right time to burn them to ash, reduce them to cinders that could easily be swept away. You were already well on your way transitioning from pawn to queen, and you were absolutely determined not to let anything derail you.

This time, you wouldn't run away from the blaze. You would gleefully watch it consume anybody who dared stand against you.

If reaching the fabled happily ever after meant starting a few fires, then that's what you would do.

---

There's a deep sense of relief when you wake up and find that nothing's changed. The glass slipper is still resting threateningly next to the card it came with upon the desk, but you haven't received any additional gifts. Not yet, anyway. You cannot simply throw caution to the wind - now you must be more careful than ever.

Somebody has discovered exactly who you are, and they know exactly where you are. It's quite possibly the worst position for you to be in. The last thing you need is anybody else recognising you.

That morning, you creep out of your hotel room, dressed in some of the clothes you had bought the day prior. You were very careful not to choose anything too flashy or that would stick in people's minds. For all intents and purposes, you needed to become a shadow, to fade from memory and hide in plain sight.

Once again, you will be trawling the shadier areas. These are the places bathed in darkness and defined by hidden bloodshed. These people have little regard for the law-abiding. Being amongst them will probably help keep you concealed.

They won't allow the police to get anywhere near them. There will never be any security cameras. There will only be secrecy and that is where you'll thrive. It's where you will hide, until the press has blown over and your step-family's murders have been relegated to cold cases.

You stalk out of the hotel, ever wary of everybody that you interact with.

Any one of these people in the lobby could have left you the slipper and the note. They're the ones with the most opportunity. However, most of the guests here, from what you can reasonably guess, are disenfranchised or senile. It could have even been the lady at the desk, Emily, you think her name had been.

You take to the streets like a duck to water. You decide to walk along a route with less traffic, working your way through maze-like alleys rather than go near the roads. There's almost no cameras here, and occasionally you will see a metal clasp on the brick walls that perhaps, at some time had held a camera, but it had since been taken down or torn off the wall.

Unfortunately, these places are rife with unsavoury people. Realistically, you probably weren't the only person here that was on the run from the police.

Your methodology of travelling only by the shadiest routes brought you past a myriad of seedy little pubs. You'd taken a look at some of these places yesterday. They seemed like as good a place as any to start looking for a job. The people there weren't likely to ask too many questions.

Despite having probably done crimes more morally reprehensible than any of the pub patrons, there's a disparity in how you view yourself compared to how you view them. They're stationed below you - they are just another stepping stone to your future. Among them isn't where you belong.

The way you spend the day is rather boring - doing a more in depth evaluation of all the places nearby that would probably be willing to employ you, mentally cataloguing the pros and cons of each place. It's incredibly dull, but you have to remind yourself that it's necessary. Right now, you don't have much other choice.

By the time the sun is beginning to set and dusk is beginning to fall over London, you've found a few places you like the look of. They're easy to get to, and just seedy enough that they may not care about your lack of documentation. That, of course, had been destroyed in the fire, and even if it hadn't, you weren't about to use your real name.

Once it starts to get darker, you head back to your hotel room, half-starved. You're simultaneously eager to get back just to eat, and nervous that you could have been left another message.

You practically fly through the lobby, hurriedly following the signs back to room one hundred and twenty five.

You make your way down the hallway, pausing cautiously at your door.

There, hung on the door handle is one of the hotel's do not disturb signs. You hadn't been the one to place it there.

Immediately, you're put on edge. The tiny, rectangular blue and green key card feels rather heavy in your hand. Your fingers twitch, and your eyes narrow. Once again, something is very, very off.

You press your ear to the door. There's nothing - no noise that you can discern. Cautiously, you swipe the card, and you tug the door handle down, but you don't push it all the way open. Not yet. You wait another moment before doing so, your eyes immediately flying to check the bathroom before you even truly step inside.

The room looks deserted, overcast by shadows. There's a deep anticipation stirring within you as you step into the hotel room and let the door close behind you.

It's rather dark - the shadows all move in the dying sunlight, and there's too many places for someone to hide.

"Hello, Cinderella." A voice calls out from the darkness, crooning and smooth.

In a second, your hand has slammed down on the lightswitch. The lights flicker for a moment, but they enable you to see him.

There's a man lounging in the chair to the desk, looking directly at you. His legs are outstretched in front of him, and he's passing the glass slipper between his hands.

You'd never seen him before. He's older than you, perhaps in his early thirties, with slicked back dark hair, an expensive-looking grey suit, and eyes that stare straight into your soul.

"Did you like my gift?" He asks, sounding vaguely amused. His dark, all-consuming, black eyes dart briefly down to the glass shoe in his hands. He strokes a fingertip along the glasswork intimately.

"Who are you?" The question tumbles from your mouth before you can even think to stop it.

He rolls his eyes. "I believe that I asked you a question first. You're welcome to call me Moriarty. But you, Cinderella, have been a very naughty girl."

This Moriarty man is rather changeable, you think. His annoyance had quickly faded to something that sounded horrendously like glee. You're left floundering for a response - there's nothing clever for you to say.

"Have I?" You find yourself saying, rather absently, like you were making an off-hand remark about the weather or something equally insignificant. It feels meaningless to refute him. You know exactly what he's referring to.

"Oh come on," Moriarty says. His voice is almost playful - and it's now that you place his accent. Irish. "You know you have. Killing your wicked step-mother and ugly step-sisters? Most people would call that terrible. Psssh, I'm not so boring." He waves it off, dismissing what you had done gut-wrenchingly easy.

You flinch backwards, your back colliding with the door. "Oh?" You manage to choke out.

"No, no. I'd call that impressive," He says in a sing-song voice. He seems so cheery, and he's practically grinning at you. "You see, most people don't quite gather the guts to kill their own families. And when it's a woman - well, they tend to go for poison. Bit of a cop out, don't you think? But no, not you. That would be too boring. Go on, Cinderella, tell me how it felt."

"Am I...being blackmailed?" You don't think you've ever felt so confused and worried at the same time. This man - the man who had figured it all out and found you seems to be dually comical and threatening. You can't really discern what is an appropriate reaction.

"Only if you'd like to be." He replies with an innocent shrug of his shoulders. "Just tell me something, will you?"

#jim moriarty #jim moriarty x reader

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thecowprint · 3 years

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #408

“tied to the rat race / a big bird in a small cage”

Who, whether a person or company, emails you the most? I really don't check my email enough to even know. If you were given an assignment to draw anything besides stick figures or just doodles, what would you draw? A meerkat of course, ha ha. Do you play the games on MySpace/Facebook? I never did. Well no, I did play "Dragons of Atlantis" when Facebook bought it or whatever, but now that it's a mobile game, I don't play anything on there. When was the last time you were sunburnt? Ha, actually now. It's from riding an hour to and an hour back from the TMS office every weekday; the sun coming in through the window got my arm. Who all do you live with? My mom and my two pets. Has a guy ever let you wear his jacket? Yeah. It was so comforting when Jason gave me his leather jacket to wear if I was cold; it was pretty big on me at that time and just really cozy. Thanks survey, now I feel like crying. :^) How many friends do you have of the opposite sex? Like, one. Do you have bird feeders hanging up outside? What about any hanging plants? No. Does your house have sliding glass doors? No. Was the last food item you ate part of a meal or a snack? A snack. What color is your hair brush? I don't use a brush, but a white comb. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy? I think I prefer sunny for the sake of helping keep my depression at bay, but sometimes I really do enjoy some nice steady rainfall at the window. Who’s the last person that you hugged, not family? I have no idea. What will your next piercing be? Probably getting my nostril re-pierced. How many people have you kissed, that you can HONESTLY say you loved? Two. Can you recall the last time you liked someone a lot? uhhhhhhhhhh now What’s scarier: spiders or worms? Worms gross me out, but a spider is more likely to actually scare me, but at the same time fascinate me. Do you play poker for real money? No. If you were pregnant, how long would you wait to tell the dad? I'd tell him immediately. Would you ever date out of your own race? I have in the past, and I would again. Do you still watch movies intended for children? Yeah. Hell, more than half the time they're better than "grown up" movies. What’s your favorite movie trilogy? Uhhhh does TLK count? ha ha What would you like to take lessons in? German. Whose Facebook password do you have? Just my own. Have you ever been suspended or expelled from school? No. Have you ever crawled through a window? Yes. Are you too forgiving? Yuuuup. Ever have a sleepover with the opposite sex? Well, we were dating. Have you ever gotten someone suspended? No. Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? No. Would you live with someone without marrying them? Yes; I believe you really probably should before getting married so you see if you "fit" as far as household habits and such go. Have you ever wanted to strip naked in front of someone? Yeah no. I'd feel way too awkward. What are you listening to? A John Wolfe video. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? My mom. Did anyone watch you the last time you kissed someone? I mean possibly, it was a public place, and some people are definitely caught off-guard by seeing two girls kiss. Do either of your parents have any tattoos or piercings? No. Mom wants a tattoo, though, dedicated to all of us kids and her grandkids. Are you desperate for anyone’s approval, in particular? -_- Would you ever stalk a celebrity? Um, no???? You don't stalk ANYBODY. It's a violation of space, privacy, basic respect... Do you have any National Geographic magazines lying around? No. Have you ever been mistaken for the opposite gender? No. Do you use liquid foundation, mousse, or just powder? None. Have you ever picked out a song to listen to on a juke box? Maybe? I don't remember. Have you ever eaten 3 meals from 3 different fast food places in one day? Oh god, I hope not. I don't remember ever having done that. Have you ever ridden in a limo? No. I always wanted to as a kid. Have you ever tried to put a huge puzzle together? Yeah, I have. I used to like to do that with my mom especially. Ever wake up early on Saturdays to go garage sale shopping? Yes, actually. My family used to love to do that. Do you keep magazines by your toilet? No. Ya better just bring your phone. What did you last take a picture of with your camera? On my actual camera, a hydrangea bush. On the camera on my phone, I believe my cat. Are you proud of who you are? Not... really. If you were a waiter/waitress, would you make good tips? Nope. I'm too awkward and I would NEVER write the orders down quickly enough. I write so slow. What are the best kind of Girl Scout cookies? The chocolate and peanut butter ones. If you hit an animal while driving, would you stop to see if it was okay? Well I doubt it's okay, but I would absolutely stop to move it away from the road and sob my eyes out. I'd probably try to find some flowers to rest on it. What's your favorite kind of pasta? Spaghetti. Have you ever played computer solitaire for hours on end? I don't even know how to play solitaire. What's the dumbest thing you've heard of that supposedly causes cancer? Who the hell knows, everything does apparently. If you saw wet cement, would you place your handprint in it? No. Can you honestly tell the difference between DiGiorno and delivery pizza? Absolutely. Do you own a lava lamp? No, but I would looove one. What charity or cause would you donate $1,000 to if possible? Off the top of my head, the Trevor Project. I'd probably research before actually donating, though. What would you say is your greatest strength? I guess that I care a lot about people. What's one food that you find too disgusting to eat? Things like clams, es cargot, sashimi... just ew. What's something that will never bore you? Uhhhh good question. Pizza Hut or Domino's? Domino's, by a long shot. What's something that always, no matter what, makes you laugh? Stupid Vines, lol. Have you ever been in a canoe? No. How many vehicles does your family own? Just one, my mom's. Are you generally afraid of taking risks? Yes. Have you ever caught/swatted a fly in/with your hand? Ew, no. Would you ever dye your hair bubblegum pink? Yeah. What was the last thing to happen that you really weren't expecting? The woman whose wedding I shot TWO YEARS ago finally reaching out to me about buying some pictures. What does it mean when you start eating less? What does it mean when you start eating more? If I'm eating less, odds are I'm extremely serious about losing weight. If I'm eating more than usual, high odds are I'm depressed or bored. Or I'm on my period. What’s the strangest named pet you’ve ever had? Harry Potter, ha ha. He was a guinea pig. What are some defense mechanisms you find yourself using when in an argument with someone? I'm very likely to just metaphorically flee from it because I fear confrontation so much. Do you know if there is anyone who was once important to you that you will never talk to again, even though you could? If I have any say in it, I'm never talking to Colleen again. List the initials of every person you have ever kissed, from first kiss to most recent kiss. (Put “?”s in the place of initials you don’t know.) I'm not listing their last initial, but anyway: J, T, G, S. Does your face break out right before your period? Not "break out," no. I'll just get a pimple or two. What did you dream about last night? All I remember was that it focused on Jason and his late mother. I miss her so much. I hope so much that whatever exists beyond death, she found the peace she was so worthy of. Do you think the United States health care system needs reform? FUCK yes I do. Our health care system is a disgusting fucking nightmare. Who was the last person you cried over? Jason. My PTSD has been doing quite well, but I had an emotional episode recently nonetheless. Do you prefer ceiling fans or fans that stand up on the floor and you plug in? I use both, but I think my preference is ceiling ones. What would you do if your son was at home, crying all alone on the bedroom floor because he’s hungry, and the only way to feed him was to sleep with a man for a little bit of money? Hypothetically, if I had a child, if I'm totally honest, I probably would. I would hate it, but I'm not letting my child starve to death if I can do something about it. Why do you think evolution is true/false? Because there is substantial evidence for it and imo is the most logical theory we've thought up. Some things about it seem kinda far-fetched, but I still have faith in it. I trust scientists and the evolution we see firsthand, such as caterpillars to cocoons, tadpoles to frogs, etc. Who came through for you at a time when you really, really needed it? Colleen. She let me live with her when I was technically homeless. What turned out better than you thought? Good question. What object did you used to, or do you still, keep hidden? My drawings. I've flipped my shit when Mom's found them in the past, even though she went on and on about how "amazing" they were. I don't draw anything "bad" at all, but still, I don't like people seeing my creativity. Who can’t you figure out? My damn self. What are you hoping for? The most recent thing would be hoping Shonda buys a lot, if not all, the wedding photos I took. I desperately want to use the money along with what I have left from Christmas to buy Venus' terrarium and proper supplies all by myself. What’s the best physical object that you kept from a previous relationship? Idk, there's a few things. What is the most socially unacceptable thing that you have no problem with? Maybe women not shaving. Like I couldn't care less. What have you done that you surprised yourself by doing? *shrug* What used to be a secret about you? Hm. Anything that used to be a secret probably still is one. What is the most stalky thing you’ve ever done? Just Facebook digging, and that's not something I've done a lot off. What did you wind up liking that you didn’t want anything to do with at first? The only thing that comes to mind at the moment is something sexual, so let's not go into that. Who do you owe your life that you can never pay back? Mom and Jason have both saved me from what would've been suicide attempts.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''monkey tree'' by mother mother

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sahbibabe · 4 years

Text

An Experiment Returned

Soulmate AU

Sephiroth/Fem! Reader

You get your exams done. It does not end well.

YOU SAT ON THE COLD steel table with enough adrenaline in your veins to kill a horse. No amount of pep talk could stop your fight or fight response the moment you had entered the laboratory─no matter that the nurse on standby had told you it was an entirely separate wing from Hojo's as she looked down at your file. A file that was suspiciously thicker than the one Reno had given you with all of your normal medical history in it, experimentation redacted.

They had taken your purse, with it your materia, your clothes, your socks, your shoes, your undergarments, and even your earrings, claiming any of it could be used as a weapon. You were keen to find out if ankle socks could be used as weapons, but the nurse had shoved a paper gown at you and escorted you to a room with your chart hooked on it.

In the middle of the room was the exam table you sat on, but it was outfitted with various different equipment that allowed it to be both a gynecology chair and a restraint system. You didn't like that at all, toying with the sleeves of your gown, and trying your best not to shake from the cold. It was well below sixty degrees and without your warm clothes, you would turn into an icicle before your exam was even over.

When you first sat down, you tried to avoid looking at the plastic wrapped equipment laid out on the table. Not even the sheer blue dye in that plastic could stop you from spotting a scalpel and a drill, but that wasn't even the worst part. You saw pliers, small metal hammers, picks for what looked to be made for teeth, and enough gauze to make a giant stuffed chocobo.

It didn't help that the entire room smelled like blood. The antiseptic dulled the odor only faintly, but you could still make it out, an iron tinged undertone beneath bleach and cleanser. There were little stains on the ceiling that were dark and looked like they hadn't been scrubbed in a long while.

A computer sat in a corner, and beside it, a steaming hot cup of coffee that you assumed belonged to the doctor. It made your stomach cramp with hunger, but hospital coffee was never good and you had a feeling you would be throwing your guts up if you even tried a sip.

Before you could find anything else to analyze further and scare yourself even more, the door creaked open on steel hinges. It was a loud, screeching sound that made you want to curl in on yourself instinctively, because it sounded just like the door to your cell in Hojo's facility.

"Good evening, Miss [Surname]." You swallowed a bit of bile at the sound of the feminine voice. You had, for a split second, been expecting Hojo─if Reno hadn't been thoughtful enough of you to pull some strings, you would be staring at him right now. Instead, you found a short, quaint woman greeting you, with a cute face and giant glasses. "How are you? You're very pale."

"I don't have a good experience with… doctors," you replied sourly, stomach churning wildly. "Can we get this over with? Fast?"

"Of course. Reno told me about your issues." Issues? Not PTSD? Issues? Your eyebrows furrowed. "You were very nervous while my assistant took your vitals. One hundred and forty over one hundred?"

"I'm still nervous."

"I can see that." She flipped over to a paper on the second page and hummed. "You have a hemoglobin test up first. It's just a finger prick, nothing serious. We'll take a look at that and go from there."

You knew more serious things were coming to you. You eyed the scalpel the entire time she pricked your finger with a needle and inserted a strip into the machine.

"Alright. Can you stand up for me? I need to check your spine and movement while we wait for that to read."

You did what she asked: bending over with your gown untied, walked in a straight line, bent your knees and elbows, did a few squats to test your hips, and rotated your arm sockets to make sure nothing caught up in them. She nodded every time she was pleased and checked off some list she had on her clipboard, writing notes in the margins.

"How old are you, Miss [Surname]?"

"Twenty-three." You got back up on the table. "Isn't it all in my file?"

"Yes, but I confirm with the patient to make sure the office didn't make any mistakes." Before she could ask anymore questions, the machine beeped loudly, signaling the test was done. She peered over at the numbers. You watched her eyes go wide as saucers. "Your hemoglobin count is four point six. You shouldn't even be walking right now. Do you feel dizzy? Tired? Faint? Achy?"

"No." You jerked backwards when she approached you hastily, reaching for your eyes to check them. "Wait a minute!"

"Your chart says you're blind, but you're clearly not," she hummed, reaching again and peeling back your eyelid, shining a flashlight in your eye. "Hmm. Your pupils are very responsive… Blink for me." You did. "Interesting. I wonder how Hojo didn't take note of this."

Anger welled up inside you. Hearing his name set you off. You shoved her back with a firm foot in her stomach, kicking with enough force to make her slam into the counter. "Back. Off!"

"Heightened anger, too," she went on, as if you hadn't spoken, her voice winded. She scribbled something into her file again. "Since you can see, I assume you must have a SOLDIER for a soulmate?"

You scowled. "Yes. I guess. That's what everyone says, anyways; I wasn't able to see when I met them."

"I see." She clicked her pen closed and held up her stethoscope. "Let me listen to your heart. Please."

She did, and took more blood samples, not even hesitant in taking any of it despite your hemoglobin levels. She pressed onto your sternum, your stomach, then your abdomen, her eyebrows furrowing when she felt around your uterus. You, however, went so numb with pain when she reached your abdomen that you couldn't even speak.

"Interesting… Your uterus feels perhaps larger than it should be. I'll need to get samples from you for testing; you may have cancer or an infection." She felt even lower, pressing right on your pelvic bone. "And this feels a bit wide. You haven't bore children before, have you?"

You recovered enough of your voice to speak, the pain making it crack. "No."

"Hmm." She reached for her clipboard and wrote something down. "This calls for more testing. Let's get your feet in the stirrups, please. I'm curious to see what's going on inside. I'll be swabbing for cells and inserting a small camera to make sure you aren't developing inflammation in your ovaries."

You sat through the swabs, somewhat uncomfortable, feeling bile climb up your throat at the pressure. Then, she removed them, popped them into a vial, and rolled over her laptop and plugged in a sterile camera line.

She positioned it so you were allowed to see as well, even though you didn't want to, and carefully inserted the camera. "Tell me if you feel any pain."

The first couple of inches were normal and pink. You could make out a little bit where she was at, but you didn't know enough to know what was okay or unusual, until she reached somewhere in the middle where it began turning colors. It went from pink to such a deep purple color that it was almost black; if it weren't for the light attached, you wouldn't have been able to tell it at all. You felt sick to your stomach and pilfered for the garbage can beside the table, throwing up in it the moment you got your mouth over it.

She still kept going, but her face was pale. "It seems Hojo got what he wanted, after all these years."

That made you even sicker. She pulled out the camera while you continued to throw up, covering you up and lowering the stirrups. She picked up her board, wrote something down, and left the room as if she had never been there in the first place.

You raised your head from the garbage can with a tiny sob, looking up at the frozen picture on the screen. She had went even deeper, to your ovaries themselves, and the color had changed once again, dark purple streamlined with bright green. Mako.

"Oh, gods," you choked, retching back into the garbage. You heaved, but had nothing left to give. "No…"

The door opened once again. You didn't look up, thinking the doctor had come back to check on you, stomach clenching painfully.

"When I heard my failed experiment was here, I just had to come see for myself." Your heart dropped dead into your stomach. You looked up, slowly, spit dripping from your mouth. The door shut and locked. "Look at you. All grown up and mature. Perhaps that's what she was waiting on: for you to mature. An oversight, of course, but I can make amends."

Your mind went terrifyingly blank at the black goggles staring at you. The strong scent of undiluted bleach. The odor of death and infection.

Hojo.

"Imagine my surprise when I saw your chart logged into the database!" He cackled, approaching you with slow, measured steps. "It was almost too good to be true. And here you are, back where you started, a gift to me from Rufus Shinra. How lucky am I?"

"I-I'm not your fucking gift," you stuttered, shuffling backwards the closer he got. Your fingers hit the edges of the table. Clenched around a dirty scalpel. "Leave me alone. I'm a failure. You don't want anything to do with me."

"Oh, but your file says otherwise." His tone was dark and sinister as he walked the edge of the table. "I succeeded, just not in the area I had wanted at the time. I had originally wanted to have your eyes for her to see through; I got a perfect incubator instead. Isn't it wonderful? You can bear her children now!"

"No," you gasped, mouth trembling. Your fist tighened against the scalpel, fingers breaking out in a cold sweat. "No, I won't. Fuck you. Fuck Jenova!"

You rammed the scalpel forward. It sunk home in his shoulder, scraped against bone; you pushed it deeper, drawing on your fear and adrenaline. When he hit the floor screaming, writhing in pain, you leapt off of the table and snatched the unredacted files off of the counter.

The pain that shot up your stomach was nearly unbearable, as if simply being aware of it incited pain. You staggered to the door and unlocked it, moving clumsily down the hall with a hand pressed to the wall. If you had any food in your body, you would have vomited again when you reached the lobby. Instead, sitting in one of the chairs and getting his blood pressure read, was a godsend: Rude.

"Rude," you wheezed, collapsing to your knees when they wouldn't support your weight. The shock continued to get to you, your vision blacking out─or was that the routine? You didn't know. "Rude…"

"[Name]?" He ripped the bloodpressure cuff off and gently moved the nurse to the side. He caught you around the shoulders just before you faceplanted into the floor, eyes wide behind his glasses as you smothered your panicked sobs into his sleeve. "What's going on here?"

"Hojo," you breathed.

Then your vision went black. After that, so did your conciousness.

#final fantasy #final fantasy 7 remake #sephiroth x reader #soulmate au #soulmate #final fantasy vii remake

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thatweeboverthereisthirsty · 4 years

Note

May I request sfw and nsfw relationship headcanons about gray with fem s/o? Thank you

I loved these with all my heart and will always treasure my beautiful darling Gray!!!!! I hope you enjoy and yes I am back in business even if I am a bit slow on the updates.

SFW:

Ahh ever the dreamy Gray Fullbuster

He’s so handsome and perfect any girl would want to be with him

And his stripping habit is a major plus ;)

The only thing that really frustrates you is that he can’t cook for the life of him

His specialty is ice not fire

When it comes to an oven or a stove he’s at a loss for what to do

But he’s fairly good at making breakfast

(If breakfast counts as a bowl of cereal without a spoon)

He usually forgets to do the dishes when you don’t tell him so he’ll just freeze the milk and chomp away at his milk and cereal using his hands

Honestly the first time you walked in on him doing that you were very confused

That is until you remembered that he was raised by the same wizard that taught him to strip in public

Needless to say when you moved in there were some major lifestyle changes

To this day Gray won’t eat packaged pizza (you found him eating it frozen and stuff went down)

Another quirky thing about eating is that you make him put ice cubes in your glass every time you get water. If he’s not around or too tired you simply won’t have ice

There’s nothing wrong with other ice it’s just that his tastes better

He finds it equally adorable and creepy when you crunch on the leftover ice in your glass

He loves to sneak up behind you and tickle you

He loves your laugh and will risk getting hit in the face just to hear it

Sometimes he has you sit on his lap

He loves to have you close so he’ll bury his face in your neck and just breathe

Guildmates smirk or roll their eyes but he never sees it (cause he’s too focused on you ;)

Once you spilled a hot drink on yourself and in a panic he froze it causing your shirt to crack and shatter

Stripping record shattered as he covered you with his clothes

It left everyone in hysterical laughter

Expect ice roses all the time

He thinks regular roses last too long cause he wants to give you a new rose every ten minutes

Ice melts so it was a perfect substitute

Now a permanent flower pot sits at the end of the bar for you to place your roses

Sometimes to make sure he doesn’t bother you or when you are about to return from a job he’ll fill the pot with ice flowers for you to find

Sometimes he experiments with putting dyes in the water so his ice roses will be different colors

That’s not the only thing he’ll create for you

If it’s hot outside and you want to cool off he will make you ice jewelry or an ice crown

You're his ice princess

When you two are at home together you have small codes for certain things

If Gray wants a hug he sits cross-legged on the bed

If you need some ice you pull out a glass and simply set it on the counter

Friday night is movie night

You’ll cuddle up in his lap and he’ll make sure you’re wrapped in tons of blankets before turning on whatever film you guys decided to watch

You guys usually only get about halfway through

From there the night could end in two ways

1 passionate making out and ahem…. You know what

Or 2 someone falling asleep and having to be carried into bed

Either way, Fridays are always your favorite

NSFW:

Ok so having sex with Gray Fullbuster is never boring

Just like Natsu, he loves to use his powers for temperature play

If it’s hot out than damn are you gonna be sucking his cock like a popsicle

Bobbing up and down is nice and all but he really likes it when you lick his cock repeatedly

He uses his powers to make ice dildos and ice handcuffs among other things

Gray likes to be in total control

He’ll pin you down and twist you into any position he wants

He knows you’ll be fine but that just eggs him on further

He’s an experimentalist

Gray wants to try every type of position and or method

Against the wall: Check

On the kitchen table: Check

Suspended: Check

Frozen in place: Check

In public: Check

Showers, baths, skinny dipping, etc: Check

Quickies in closets at the guild: Check

During a mission when everyone else can take the bad guys and he just drags you away into the forest and strips you: Check

Like the perfect girlfriend you are, you always go along and try something at least once

Some things work out, some don’t

But it’s ok cause he’ll understand

Gray loves your breasts

They could be any size and it wouldn’t matter to him

He wants to use them as pillows after you guys have sex every time

During the fun though he often handles them a lot

Obviously using his magic to spread frost over them and then lick it away

He loves seeing you squirm at the temperature

He also loves when the frost melts because water droplets roll off your breasts in all directions and it reminds him that someday he could make you pregnant

The idea of filling you and then watching as a child grew inside you really gets to him

Maker magic could never compare to the creative power of a man's semen

(sorry I just had to put that there lmao)

Another thing he loves about putting frost on your skin is that when it melts the frost leaves your skin pink and he finds it adorable

Gray isn’t really into PDA, neither is he into leaving marks all over you

He doesn’t believe in marking that gorgeous skin of yours

But what he will do is let you mark him

It’s slightly embarrassing but he wants you to feel powerful and equal in the relationship and this is how he believes it should happen

It also kinda turns him on when he looks at himself in the mirror and sees nail scratches and love bites from your last lovemaking session

Gray loves dirty talk

He loves to whisper naughty things in your ear when you guys are in public

He loves how it makes you squirm and get annoyed with him

Something else he does is whisper dirty things in your ear while you sleep

If he does this long enough you start to dream about the stuff and it really turns him on

The way you moan his name and rub against the sheets while you dream is really quite a sight

He waits until you wake up to touch you though

He believes that an experience like that should be remembered by both parties and he is a massive consent guy

Even if you told him that you wanted him to touch you in your sleep he wouldn’t do it just cause there would be no way of verifying just in case

He thinks you are beautiful and every time you step into the room he just wants to show you how much he loves you

#fairy tail #fairy tail headcanon #fairytail #gray #gray fullbuster #gray fairy tail #gray headcannon #gray fullbuster headcannon #gray x reader #grayxyou

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