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#i know he would've given them haircuts

luveline · 10 months

Text

steve zombie au —you and steve celebrate his birthday with a frank discussion and some new fun. [5k]

fem!reader, afab!reader, fluff, MDNI smut (hand job, implied oral), cw for mentioned circumstances of the apocalypse; food insecurity, danger, zombies, nightmares, injury

April 29th starts exceedingly warm. Summer is fast approaching, and it's being felt all over The College community. You can forget zombies — a world without air conditioning is much scarier.

You're kidding, obviously. Geeks are scary. Both for what they are, slimy decomposing husks that want more than anything to chew on you like a dog toy, and what they could be, the end of your life. There have been times where you wished for something of the same calibre, but these days you have someone you want to hold onto.

And that someone is turning twenty three. He's still sleeping, the limp hair in his eyes freshly shorn. He doesn't know that you know it's his birthday today, but you do, so you'd traded with Mel the used-to-be hairdresser to get you both haircuts. You would've traded just for him —her services aren't cheap— if you thought he'd ever let you, or ever get one without you.

It's exactly that reason that you'd wanted him to have a haircut in the first place, and why you want him to have a good birthday. He's so loving, and sweet, and good, he deserves to feel special. He needs to know how much you appreciate him.

You're hoping you've prepared enough to do that.

You brush the sweat damp hair out of Steve's eyes as he begins to stir. You've been up for hours, now, and it's a credit to how much you like him that you would wake up early on a day you could've slept in, sweaty but safe in the circle of his arm. You've washed up for the morning so he doesn't have to wake to your oily face, and you press a spearmint-fresh kiss to his cheek as his eyelashes strain.

"Hey," he says, rough with sleep.

You love his voice in the mornings. "Hey, handsome. Good morning."

You lay your cheek against his pillow, watching as he opens his eyes. Your hand roves over his naked torso selfishly, feeling the soft indentations of muscle. He's put on weight since you got here. It's amazing.

"It's fucking–" He stretches out beside you, his sentence scythed in two by a low groan. "S'fucking so hot. I just woke up and it's so hot."

"I think it's finally summer."

"I don't know," he argues lightly, "it shouldn't be this hot. Not for another two months, Jesus."

He traces your face with his eyes as he talks, and as his sentence finishes he pauses his searching. He brings a hand up between your two bodies and rubs his thumb against the highest point of your cheek. "I guess it's almost May."

"It's April 29th," you say softly.

His lashes come together slowly, a subtle suspicious squint souring his otherwise serene expression. "Robin told you?"

"Yes, she did. Happy birthday, baby."

He looks at you a little longer. You like to be looked at by Steve because you know he's thinking nice things as he does, but for those long, stretched seconds you worry you've given him a reason to wrinkle his nose. Maybe it's cringy to be romantic about it. After all, he'd kept his birthday to himself the entire time you'd known him.

"Thank you."

He tugs you in for a hug, so tight you swear you can feel his heartbeat against your own.

"You're welcome," you say, words smothered under his cheek.

He clings to you. You can't count how many hugs you've shared after so long together. Even before Steve told you he loved you on the floor of this very room, before he asked if you were together in a cold car shivering for your lives in the middle of an abandoned highway, he was hugging you when you needed them, or when he needed you.

You feel your eyes warm thinking about it, until the heat becomes tears, and the tears roll down over the bridge of your nose. You push your head as far as you can over Steve's shoulder, your hands hugging behind his head to keep him with you if he tries to move. You're selfish, and you don't deserve him but you have him. It counts for something.

"I love you," you say, tears making your voice all wobbly. Cicadas call from the open window, and the earth seems deathly still. Steve is quiet for a while and you worry you've put him off crying on his special day, but then his arm shifts against your back and his embrace tightens again.

"I can't believe it took me," —he presses his forehead to yours— "twenty three years to find you."

"You found me ages ago," you remind him, fighting for your life because isn't that the most romantic thing, isn't he the sweetest guy?

"Are you crying?" he asks, frowning.

"Not really. I just love you."

He holds your face in his palm and gives you a gentle shake. "I love you. But you know that. It's embarrassing how much you know that."

"Embarrassing how much you love me?" you ask, poking for extra compliments. Again, you're selfish.

Again, it counts for something.

Steve pushes your shoulders back into the bed and follows with his weight on top of you, his chest pressed to your chest and an elbow by your arm so his face doesn't smash into yours. You're a little daunted —Steve doesn't come on to you so suddenly, but it's his birthday, and you just asked him how much he loves you. Maybe he's excited.

His laugh fans over your face.

"Sorry," he murmurs, "I saw the look on your face." He turns his head to kiss your cheek. "I love you so much. That part isn't embarrassing, at all, I just mean I would've had the shit kicked out of me in high school for being whipped."

"You're whipped?" you ask lightly, trying to maintain casualness as his lips dip lower. His kisses show how he's still far from being properly awake, mouthing at the column of your throat one slovenly inch at a time.

"I'm worse than that," he says, his lips parting over your pulse.

His teeth scratch.

"Steve–" You laugh as he sucks your skin between his teeth, not his worst hickey but the start of a sore one if you let him finish. "Baby."

He pulls away, his words scorching against you, "You sound flustered."

"I am! You're biting me."

"I'm not not biting you," he agrees, kissing his hickey. It won't last, he hadn't worked at it for very long, but it turned you to jelly under his big hands. "Sorry, I like when you do that."

"Do what?"

"You relax," he says with a smile.

"I relax with you."

It's true and untrue. It takes you time to decompress, for months you hadn't felt safe, and then things had happened to rob you of that feeling again, but Steve's persistence and insistence that nothing is going to happen is one you believe. You crawl into bed with him and sometimes it takes an hour, but you relax. You sleep well with him.

"I know," he says, pulling up to meet your eyes again, "but when I kiss you like that you go somewhere else. I'm not saying it to be cheesy, although it's definitely cheesy and I'm a romantic weapon." He smiles at your smiling. "I'm trying to describe it to you but I got a C in English and I never went to college."

You laugh again. He would've been hard pushed to go, considering the circumstances.

"We're in college now," you say.

The community that you live in has been nicknamed The College. It was a smaller college campus once upon a time, and now it homes a couple hundred people of all ages trying to make a life.

"Let me brush my teeth and then I'm gonna kiss you stupid," Steve says, climbing off of you.

There isn't an ensuite in your room but there is a small sink, and he stands there in his boxers and short-sleeved t-shirt bent over the basin. He puts paste on his toothbrush and tries to talk to you around brushing, his hair rumpled and sticking out at the back, his boxers lower on one hip.

You're trying to talk back to him, but you've noticed something you hadn't meant to.

Steve has a bulge.

Steve usually has a bulge, you're not stupid, you know your boyfriend is well-endowed. It would be impossible not to notice, you've woken countless times to something warm pressed against your thigh, but you honestly hadn't cared. You and Steve haven't had sex, and that doesn't bother either of you, you know it with surety. Your relationship has always weighed heavily on other things. But you have to wonder if he wants it. You know you do, in moments like this where he's had you pressed down into a box and nipped at your neck, suggesting the salacious to the shell of your ear.

He swills out his mouth and washes his face as boys do, rough and quick, water dripping down his neck and soaking the hairs surrounding his face.

You have your heart in your throat as he slides back into bed.

"You have your shift soon?" he asks, hiking up on his pillow and pulling you toward his arms.

"I swapped with Shirley to have today off, it's your birthday."

"Ah, but when I gave you that necklace for your birthday there was no need."

"It's different."

Steve kisses the top of your head, sounding fondly defeated as he says, "It's not different."

You turn in his hold, head by his elbow as you look up at him with a question you don't wanna ask in your eyes. He stares down at you.

You shift your leg against him, and you can't miss the slight twitch of his mouth. Like he enjoyed the feeling.

"Stevie," you murmur. "I have something I want to talk about, but I think I'll probably die of shame before I can say it out loud."

"Is it your period? I already told you it shouldn't bother you, honey, it's natural–"

"Progressive," you say with a laugh, "but no, I know you're not a big baby about it." The only thing that bothers Steve about it is that you're in pain when it happens.

"I don't know what else would embarrass you like that," he says.

"We don't have to talk about it. It's your birthday, I want to celebrate," you say, regretting your honesty.

“It’s my birthday and I wanna talk about it,” he says. “Hit me with it. Tell me tell me tell me tell me–”

"No," you mumble, knowing you'll have to tell him now.

"Please?" he asks.

His tone slows everything down. Your mixed emotions, your apprehension and nerves, your excitement over his birthday, they slip away into the palm of his hand where it strokes under your breast. He takes it all.

You look up into his face and try to look serious.

"How come we don't have sex?"

Steve is noticeably thrown for a loop. His hand lightens its hold.

"Do you want the short answer?" he asks slowly. "Or the long one?"

"Why are there two answers?"

Steve is quiet for a second. You sit up some, not entirely but enough to feel as though he's hugging you rather than acting as a place for you to rest your head. He helps you without asking, hand like a brand considering the topic of conversation.

"I just–" A muscle in his jaw moves as you talk. "I know sometimes I can– that you want to. I mean, that your, um–"

"That I'm obviously excited," he says.

You both cringe, and then you both laugh quietly.

"Yeah. And you've never tried to do anything. I just wondered if maybe you don't want to, ever, or if you're waiting for me. If you are waiting for me…"

"You're ready," Steve says.

"Yeah."

"I kind of knew that already, babe." Steve's fingers curl in toward your rib, knuckles resting against you, an arm behind your back. His face dips down to yours, and he kisses your cheek fondly and almost too softly, you barely feel it. "Not that you're obvious, but, you know, we've been together for a long time. I'd be an idiot if I couldn't read you."

"So why haven't you asked me?"

"Why haven't you asked me, 'til today?" He sounds immeasurably happy, now, his tone golden and silky smooth as pure honey, murmuring. "Being with you has never really been about that. I mean, we never could've on the road, how could you relax there?"

"Maybe it would've relaxed me."

"Maybe, but I kind of assumed it wouldn't. And I… I didn't want you to think you didn't have a choice, either, like I was looking after you so you had to do stuff you didn't want to do."

"I wouldn't have thought that."

"Good, then I was less of a dick than I thought." He pauses, breathes in the skin of your cheek as though it smells like something other than hand-soap turned face wash. "There were times when I really wanted to. But I guess most of the time I wasn't thinking about it, and then we got here and," —he smiles against your cheek— "I didn't want you to think I was saying I loved you and that having sex would make a difference." He turns bashful. "It sounds stupid now I'm actually telling you."

"It doesn't," you say, immediate and soft with awe. "It doesn't."

"Then you weren't safe, and you were having nightmares all the time, but now you're doing better and lately I've been thinking the same thing. Why aren't we?"

You turn your face to his. "Well? Do you have an answer?"

His lips pout up and his eyes squint a little as he nods, a melodramatic defeat. "The short answer. I can't find a box of fucking condoms."

You're speechless.

You cough.

"...You've been looking?" you ask.

"Sometimes. I looked in the mall pharmacy but they only had finger condoms. What am I gonna do with one of those?" He laughs at his own joke.

You're thankful it isn't awkward. Thank whoever for your stupid beautiful boyfriend who cares about you more than anything. Too chivalrous to make a move but horny enough to look for condoms when his life is in danger.

You settle your arms heavily over his shoulders and look him in the eye. "I really don't think that would work for you, Stevie."

"You're flirting."

"Is it working?"

He touches the tip of his nose to yours. "It always works, but I really can't find any rubbers, I didn't want to ask you without being able to deliver. We're stuck."

"I mean, maybe we could just… not use one?" you ask, genuinely wanting to hear his opinion.

The side of Steve's nose touches yours, his breath warm on your cheek. "I thought about it. About asking you, but I just need you to be safe." He pulls back. "You couldn't have a baby."

"I don't know. I don't think I could now, but we'd make it work."

"Do you want one?" he asks.

You think about the obvious. It's too fucking dangerous. Pregnancy before the apocalypse was dangerous. Pregnancy now is so much worse. It could kill you, and if it didn't labour could, and if it didn't and you did have a baby, that baby would live this life. You're too young to make that decision, you think. And if none of it mattered and you and Steve were a couple in a regular world, would you want one then? So soon?

"No," you say. It feels good to say, because Steve will support every decision you make and you know it.

"No. I don't want you to have one either." He licks his lips. "Maybe someday?"

You smile at his hope. It cracks a yawning gap down your chest to the pit of your stomach.

"Maybe someday," you say.

He kisses you. Chaste but somehow sharp, pressing at the same time. Not trying to initiate anything he can't finish, but now that it's on the table the implied what-if feels heavy between you.

You hug him as the kiss breaks, your lips by his ear. "You could pull out?" you whisper. You love him and he's amazing but it's still a mortifying question.

"I don't think that always works. Is it worth it?" he asks.

Not really. Not if you aren't prepared to make big choices.

His arms wrap around you, and his hand rubs your back. "It's not like it'll never happen, honey."

"Steve," you say softly, hand running down his back, "what if we did other stuff? Sex isn't just… I could make you feel good." You're trying hard not to sound crude, harder still not to sound as scared of his rejection as you feel. He's more than allowed to say no, but you hope he won't. You hope he wants you.

"You could…" He swallows. You hear it loud and clear.

"I could make you feel good," you repeat, lowering your voice. "What do you think, handsome?"

"You don't have to do anything you're unsure of," he says. His breathlessness has your heart leaping in your chest.

You pull back to see his face, find his cheeks warm as you press your palms to them. "I'm not unsure. If you want it, I want it. How do you feel?"

"If you… if you change your mind," he murmurs.

"I'll tell you," you say. You give him a look, the kind of bright-eyed, loving expression you save for special moments with him, pouring all your adoration and trust and wanting out for him to see. You lift your chin in question, and when he kisses you, you take it for a soft yes.

You kiss him while you stand on knees, while you ease yourself over one thigh. Your knee rubs up against him and he shudders into the kiss, his hands leaping to your waist.

"Do you," —you break away from his lips but can't stop yourself from dispersing honeyed pecks between words— "ever do anything by yourself? When I'm away? When I'm at the kitchen and you don't have to go, have you–"

You're asking because you have a great suspicion that he has —one time you came home and he was so, so needy, clingy and sweet and relaxed. Another you might have found him midway, but he hid it well.

Steve nods hurriedly and steals another kiss. "Just a few times," he says.

"How do you do that, sweetheart?" you ask, your hand trailing down his chest achingly slow.

"I– I lay on your side of the bed."

You kiss him harder than you mean to. "Why?" you ask into his lips.

"It smells like you–"

His hands roving up and down your back give you more than enough confidence to grasp at him wildly, your kissing suddenly, painfully desperate, your top lip on fire as Steve pulls your face down to his. You don't have the wherewithal to speak as your hand coast past his t-shirt to the rising tent of his boxers.

Foreign and familiar at once. You've seen Steve naked a hundred times having lived in close quarters with him for as long as you have, and if Steve hadn't seen you before, all those times he's had to sit in the shower room with you lest you panic someone else is in the room would've made sure. You know what the other looks like bare. What you don't know is how they feel, and how they want to be touched.

You reluctantly break your bruising kiss, resting your temple at his cheek as you look down. You slowly, slowly let your fingertips stroke down the line of his cock, beside yourself with giddy excitement as Steve moans breathlessly in your ear.

"Fuck," he says.

You've barely touched him. You flatten your hand as you approach the bottom of his length, pressing your thumb gently into the swelling of his balls. He hisses at your touching and you look up worriedly. "Sorry, am I not supposed to touch there?" you ask, whispering though there's no one else around to hear it.

"Please," he says. He cuts himself off with a laugh, his head tilting back in pleasure as you put your hand back. "Please, touch anywhere."

"It feels good?"

"Please, honey, keep going," he says.

You rub the length of his cock over his soft boxers, near awed as it hardens. You knew he was well endowed, and you've seen him hard and pressing against his jeans, but it feels different when it's under your hand. You drag your nose against the side of his throat, whispering, "Finger condoms really would've been useless," and laugh as he starts to laugh himself, breathless, throaty chuckling that lights a flame in your stomach.

You start to kiss his neck slowly. Your hand is curious but not shy as it works up and down the length of him. Steve readjusts your grip, the pressure of it, his hand gentle on yours.

Your face smushed to his neck, you watch what he's showing you and try to commit it to memory. It's tugging, almost. Kind but with a firm hand.

"Can I see?" you ask.

"Please." Steve is quick to pull his boxers down, exposing the pale length, his ruddy tip, the tiniest bead of precum shiny as it oozes from the head's slit. Your breath catches at the sight of his hand, his long fingers encapsulating the thick girth of his cock and tugging up. "Fuck," he says again.

"Can I do it?" you ask. "Or is it–"

"Honey, it's okay, you can do whatever you want to me," he reassures. "Just do it, baby, please."

He rarely ever calls you baby. "Poor boy," you murmur.

Steve laughs, as if to say, Fuck you, but he's distracted from his plight when you wrap your hand around his warm cock. He pushes your face into his neck instinctively as you start to move against him.

You've enough sense to spit in your hand and work it around. He's hot, heavy in your hand, tip of his cock to the belly button if you press it toward his torso.

"I don't think I'll last long," he warns.

"How do I– do you want me to be gentler?"

He bucks into your hand with a shiver, groaning like the suggestion is agonising.

"Should I use my mouth?" you ask.

Steve really does sound pained, then, his head falling back, his abdomen rising and falling quick against your bicep. "I'm trying to last, baby." It's as though he's begging for something without saying what he wants.

You try to distract him a little, prolong the inevitable as your fingers flex around his cock. "Kiss me," you say, using a tone you hope —you know— will hook his attention. "Please, Stevie, kiss me?"

He drags his head up, cheeks as red as the ruddy head of his cock, the heat practically emanating from him as he gives you what you want. These kisses are sloppy rather than messy, lavish rather than tired. Your tongue presses at the seam of his lips and your head turns heavily to the left, sighing into his mouth as his spit paints your lips. His cock leaps in your hand, and you speed up just a touch, the skin bunching ever so slightly with your ministrations. It gets harder and harder for him to kiss you as his climax builds, his breath coming in pants, his thighs and stomach tightening in anticipation. You pull away, letting him shudder and whine by your ear, his hand like a vice around your forearm that's not helping but holding you. You push kisses into his jaw, the skin under his ear, and weave the hand that isn't wrapped around his cock into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp lightly as you confess.

"I love you," you say, nipping at his neck, printing red crescents in your wake, "I love you," you repeat, hot breath fanning over your hotter kisses. "I love you," you mouth, resting your forehead against his neck.

His head clamps down on top of yours and breath catches, held, his hand practically crushing your wrist as frantic pleasure builds. You speed up even if you're not sure that you should, and it must be the right thing to do —Steve goes white out still and tense as stone, your eyes widening a touch as the first string of cum spills over your fingers. Something snaps in him and he's moaning like he might cry into your hair, breathless panting as sticky cum bumps down over your fingers with each pump, his cock twitching uselessly in your grip.

You soften your grip but don't slow until he gasps and says, "Honey– ah, ah, don't, don't. Please, that's so–" He laughs deliriously. "I'm gonna pass out."

You take your hand from his cock, not grossed out or anything but definitely not sure what to do now. Steve's all but collapsed beside you, his torso sliding behind you into the pillows, twisted up and breathing hard as he wraps his arms around your waist. It's an odd position, not the cuddling you'd pictured, but you're content to let him cling to you if he needs to. He breathes in harsh breaths against the small of your back.

You watch with a burning pit in your stomach as a last bead of cum wets his cock and seeps into his boxers.

"Did that feel okay?" you ask. His cock twitches again at the sound of your voice. You'll have to ask him what that means.

Steve doesn't answer you straight away. He sits up, and he tucks his cock away, and then he sees the mess he'd made of your hand and laughs. He's definitely high from the pleasure of cumming like that after so long, 'cos he grabs your hand and wipes it clean on the literal t-shirt he's wearing.

"Steve, I could've washed it," you complain, laughing with him.

"I'll wash the shirt," he says. He keeps your hand in his.

"Did it feel good?" you ask again. Low, you're shy to have to ask twice, worried he avoided the question. It obviously felt good, but you want the reassurance that you did it well.

He pulls your hand to his chest and leans down for a kiss. "I'm really worried we shouldn't have done that. That was like, pot. You're gateway drugging me." He kisses you again, and he rubs your hand with his thumb. "Felt good, honey, couldn't you tell? You did– you did so good, honey. It felt fucking good."

You descend into another round of messy kissing. He must feel the shape of your pleased smile, as he smiles too, and it's very difficult to kiss each other seriously when your lips are hardly touching.

"Can I ask for something else?" he asks, pulling away.

Your heart skips, 'cos you think he might ask to fuck you, and after all his pretty sounds and the heat between your thighs, you'll probably say yes, and that would be a terrible fucking idea without any protection—

"Let me go down on you," he says.

You gawp. "What?"

"Let me go down on you, sweetheart, please."

"I didn't even go down on you," you say shyly, heart beating in your stomach now. You shove your hand between your legs impulsively.

"If you went down on me I would've embarrassed myself," he says. He follows your hand, his own slipping between your legs. "Only if you want to."

"You don't have to, Steve, I just wanted you to feel good–"

"This is, like, the best day of my life," he says, "or second best, because the first time you told me you loved me was a fucking immense feeling–"

"'Immense–'"

"–I want you to feel like I just felt," he interrupts your interrupting. His eyes are imploring and his hands are soft where they roam. "We can stop if you don't like it, but I think you'll like it," he continues, rubbing the inside of your thigh teasingly. "If you want it, please let me."

You nod quickly and pull him in for a kiss, though you pause when his lips are close and whisper, "I get to go down on you, then?"

To which your boyfriend groans and kisses you roughly. Your lips are tingling from so many.

"I guess it is my birthday," he says, with a faux-bashfulness that has you both giggling.

Later, at Robin's, when you're sure "We just got each other off repeatedly," has been written across your forehead for everyone else to see, and a small party of the older friends have gathered for a drink in Steve's honour, Christopher tosses a rectangle in Steve's direction. It slides right into his lap.

You both look down.

"Happy birthday, Harrington," Christopher says. "Don't worry, they shrink to fit."

It's a box of condoms.

Steve glares at Christopher for the public humiliation, but he puts the box of condoms in his pocket, and everybody gives you shit for it when you're making excuses to leave barely an hour later.

—

thank you for reading!! I get asked to write about their first time more than anything else which isn't a bad thing, I really love that people like this au and that they want to see that, but I haven't personally been in the mood for that! I figured I'd post this even though it stops at hand stuff / isn't an explicit scene of them fucking because it was gathering dust and also because it hopefully answers some questions I get sent often about their sex lives! maybe I can write them fucking in the future but for now I hope you enjoy :D <3

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader

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tachimichishrine · 4 months

Text

"sweet and sour"

◝≞▣≞◜ crime executive!jouno saigiku x gn!reader

warnings: except for a bit of guns + cursing and ooc jouno,, none! this is all fluff :) i didn't write this in lowercase??? crazy amirite

"Jouno Sai... Saigay? I was certain there was gay in there somewhere... Anyways! Hi!! It's a pleasure to meet you!!"

The mispronounced man in question glared at the individual who was giggling happily, strolling around in the office like they owned the place, shooting a, "Hey, Fernando, did you get a new haircut?", "Lookin' good in that suit, Ichika!", and, "Oh my god! Where did you get those shoes, I swear I saw the exact same ones at that store down the street, the uh... what's it called? Y'know what I'm talking about, don't'cha?" to his fellow executives like they've been friends for years on end.

The room had always been tense, from what he recalled. When people entered, they expected to get shot by the boss, or be given a task so difficult to complete that they would ultimately get shot. In short, a meeting with the renowned organization that Jouno Saigiku worked for was a death sentence for his subordinates, even more so for rival organizations.

Yet, this person had been bouncing around the walls like a child in a candy store, waving around the knife at their fingertips like a ten thousand yen bill and showing off the gun strapped to their thigh and waist with the same bubbly confidence of a new outfit they'd just bought the previous day.

'They're going to get themselves killed in no time,' he laughed to himself, waiting for the one in charge to enter the room.

For now, he was responsible for managing the building and their potential customer (from another criminal organization. It made him wonder how on earth someone like them could possibly be working in the same sadistic field as he did) until their meeting began. He'd never met this person in particular before, and wished he would've never had to. However, business was business, and he would need to accommodate them well enough to prevent a war between the two groups to break out.

"[l/n], was it?" he smirked, a strained playful smile that was barely hanging above the devilish one he had underneath. "It's Jouno Saigiku, and I'd recommend that you refrain from making yourself too comfortable in here. You are, as you know, on our turf, which means that-"

"Bla, bla, bla! you're so formal!" they scoffed with a wave of their hands, bouncing off of the velvet couch and strolling up to the executive, glaring at him with a particular expression that he couldn't see. "I'm actually rather touched that you knew my name! [l/n] [y/n], I'm your connect with [criminal organization name ~ [c /o/n]] so don't be a meanie!"

..."Don't be a meanie? "

As if by miracle, the boss entered right when they were about to get close enough to his straightened-out figure, almost army-like in posture, to tap his nose with their fingertip as one does with children. In his field of work, only people of utmost trust managed to meet directly with the person on the top, so he considered that perhaps they were prevalent in some other field that didn't have to do with relationships and appearance. Now, all he had to do was wait for his boss to get infuriated at their attitude and demand that he dispose of them and he'd be able to drag them out back and peel off their skin...

"[l/n], dear! It's been a while, has it not?"

This keeps getting better and better.

"Kantoku!" they beamed out, running over to the old man and avidly shaking his hand. "Oh, I've missed you so! Things have changed around here, didn't they? You never told me you promoted a new executive!"

With a playful eyeroll, Kantoku - the man in charge of his crime syndicate - gestured to the couch and began to converse, almost casually. What baffled him, perhaps the most of all, was that every regular beat of their heart was steady, this wasn't a feigned façade nor overcompensation for fear. This person was truly, genuinely an idiot.

"Pst, Jouno," the woman executive standing beside him nudged his shoulder, "the boss is here so we're free to go. Plus, that asshole who stole from us isn't talking, so we might need your help."

With that, he left behind both the room and the lingering feeling of confusion regarding [l/n] [y/n].

Jouno Saigiku did not have a very complex job.

In fact, his daily tasks mostly consisted of torture and punishment, with the occasionally laying off (which undoubtedly meant death. There was quite a bit of death around him, a certain fading scent that permeated throughout any room he'd visit. This was not a literal physical scent, for that would obstruct his sight and handicap his senses, but nonetheless he found himself rather pleased when he felt warm blood splatter across his soft cheeks.)

Today was nothing different; supposedly, someone from [c /o/n] had blundered and fled right into their territory. Given the amical relationships between the two groups, it was their job to retrieve and return the fugitive, annihilate them if they do not cooperate and it becomes necessary.

At the moment, he found himself seated in a vehicle, driving to the last location that this person was last seen, being described as "[s/c] skinned and [e/c] eyed", all attributes which couldn't possibly make any difference to him, due to his lack of vision. When he asked for a name of this person, he was shocked to learn that it was the same energetical and bubbly individual who vaguely crossed his radar a few weeks back.

"Oi, oi, Jouno slow down, we don't wanna pass 'em 'cause you're drivin' too fast, 'ight?" his coworker for this mission reprimanded. "Just 'cause you can do that fancy hearin' thing ain't mean my eyes ain't good, 'ight?"

Jouno thus pressed his foot with more force against the gas pedal, speeding up the car only because he didn't quite like the tone of this person.

"Hm?" he asked innocently. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you very well, what did you say?"

"I said slow down you-"

They cut themselves off, not allowing for a response since their silence indicated that they had learnt something new.

"Woah, yeah, they're right over there!" they exclaimed, tapping a point on the window so that Jouno could hear the faint sound and distinguish which direction their target was. "Pull over, I'll tie 'em up and toss 'em in the back."

The white-haired man paused momentarily, thin brows imitating each other as they angled upwards in confusion.

"What do you mean? That's not them."

"For a blind bitch, ya really think yer all that, don't'cha? I can literally see them right now, they're standing outside the fuckin' car so pull over and lemme mug 'em."

His lips had pressed into a line, contemplating the situation. The reason he wasn't allowed to go on his own was because they were extremely picky about identifying the right culprit, yet Jouno cared little for his escort of sorts. He'd encountered [l/n] before, and what marked his memory the most, asides from their childlike behavior, was how their heart hadn't betrayed a thing on the outside attitude, despite being blatantly threatened. This person, the one that his temporary partner had suggested was their target, was in fact sweating buckets and had such an erratic heartbeat he might've believed them to be having tachycardia. On top of this, their breathing was not the same, from what he gauged, they couldn't possibly be the right height, build and walking pattern. People on the run obviously become more more jittery when faced with escaping an impossible situation, but this conflicted his knowledge in too many ways to be true.

"I believe," he suggested calmly with a grin appearing, still refusing to unlock the doors or pull over, therefore driving past the individual, "that [l/n] might not be as gullible as we first presumed, and that this person is a decoy set up to distract us."

And so, Jouno found himself pleasantly challenged by the least likely person.

As the sun bled out into the sky during its descent from the zenith to the crepuscule, Jouno had finally managed to shed his gravely irritating partner and complete his task alone.

That idiot - really, that's all he could call them - decided to ignore his words and kidnap the scapegoat. Of course, this person sobbed and repeatedly told them that they're not the right person, that there's been a mistake, but no one believed their words. Inevitably, they were tortured for a few hours and deemed unnecessary. Jouno shot them, then headed back to search for the real culprit.

"Now, where could they be?" he hummed, almost amusedly, to himself. "Most people tend to lay low when running from important and dangerous organizations, but something tells me..."

He was rather lucky, in a sense, that someone had spotted the fugitive near a bar. However, this was over 5 hours ago. People on the run tend to be smart enough to scatter from location to location, but he supposed he shouldn't be overestimating other people's intelligence.

The door creaked with a lowly groan, as did the floor when he applied weight onto it via his heavy tread. Upon first impressions, the bar was nearly empty.

Then, he heard a voice call out.

"SAIGAY!! Ahh, it's been a while, hasn't it?! Come, come! Can I order you anything? You look like a bourbon man, are you into bourbon? Unless... fine wine? Oh dear, don't keep me guessing, come, sit!"

Immediately, as soon as they called out his name and announced themselves with such ardor, he knew he had the right person.

"No thank you," he smiled. "I can't drink, I'm currently at work."

"Are you? Aw, you don't mean you're here to kill me?" they replied, voice dipping down to a pouty grumble as they neared the end of the sentence. "I'm tired of people trying to kill me, it's no fun."

Idling at the entrance, Jouno didn't quite motion to sit next to them, nor did he seek to keep close in case of sudden evacuation. From what he had heard, this person was without ability, so they didn't pose much danger. Nevertheless, he was a cautious man, and had known that false information could potentially be fatal in certain circumstances, especially when the target is acting so laid back.

"You stole half a million yen from one of the most dangerous organizations around, I don't particularly think you'd've expected it to be fun."

Met with muttering, he would've asked them to speak up had he not heard the nearly incomprehensible, "but I didn't steal anything" from their lips.

"You didn't?" he said aloud. "Then where do you suppose the money had gone?"

A pause insinuated, and he pondered repeating his question in a more forceful way when they answered. "Woah, you've got great hearing! I wish I were like that, half the time people talk to me and all I hear is 'bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bl-'"

Jouno pulled out his firearm and pointed it directly at them.

"Enough games. Cooperate and I'll only make it hurt a lot."

"Gee, mister, did someone piss in your cheerios? I'll come, I'll come, just give me a second! I want to finish my drink."

On the table, however, there wasn't a single glass.

Upon having Jouno point this detail out (for while he could not see, he could still visualize objects in space with his other senses), they paused briefly. "So either you're blind but scarily good at it, or you can see through that crazy squinting of yours."

"I don't appreciate you stalling," he hummed, cocking the gun. "Do you think I won't shoot?"

"No, no, it's clear you would!" giggled the individual. "But, oh, do tell me more about yourself. Being threatened is so much more pleasant when-"

He shot them once.

He shot them twice.

Both bullets landed in non-lethal locations, such as their right shoulder and calf, which was enough to get his message across without rushing his punishment for their actions.

"That hurt!" they frowned, clutching at the opening from which blood was rushing out. "Owwie! You really don't like talking with people, do you, Saigay?"

"Saigiku," he corrected with a hiss. "Do you ever stop talking? I could very well kill you right now."

"Well, I sure hope you don't!"

This just made him want to shoot them even more.

He listened eagerly as they let out a few hisses and groans, then a soft squelch and the clattering of a metal against the marble countertop. He guessed that they were taking out the bullet from their calf, since the one in their shoulder had effectively shattered into hundreds of shards, and would require special medical attention immediately if they wished to live for a few more years. Then again, he knew that they probably wouldn't live past tomorrow, so it wasn't his concern.

Letting out a soft gasp while they tore off part of their attire in order to wrap their injured limb, they still seemed to be laughing. "Thanks."

"For the gunshot wound?" the white-haired male tried to clarify. He didn't take them to be such an open masochist.

Yet, his question only spurred a flurry of coughing and chuckles. "Of course not! I meant, thank you for not attacking me further. Really thought you'd kill me here and now, but you're letting me treat my wounds without interference. Is it because you have orders not to kill me?" Adding with a terribly comedic bite of their lip, they said, "Or have you been seduced by my charm?"

Once he made it perfectly clear that he'd shoot again, they backed off on the teasing remarks and requested that he help them up. "To walk," they'd clarified. "I can't walk, y'know. How do you plan on getting me back to your base?"

"I'll drag you by your hair if I need to," he replied.

(He had to hijack a car because there was no way he'd drag a body across the city, especially not a body as talkative as this one.)

"So you're telling me," they pondered while blindfolded and cuffed in the back of the vehicle, "that you're blind, yet you have highlights? They're pretty, I'll give you that, but why did you colour it? Midlife crisis? Doesn't sound right to me, plus you can't even see the colour so why on earth would you do it? Are you responding to me? I can't hear anything with this blindfold over my ears. Aren't blindfolds supposed to obstruct your vision, not your hearing? Man, but maybe I can hear perfectly fine and it's all your fault because you're not answering me. C'mon, Saigay, humor me!"

Of course, he had no intentions of humoring them.

"You're lucky I didn't gag you," he said. "Or cut off your tongue. In fact, knocking you unconscious would've been a splendid idea."

"But you didn't!" the ex-criminal beamed. "Besides, I'm going to get beat up enough once you deliver me back to [c /o/n]. If you ask them to let you watch and/or participate, they won't say no, I think. Pops isn't too strict when it comes to those things."

"Pops?"

"Y'know, the head of [c /o/n]. He's my dad's close friend and the brother in law of your boss."

That explained a lot of things, starting with this seemingly innocent person's involvement with such dark themes. Yet, there was still something Jouno needed to know.

"And you betrayed your own family friend?" asked the blind man, quickly approaching the location of the building in which he was given rendezvous for the drop-off of the traitor.

"Ahh, connections don't mean shit," they scoffed, waving around their tied hands as if to emphasize their point. "But I didn't betray them. I'd have to be an idiot.... No, not an idiot, whatever is worse than an idiot in order to steal money from a man who would've given me the cash if I asked him for it. So, no. I didn't steal anything. That's why I didn't run; I'm not guilty of anything, running would make it look like I am."

Jouno was interiorly perplexed. So they've got a decent brain behind all of that buttery personality, after all. But, there was just something about them that didn't fit with the narrative, something he couldn't wrap his head around.

"Why wait for me to tie you up?" he finally suggested aloud, hearing his own words formed allowing him to make more sense of his confusion. "Why not just waltz into the building? This makes you look both stupid and guilty."

A laugh burst from the backseat, the kind of laugh that makes you want to join in despite not fully understanding the reason behind it. It was however cut short, due to a sharp inhale of pain then a few curses murmured at their injuries.

"Maybe I am an idiot. Maybe I wanted to get caught. Who knows? Maybe this was all part of my master plan to lure you near Negishi Station so that I could use my all-powerful ability."

He spent a few seconds registering that last bit. Lure him out to Negishi so they could...

"BOOM!"

With a jolt, he nearly crashed the car; luckily, in time Jouno had realized that this was just a sound effect from the hostage, and not a real crash caused by an ability. They were, in fact, right next to Negishi, which made the whole thing a huge coincidence, but other than that, nothing occurred. They were still in the car, unharmed and untouched by any ability that he could detect.

Meanwhile, [l/n] was laughing their ass off.

"BWAHAHAH, you actually fell for it!!" they managed between heaving breaths and uncontrollable laughter. "I knew that since you were blind you would be sensitive to loud noises but that worked so much better than I thought it would, you should've seen your face! You were all like," then they proceeded to make a plethora of faces he couldn't see, but that he knew were all mocking him.

[l/n] continued, "By the way, just because I haven't used it doesn't mean I don't have an ability. So watch out for your ass, pretty boy, or else I might just... BAM!"

He did not flinch this time, but he found himself rather frustrated with his previous reaction. People, normal people, never teased him this way. He'd have thought [l/n] would be a bit less friendly around him after sustaining the injuries, but so far, that appeared only to drive them towards a playful alternative to revenge on par with a snowball fight between two children.

"I'll tell you what," concluded the hysterical individual attempting to calm themselves down, "let's do this again, same time tomorrow? Muah, it was lovely meeting you Saigay!!"

Before he could protest or question this, they waved around their somehow uncuffed hands, reached for the handle of the car door, pushed it open and leaped out.

He found himself standing at the entrance of the bar the very next day.

It was beyond frustrating to pick up the pieces of yesterday's aftermath; based on his recollection and the most probable situation, [l/n] likely used the loud noises not only to ruffle and distract him, but to cover up for the sound of the click of their handcuffs being taken off, courtesy of a pin they had picked the lock with. On top of this, their haphazardous mention of Negishi station was just a way of situating themselves in space (since they had been blindfolded) so they could think of the safest escape route.

He quite frankly did not expect to be outsmarted by someone who can't even remember his name right. Yet, the fact remained that he was strolling up to the entrance of the same place as he'd previously apprehended them at, same hour of the day. He rather hated the sunset; nothing felt right for him. Not the consistent buzzing of the cicadas during the day nor the melodic trilling of the crickets; dusk never held a sustainable aura, and for this reason he'd grown to loathe it, despite being told repeatedly that the setting sun was beautiful.

Rushing curtly inside the building, the bells connected to the door jingled, and, almost on cue, a loud cheer roused him from his lucid trance.

"Saigay!! Over here, over here! Can't say I expected you to show up, but I'm pleasantly surprised!" gleamed [l/n] upon his arrival.

"It's Saigiku," he repeated for an umpteenth time, "and I'm here to turn you in."

They shook their head. "I'd have hoped you'd realized that I don't take to being kidnapped. But I do appreciate the perseverance, so I'll make a deal; have a drink with me, then I'll cooperate for an entire 5 minutes without trying to escape."

"...You truly are an odd person," said he, despite taking a seat by their side and waiting. He didn't know what trick they had up their sleeve (rather, their cast. Turns out, they'd gone to a private medical professional in order to have it looked at. He smiled when he noticed this; a sure sign that victory was much more likely tonight.)

"I'll take that as a compliment!" [l/n] laughed heartily, then called for the waiter. "One [favorite drink] for me, and he'll have a cup of whiskey. The good type, y'know what I mean, darling?"

The waiter raised a brow at the nickname and odd hint, but took the order anyways and began preparation. Meanwhile, Jouno sat, trying to protest that he did not want anything to drink, but was quickly cut off by his temporary enemy's much louder affirmations that he did indeed want some.

"You don't look like the type to be trying out sobriety," they hummed, "but I know if I let you chose for yourself, you wouldn't get anything. You'd be all," (and here their voice deepened and became gruff in an attempt to make it clear that they were looking to mock him,) "'I'm here to kill you! I'm a mass murderer so fear me!!' Am I right or am I right?"

Before he could respond, the fingers on their uninjured hand began to flick his dangling earring, on the right side of his face.

"You have an earring," they pointed out, almost stupidly. "Why don't you have one on the other side?"

He wasn't going to respond to any of this. In fact, he was toying with the knife in his pocket, gauging the right moment to strike with such an unpredictable opponent.

"Because I don't," he said dully. The waiter came, their glasses clinking with the ice inside as it toyed around in the liquid, gently being placed onto the counter.

"Fair enough," they smiled. "Okay sooooooo, wha'd'ya wanna talk 'bout? Gimme anything, I hate silence."

That made two of them.

"What is your ability?" he said rather bluntly, with a soft hum. He was in an optimal position to strike, only a few centimeters away, but he thought better than to attack without knowing such an important piece of information. Besides, with the way the conversation was going, they seemed to be eager to tell him the truth, for whatever reason, so he wouldn't lose anything to try.

After taking a long sip from their drink, they paused. "Nothing, I don't have one. You?"

The cautious man pressed further. "I find it hard to believe you haven't an ability in such a dangerous environment."

With a chuckle, they took another gulp from the glass. Then, turning to him with a relaxed heartbeat, they said very calmly and slowly, "I don't believe in needless deceit. Unlike you, Mr. Hide-my-knife-in-my-pocket-that-I'm-going-to-stab-you-with, I don't play dirty. So, when I say that I don't have an ability, don't be so surprised, yeah? The majority of people don't. I supposed when you're gifted, you don't quite try to sympathize with those unlike you."

So, they're aware of the weapon, yet made no move to dodge? Perhaps he's overthinking this, after all there are many people who seem invincible just because one doesn't act based on rational decisions, but based on their feelings. He should know, he spends most of his free time toying with said emotions and tearing them apart.

In one swift movement, he let his knife slide back down his pocket and removed both hands from the shadows.

"You sound genuine," he said, almost to himself.

"Well, I sure hope so," they laughed, despite nothing particularly funny being said. "I am being genuine, after all. You'll be able to bring me in and tie me up properly in a little while, so I'm going to enjoy the now while I still can, that's my philosophy!"

"Your philosophy is to drink something before you get kidnapped instead of trying to escape?" he repeated, incredulous. Perhaps their drink was laced with something, some kind of drug that drags your mood to a high. Even if he smelled no trace of anything other than [favorite drink], he concluded that this was the only reasonable explanation to this indecipherable human being.

Doubling over with a violent wheeze, they were (yet again) laughing at his words. They babbled a few words between gasps for breath, such as, "Didn't know you had a sense of humour!" and "Please, I can't breathe!" like he'd been a world renowned comedian. He almost felt the urge to clarify that he was attempting to degrade them, to criticize them and point out their stupidity, but one does not simply explain themselves when insulting another. Typically, their words transmitted the message well enough, but this was far from a typical recipient.

Finally recovering, they put on a mock angry face and waved around their finger. "You fiend, take it easy, I'm injured! At this rate, you'll make me pop my lungs out, ahah! Is that your master plan? To incapacitate me verbally? Bravo, I didn't expect that!"

"I wasn't..." he said, trailing off as he was thoroughly perplexed. What does one say in his situation? At this rate, his biggest concern was their oddities, not their capture.

On second thought, he nearly forgot that he was here to capture them.

"That's the beauty of it," they exclaimed, waving around their drink and spilling a considerable amount on his shirt accidentally with the grand gesture. "Unintentional torture! Wow, you must be even better than what I've heard about you, Saigay."

Not even bothering to correct them, he said, "And what exactly have you heard of me?"

"One, that you're very attractive. Two, you're ruthless when it comes to sadism. Three, you have exceptional intellect and four, you can hear heartbeats. Is that last one true? Wouldn't that make you a living polygraph?"

He was, but also wasn't, listening. The first thing they'd mentioned was his attractiveness, likely physical, but what an odd thing to point out, that is! Fighting down the odd feeling blooming in his chest with success, he finally mustered a response; an affirmation.

"That must be your ability," they pondered. "Isn't it? You'd be too strong if you had something else on top of this."

With a grin, Jouno explained, "It is not."

A melodramatic gasp could be heard echoing throughout the mostly empty room. "It isn't?? Gah, I must've been astronomically lucky to have escaped you last time!"

He'd've agreed had he not been promptly cut off by a rush of guesses regarding his ability. Most were way off, a select few absurd, and the entirety of them wrong. He felt his face contort into that of a confused expression when they suggested that he might be able to listen to people through walls, drawing an example by explaining that he might, and here the words were engraved into his mind, "listen in on people while they went to the bathroom, thus deducing whether their digestion was going well." Somehow, this had become a conversation in which they recounted the vivid tale of their daunting task of finding a bathroom once when they'd been in a 'foreign environment' - also known as the downtown region of the neighboring city during a negotiation.

All done and said, they'd contented themselves with a fairly one sided discussion, and he sipped down the Japanese whiskey he'd been handed. Upon noticing this, [l/n] stuck out both of their wrists as best as they could, pressed near one another as if pleading.

"Well, a deal's a deal! Take me away, Saigay! Ah! That rhymes! Maybe I should become a poet!" they giggled.

Jouno considered this for a long time, the topic that was on his mind ever since his arrival. The previous day, he'd told his boss that [l/n] couldn't be found, and that he must've made a mistake when saying that the doppelganger was a fake. This, of course, was untrue, but it also gave him leeway in case he found himself up against a formidable opponent. All of this meant that, if he did not turn [l/n] in to [c /o/n], he himself would not lose anything.

It wasn't sympathy, he told himself, that led him to get up and walk away as they left their arms extended. No, it was just an avoidance of unnecessary effort. If he walked away now, he would save himself the hassle of detaining them, all the while giving this person a second chance. Who knows, perhaps they'd be useful to him in the future.

Jouno had not expected to be called by the lower ranking members of his organization early in the morning. What he had expected was to go to his office; not being told that there was a "package" waiting for him at the base.

He hadn't a clue what this package was. His first instinct was that it was a weapon of sorts, a bomb, anything that did damage. Although, it could very well also be a traitor who had been tied up and sent to him as a peace offering. The more he thought about it, the happier he was as he approached the location in which he was expected.

"J-Jouno-sama!" exclaimed one of the nervous underlings - a kid, really - holding a...

...A dog?

It barked at him, growling and struggling in the grasp of the two kids tasked with holding it down.

"What is this, a prank?" Jouno hissed, ready to make them pay before he even got the entire story.

One of them audibly gulped as their blood drained from their face, while the other stuttered an explanation. "N-No! We f-found this dog attached w-with a leash right in front of the building, and there was this attached to its collar," they said as they handed the executive a wrinkled piece of paper which, upon further inspection, turned out to hold an uncanny resemblance to a napkin from a nearby fast food place.

On it, there were an assortment of dots which were ink being pressed hard onto the fabric. Braille, he concluded. This person seemed not only to have specifically destined this to him, but desired to keep the contents for him only, rather than have someone read it for him.

On it, he managed to decipher the following:

'Dear Saigay, Thanks for not trying to kill me!! I'm certain you're just a big softie heheh. The doc told me I shouldn't be moving around too much after those wounds you gifted me, so now I'm kinda on house arrest lolol. Either way, I'd've loved to thank you personally but can't so I got you a present, its name is undecided yet BUTTTTTT they're a bitch just like you so I called them saigay jr. for the time being ♡ plus I figured you never had a guide dog, right?? So here you go! XD

p.s. you never told me what kind of drink you liked. was I right about the whiskey? pls tell me!! i'll recover properly then find you, so you better have an answer by then >:( p.p.s. heheh peepee s p.p.p.s. you still haven't told me why your hair is dyed p.p.p.p.s. SAIGAY JR HAS YOUR MISSING EARRING BTW!!'

What on earth-

He certainly was no longer angry at this weird dog, but at the owner.

What made it worse was that the two kids had finally gotten over their fear of him and started calming down the dog (which he was not going to called Saigay Jr., much less Saigiku Jr.), noticing the earring; it was only a clip on that was obviously made up of cardboard clippings and poorly colored insides, as well as engravings that he could physically feel and recognize, but the resemblance to his own was noticeable. He wondered if this was an insult from [l/n] disguised as a present, but decided that there were too many exclamation marks for this to be anything resembling a threat. Not to mention the "XD".

Now, he had to figure out the dog. It's too much noise and too much effort, besides he doesn't like dogs all that much. He supposed he'll just have to snatch off that wretched earring and dispose of it before anyone makes the link and this haunts him, then kick it out. Surely it'll wander back off to its home or whatever. None of what followed would be his concern.

"Jouno s-sama, what should we do with the dog?" uneasily asked the kid. He shook his head, snatched the makeshift earring in one fell swoop and crumbled it into a ball in his hand.

"Take it outside, it isn't mine and I don't care about it. This was just a prank from someone I know."

With this, Saigay Jr. was released back onto the street, the collar still coated with braille dots that spell out its name.

Once work was done, he decided to go for a walk, for some fresh air. However, Jouno was not expecting to hear panting coming from his side.

Saigay Jr. barked at him, happily wagging their tail and bouncing on their paws.

"What is wrong with you," he swore under his breath, then made his tone much vocal. "Go away! I don't want you here!"

None of this, obviously, got across to the dog, who was still following him closely.

"I said go away!" he yelled, a bit louder but also significantly harsher. "Stupid bitch."

It somehow reacted differently, barking much more avidly and skipping over to him with apparent excitement.

At this rate, he'd never get rid of the dog. He contemplated calling the pound and having someone take them in, but knew that this was likely an unnecessary step to take. Regardless, he'd have to get rid of it soon. All this barking is going to make him dizzy soon.

The sounds subsided as it transitioned from growling to a soft whine, choosing to lay down. It was then that he noticed a certain odor that he hadn't paid attention to before.

...Blood?

He almost could've sworn the dog was injured.

Jouno decided that it was not his concern and left it there, on the street, alone.

The dog was certainly a stubborn little thing, as it was there when he came to work the next day.

He took out his gun, shot it in the air (loud noises hurt him a lot, but he knew the same applied to the animal) and hummed contently as it scurried off out of fear, out of his life.

Saigay Jr. came back the very next day.

"Oh, will you fuck off already?" he groaned, taking out his gun yet again to fire a warning shot. Of course, he wasn't going to actually kill the beast, but he was reaching a point where he was very well considering it.

He stopped himself as he heard it whine, then lower itself to the ground, almost bowing to him in a human fashion.

"I'm not keeping you. [l/n] should've just left you in the dump where they found you," he said, realizing that he was talking to a literal dog.

He reached his hand out with a sigh, and began to pet it. This clearly made the dog calm down significantly, as it was finally getting recognition from the one it believed to be its owner, and so it didn't noticed as he curled his fingers around the leash, detached the ends of the collar then used it to attach the canine to a post.

As soon as it realized its situation, it began to growl, barking aggressively at him, then pouting and almost seeming like it was about to cry. Jouno didn't care, however, as he took out his burner phone and dialed animal patrol.

Somehow, by some un-abiding law of the universe, Saigay Jr. was there, sitting happily, waiting for him outside of the building in which he operated.

Its leg and arm seemed to be getting better, he could tell, which made it likely that it wouldn't stop coming back to annoy him.

"It's like a miniature [l/n]," he laughed to himself.

Over time, he'd almost began to enjoy his daily encounters with the animal. He found it almost enjoyable to pet and ruffle its soft fur, eliciting the pleasant reaction of a calm dog.

Today, he decided, he would stop pushing it away. It's Houdini, this mynx, a Houdini who refused to disappear and could get out of any trap he laid for it.

"First off," he crouched down, stroking its ear, "ground rules. You are not my dog. I'm doing this to see if it'll get rid of you once you get bored with me. Got it?"

Ears drooping, Saigay Jr. seemed to be saying, "aww, but I wanted to be your dog!", to which Jouno replied with a look that said, "Don't make me get up and leave."

"Second rule, keep your piss and shit away from me, I'm not touching or smelling any of that. Third, you do as I tell you to. Understood?"

He wasn't expecting the dog to nod, but would've liked seeing it react other than burrowing its head further into the palm of his hand. Reluctantly, Jouno didn't resist, and sat there entertaining its need for physical touch for a few moments before springing to his feet.

"I'm going home. You are not allowed in my house," he warned, turning around.

Saigay Jr. followed him home anyways.

Somehow, as the day turned into night, he found himself helpless when it comes to resistance against this dog. It was thankfully very unproblematic, not making much of a mess when they arrived to the apartment which he lived in (it wasn't his, evidently. The criminal organization he worked for simply scared off all the tenants and let their members live there, unofficially.) He gestured to a corner for it to stay while he settled down, and stuck there for as long as he told it to.

As he took care of his own affairs, the time to rest finally came, and the dog didn't appear to have any plans to depart from its new best friend.

"Leave," he repeated forcefully, pointing to the door left ajar for it to crawl outside. "I said leave."

The message seemed to be getting across, as Saigay Jr. finally began to trek towards the entrance.

Then, it used its snout to shut the door, returning promptly and sitting down in front of him, waiting for some kind of reward.

"I'd really wish you'd die right now," he threw a hand on his face, tilting it upwards to display his frustration. "Fine. Let's play this the hard way."

He walked outside his apartment, knowing that the dog would follow, and shut the door behind them both. With a smirk, he activated his ability, disintegrating into the smallest specks and re-entering the room while sifting through the openings on the side of the door.

This way, he was back inside while the animal was whining from the outside, scratching occasionally to ask him to let them back in.

"Absolutely not," he laughed proudly, tossing himself into bed, trying to will himself to fall asleep before he'd begin to feel guilt about leaving the diligent and loyal gift from [l/n] outside.

A click, a creak and a shuffle later, and he heard a very clear panting noise.

Saigay Jr. had somehow managed to get inside.

"Fuck, you know what? I don't care anymore," groaned the tired man. "I give up. You win."

As he let himself doze off, the dog had crawled up onto the bed and softly laid its head on his chest, breathing steadily.

Jouno wouldn't admit that the sound and feeling was a nice change to his norm.

At this point, Jouno had practically adopted Saigay Jr.

He didn't hear anything from [l/n], which he found odd since it had been over 6 months since he'd last seen them. He knew that he shouldn't be thinking about them; he'd only known the peculiar individual for a grand total of about 3 encounters, one of which he hadn't even interacted with them and the other two being attempted kidnapping and murder. The white-haired man knew that the only reason their image stuck in his head was due to this dog, this constant reminder of them, on top of their boisterous personality that he could've swore made him look at people like him (who had little to no personality, all business and no fun, as they might've said) differently.

The dog was a weird new addition to his life as well. He'd never seen it eat nor require to be walked. In fact, their relationship had gotten to the point where he was becoming more and more eager to be in its company; he woke up with Saigay Jr. (whose name he couldn't bring himself to change nor get out of his head), the both of them walked to his work, and then when he was done with his daily torturing, the loyal animal was waiting for him at the door of his apartment. He occasionally let it sleep in his bed, but mostly it found a small corner on the couch where both of them seemed content. It was a particularly odd situation; Jouno did not like pets. In fact, he didn't like people, so why would he expose himself to this small, fluffy thing for daily companionship? He didn't know, but found that there was no need to question a mutually beneficial situation.

Today, however, something odd had happened.

Saigay Jr. was not waiting in front of his door when he got back, covered in the heavy smell of blood for today's session was especially... artistic.

"Junior?" he found himself calling out, a name he never had the need to say out loud due to their chemistry. Yet, there seemed to be no movement nearby.

Weird, he thought, but there's no need to make a big deal out of this. The animal probably had to attend to its animal business, or whatever. Maybe the meeting that they always attend while he's at work was running late, he humored himself.

A few hours later, and nothing happened, no one showed up scratching at his front door or barking at it. He'd told himself that he was going to keep going on with his day as if nothing happened, but sleep was difficult to find because of the nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

It was then that he heard a knock at his door.

Not a scratch, but a knock.

He grabbed the firearm from the drawer next to his bed, and greeted the guest with a smile as he unlocked the door cautiously.

"Saigay!!"

He couldn't believe it; [l/n] was standing at his door.

"Sorry, sorry, I know this is sudden but at least be glad you were wearing pants when I knocked on the door," they spoke casually, letting themselves into his apartment and spreading themselves on the couch like they'd been living there for a while, in a particularly odd way that eerily resembled that of his dog, "but I was running late since my dad was telling me that I should come clean about this whole thing and bla bla, y'know that old man wisdom? You seem like you know what old geezers think. Anyways, Dad was givin' me the lecture and whatnot, so I told him that since I was mostly recovered, I might as well come and say hi without barking."

"Without... barking?"

He squinted his eyes even further as he tried to make sense of this.

"So you didn't gift me a dog, you..."

"Were the dog? Yup! The name's actually Soseki [y/n], and I've been a spy at [c /o/n] for about a year or two, can't remember too well since my time was cut short by a certain injury some pretty asshole gave me. Annoying, ain't it? I hate getting shot at. Being a dog is so much easier."

"You lied," he said, trying not to panic from the fact that he had been sharing his life for quite some time with another person in disguise, "when you said you didn't have an ability."

"Of course! Isn't that what everyone does? People lie tons, like when you told 'Saigay Jr.' that you didn't have a ticklish spot, only for me to find out that you have sensitive ears and chest. Very ticklish, especially when you think no one is watching."

He felt the blood rushing to his face while he swallowed dryly. What else had he done accidentally in all that time? He couldn't possibly have kept track of everything.

"Aw, he blushes," they laughed, tapping his nose before he could recover. "Relax, I'm not out to get you. I thought you were interesting and cute when you kidnapped me, so I thought I'd put you to the test for a bit while I recovered from my injuries. Okay, not so much a test, per se, but I wanted to hang out with you. I had a feeling you were lonely, and I was right!"

Heartbroken wasn't the right word to describe how he felt; what was running through his mind was a hellish mixture of embarrassment and fear of vulnerability. It's the sensation one feels when one is deceived and looks back on it, wondering how they could've been so foolish. He should've known, he kept telling himself.

"I get that you probably feel humiliated. Dad says that most people do, so I've just gotta smile and remind them that I've got a terrible memory," they laughed, reading his mind. "Maybe once you get over it you'll come to realize that I wasn't lying about wanting your friendship."

With a timid smile, nothing like what their usual bubbly personality would typically make, they bowed gently to him, seemed to consider leaning in to hug him, then decided that this all would be too much at once.

[y/n] left, hesitantly adding, "Same place... tomorrow?"

Why had Jouno showed up at the bar where they had originally been introduced, all those months ago, when he'd been so foolishly deceived?

Perhaps it was as he kept repeating in his head, that he was there to pick up the pieces of his torn dignity. Or maybe it was to finally kill them and receive the reward on their head.

Or was it to accept their offer?

He reassured himself that he couldn't possibly, that people were terrible and he couldn't let himself get soft with this one or else he'd become mushy and weak. He wasn't sure what terrified him so much about that idea, but he didn't even consider it as an option.

As always, the bells jingled as he entered, but there was no shout of his mispronounced name.

Nevertheless, he took a seat at the counter, ordering the whiskey not because he wanted some, but because he subconsciously attributed it to this location and time, despite not having an overwhelming number of memories here. He supposed that certain memories can be short but impact you more than you could ever fathom.

Even while he waited, he'd began to feel the pit of his stomach drop, like he had a cavity in his chest in place of a soul. Jouno hadn't realized up until now how accustomed he'd grown to a persistent joyful presence in his life, be it [y/n] under human or canine form.

The waiter returned, placing his order against the counter, and murmuring in a melodic voice, "I didn't expect you to come."

He didn't have to glance upwards to know it was [y/n], and so kept his gaze downcast.

"I'd say I'm sorry but I don't quite see anything to apologize for," they said, taking a sip out of his drink, lips lingering at the rim of the glass. "I had a lot of fun in the past few months, haven't you? My approach might've been a bit cruel, but think of it as Karma for shooting me, twice. This way, we're even! Wha'd'ya say? We good?"

Jouno's mouth betrayed him as he snatched the cup from them, chugged it all down at once, then said, "yeah, why not?"

Immediately, their heart rate sped up from excitement, and they leapt across the counter to trap him in a bear hug. Trying to resist but knowing there was no point, he eventually melted into their embrace.

Pulling away, they giddily babbled, "Okay, so now that you've forgiven me, I feel like it's a great time to mention that I've seen you strip multiple times and I would've told you that it was weird to change your clothes in front of a dog but I didn't know how to tell you or look away without acting weird so I just went with it and I feel like maybe I should compliment your stellar abs while I'm rambling like this but complimenting you will probably not do much good so how about I just offer you another drink and we forget this whole thing?"

Jouno cursed under his breath, nearly chuckling but not quite, realizing that they were right. "Fuck, what else did I do?"

"Well, I've got to tell you that your snoring is adorable, but you roll a lot in your sleep and that, mister, is something we need to take care of."

For the first time since he could remember, Jouno laughed a genuine laugh, not laced with malice or sugarcoated, as he listened to [y/n] vividly recounting their numerous embarrassing tales of him, only to be teased back for their dog habits like the panting and tail wagging. He'd've thought that the drinks were making him loose, but [y/n] had actually told the waiter to give them both multiple shots of apple juice.

As the night progressed, Jouno slowly found out that he'd opened himself up a lot more than he was comfortable admitting. Yet, this made him both want to retreat and lock [y/n] out of his life and invite them into his daily rituals, to never let them go. On the other hand, [y/n] had always found him to be a wonderful person, and only became further entranced as they watched him operate on a daily basis.

Somehow, Sweet fell in love with Sour, and Sour fell in love with Sweet.

Another set of months later, Jouno returned from a particular mission given to him in the middle of the night, exhausted, ready to do nothing expect collapse onto the bed and sleep.

He was practically dragging his feet as he approached the door of his apartment, inserted the keys lazily and opened it. As always, his partner called out for him.

"Sai!" they said, skipping up to the door and noticing his beat up expression. "Damn, what did they force you to do this time?"

He shook his head before burying it into the crook of their neck and letting his hands dangle by their side. "The guy I had to interrogate was an opera singer, lungs of fucking steel." Strands of his hair were brushing by their skin, and his lips were murmuring against the warmth. "He wouldn't stop screaming my ears off, even with the gag."

Unable to contain their laughter, they poorly comforted him with a rub on the back while shaking from giggles. "My poor baby, today hasn't been your day, has it?"

Almost like handling an infant, they snuck their arms under his own and half-carried him to the bedroom. Getting in with him and tenderly placing a kiss on his cheek, [y/n] traced out random features on his face with their fingertip, hoping to soothe his body with touch.

"You smell terribly by the way," they said sarcastically in a deep sultry voice. "Do I kick you out to sleep on the couch or are you gonna take a shower? I can smell the blood on you, darling."

Half-asleep already, he slurred a, "Tomorrow...", followed by, "It's not my fault you've got the nose of a dog."

"You aren't any better," [y/n] teased, rolling over on top of him and kissing his sensitive lips with the delicacy of a flower blooming in spring snow.

"Just... let me sleep," he groaned, waving them away like a fly, only to have his hand caught by their own.

"Mnn, fine," murmured the [h/c] haired individual, gazing at him softly with heavy eyelids, as mesmerized with him as always. "Want something fluffy to snuggle into?"

"No, stay the way you are."

With another kiss that lasted a bit longer and in which Jouno participated weakly, [y/n] rolled back and cradled his head, bringing it onto their chest.

"'Night, [y/n]," he managed to say, shifting himself so that he was curled up against their figure. After a brief pause, he shuffled himself again under the covers, resting his head on their body. With their chest steadily rising and falling in sync with their consistent breathing, he found that he slept so much better.

They smiled gently.

"Goodnight, Saigiku."

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #saigiku jouno #jouno saigiku #bsd jouno #jouno bsd #jouno x reader #bsd x reader #jouno bsd x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #jouno x reader bsd

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jaylienpotter · 8 months

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Runaway

"Coming!" Incessant knocking vibrated the whole Godric's Hollow. Fleamont was still at work and Euphemia was far more patient than that. "Coming!" James ran down the stairs, wand in hand. They were dangerous times. He opened the door and pointed the wand at whoever was outside, only to find a somewhat familiar face. "Black?"

"Can I please come in? I don't know where else to go..." Her face was dripping with tears. Her black hair chopped to her jawline. White dress dirty and ripped in some places.

"Yes, of course!" He took her in and closed the door. "Sirius! Your sister is here!" The older brother nearly flew downstairs, both worried and glad to see Hydra.

"Bloody hell, are you okay?!" Given no time to answer, baby Black was squeezed in a hug.

"I'm so sorry Sirius... I should have listened to you... I shouldn't have stayed... You were right, they're evil. I just really wanted to be a good daughter, I really did..."

"What happened??"

"They were marrying me off to Amycus Carrow... I can't do this, Sirius... He's so odd and mean and..."

"It's okay, you don't have to. You ran off from the wedding?" Hydra nodded. "What happened to your hair?"

"I..." She looked at James unsurely but nothing mattered anymore. "I cut it. I cut it because I don't want to be like this anymore. I- I don't want to be their daughter nor- nor your sister, I... I don't want to be a girl..."

Sirius hugged his baby brother through his sobs "Hey, it's okay... It's okay. You could have told me."

"I was scared... And- I didn't want mother and father to find out..."

"Fuck them. They don't matter anymore. You're safe. James, do you think she- he can stay here?" The boy in the dress smiled at the masculine pronoun, feeling slightly better now that he knew he had someone supportive.

"Yeah, of course! You can come to my room or you two share. We'll take care of the logistics later. Black, did you bring anything with you?" He shook his head.

"Just my wand." Potter nodded and started going upstairs.

"I'll see what I can get you. Make yourself at home." After he was out of sight, the newly addition to the house turned to his brother sadly.

"I'm sorry Sirius..."

"It's okay, you don't have to apologise. You were brainwashed. I'm sorry I didn't get you out of there..."

"I would've stayed. I wanted them to be proud of me but no matter what I did I was just a bloody prize to be handed over... Siri I... I have the mark..." He extended his arm painfully. He didn't want to upset his brother. But he wouldn't be able to hide it, either.

"What matters is that you're safe now. And you're not on their side anymore. Focus on what's important. Like getting a new haircut. You were not born to be a hairdresser." That had the wanted effect, a laugh. He probably hadn't smiled in a long time. Sirius always made everything better.

"I missed you."

"Missed you too. Dork. So, do you have a new name?"

"Oh. I... I don't know. I didn't think about it. With the denial and war and wedding and running away... But I don't like Hydra."

"When James gets you clothes, take a warm bath and you can think about that, yeah? No hurries."

"Thank you... I-" He bit his lip. Forbidden words, these were. "I love you."

"I love you too." The comfortable and intimate hug was interrupted by the sound of stair steps.

"Oh- sorry uh... I have clothes for you. They'll probably be too big on you, I did try to find things that don't really fit me anymore. I left them on your bed. We'll probably go shopping tomorrow."

"Thanks. Sorry for coming uninvited..."

"Well, we did invite you a few years ago. It's not like it had an expiration date so technically you're not uninvited."

"Thanks Potter."

"You can call me James. What should I call you?" Baby Black was still uncomfortable in this strange house so his brother jumped in.

"He's still deciding." James nodded.

"Alright, let me know when you do." Sensing they wanted privacy, Prongs went back upstairs, figuring Padfoot would show the house around.

"Shower?"

After being shown his new bedroom and how the bathtub worked, he took a much needed long bath. He tried focusing on his breathing, going underwater sometimes. After getting dry and clothed (he looked somewhat... muggle), he stared at the mirror.

"I really do need a haircut..." An unknown voice was heard from downstairs. A woman. Probably Mrs. Potter. He carefully went to the living room, where the three of them sat.

"Oh, hello! I'm Euphemia. You can call me Effie." He smiled politely and nodded. "My husband Fleamont should be here in an hour. Don't be afraid to ask us for anything, alright? This is your home now."

"Thank you, Euphemia. I really appreciate you letting me stay."

"Of course. Sirius is family so by extension, you are too. Are you hungry, dear?"

"A little..." Effie got on her feet and walked to the kitchen.

"Any food allergies? Things you don't like to eat?" She shouted from the kitchen, sounds of cupboards being opened.

"He's allergic to peanuts!" The youngest looked at Sirius, wide eyed. It wouldn't take Effie long to realise he was a female.

"What? Oh, we told her. She's cool with these things. Said she knew already when I told her Remus and I started dating.

"Are you, still?"

"Yup! He likes books a lot too, you know? Reads everything. You got that in common. Do you still play chess?" He hummed in affirmation and his brother kept talking (like the mouthful he always was, idiot). "Pete is amazing at chess. Bloody brilliant. Moony is good too but no one beats Pettigrew."

"Moony?"

"Oh! Yeah, that's Remus's nickname. We all have one. I'm Padfoot, James is Prongs, Remus is Moony and Peter is Wormtail."

"Why?" Those were quite strange, especially if the person didn't know the context.

"Oh uh..." Sirius and James exchanged glances.

"It's based on our patronuses." Potter spoke first. The pause was a bit suspicious but he couldn't afford to care. Miss Potter came back from the kitchen with a plate of cookies.

"Do you like cinnamon, dear?"

"I love it!"

"Here, have some cookies. I will prepare dinner in a few minutes so that it's ready by the time Monty gets home. Do you like spices? I use them a lot in my culinary. But I can make something softer for you."

"It's okay, I'll try. These cookies are really good!"

"Thank you! James and I made them."

A while later, Mr. Potter got home, introducing himself as Fleamont "but you can call me Monty". They were a lovely couple. Actually looked like they were in love, nothing like his and Sirius's parents.

At the table they had a completely different dynamic from the Blacks. They chatted cheerfully, laughed, joked, rested their elbows on the table... They would be seen as improper, indecent, and bad-mannered. But they were just happier. It was most noticible in Sirius, the only one Black had a reference to. He looked so much healthier there. All the resentment he had for his older brother for running away vanished. He had made the right choice.

"How do you find the food, sweetheart?" He was having a bit of a hard time, not used to this kind of flavours.

"Mhm, it's good."

"No need to lie, it's okay you don't like it. I made some plain rice and chicken without the sauce."

"Sorry, I don't want to be an inconvenience. I can eat it, I'm just not used to it." She got up and took his plate.

"Nonsense. I don't want you getting sick. I'll be right back with your food."

"Thank you..." She was absolutely lovely. A late mother, by her looks. Both of James's parents looked older than most. But they weren't by any means ugly. Neither was their son. The Potters had good genes, apparently.

When they were all nearly done with their dinner, the new house member made an announcement.

"Uhm... I think I've chosen what name I want to use." He had everyone's full attention. Felt pressured but pushed it down. "I'm thinking of Regulus."

"I like it." Monty agreed, tone casual.

"Me too." James smiled encouragingly. Regulus understood now why his brother liked him so much.

"Regulus, okay. What nicknames can I make out of it?" He rolled his eyes. Sirius couldn't be stopped. "Regul... no. Reg, yeah that's a good one. Reggie... Reggie!"

"Sure."

"Is it a star?" Effie's dark eyes were so warm. Opposite to Walburga's piercing cold gaze.

"Yes, from the Leo Constellation."

"Very well. Welcome home, Regulus."

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iron-sides · 5 months

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Wrote a little future thing taking place after the roadtrip fic 👍🏻when i say they're all living in each others pockets i mean if mary or tim was even slightly less devoted to being ruthlessly polite Mary would've been subjected to live footage of every last one of these bitches

Mary looks at her boss through the windows into his office, looks back at the calendar he’s just sent her, and then back at her boss. Shakily, she reaches for the phone.

“Sir,” she starts when she hears the click, “Are you sure this is the correct calendar.”

Mr. Drake huffs, as is his right as Obnoxiously Rich Fuck #7 and CEO of the company. He’s a very busy man. “I only have the one. What’s wrong with it?” “It’s just— it seems very full, sir. Should I be seeing every time you go to Metropolis for a haircut?” Mary takes deep breaths. Rage. Good, that’s good, hang on to that. Be polite and be angry that’s the best defense when it comes to… whatever’s wrong with this one. She survived Mr. Wayne, if only for a year and she didn’t even call him Brucie once no matter how many times he asked her to. Remain professional, keep the job, pay off Mom’s mortgage. All things are possible through frosty polite fronts and frequent trips to the rage room down the street.

“Oh! That’s not me. This is a shared calendar with some… friends. Of mine.” WHY DID HE SAY IT LIKE THAT. Mary smells fish. “You only need to worry about anything in green, and it would be greatly appreciated if any appointments you added were in green as well.”

“I see. You’ve given me, your personal assistant, access to a personal calendar you share with,” she counts, under her breath, “let me see, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven? Seven other people?” Deep breaths. Deep, calming breaths.

“Yeah, that sounds right. Actually, I have some free time right now, I can run you through them? Might help you to know who’s who.”

In what fucking world would she have time for this. “Sure, Mr. Drake, if you think so. I’ll be in in a moment, just have to send this email.”

With a click, he hangs up the phone. Not even a goodbye?— She’s going to kill him Why is he getting up. Mr. Drake opens the door to his office, grabs the chair on the other side of the damn room, drags it around next to her, and sits down in it. “Easier if I come to you, I think. Hello, Mary.”

“Hello, Mr. Drake.” She glares, hits send, and switches tabs to the calendar from hell. “What is this.”

“Okay.” He starts. He stops. He tries again. “So, several friends and I all ended up sharing one personal calendar several years ago because it made organizing get togethers easier. Two of us are just so busy this was the simplest solution.”

He begins naming people— the friends, apparently— and pointing at colors. “Okay, so Cassie’s yellow, Conner’s blue, Bart’s lime green, Anita’s purple, Bo is black, Greta’s brown. You don’t need to worry about them as a rule, they’re not famous or involved with business or anything, and none of them live in Gotham anyway although Cassie, Kon, and Bart visit all the time.” He points at a red event labeled— Mary does a double take— Olympics Practice— “Cissie’s red. Cissie is Cissie King-Jones, she’s an actress and Olympic athlete. You generally don’t need to worry about her activities, but when she’s in Gotham I won’t be availible until she leaves. We typically have a few events together that you’ll see but if it’s not both I’m not free. She’ll never be in town longer than a week, though, unless there’s some kind of emergency.”

He’s friends with Cisssie King-Jones. Like, from Wendy. And the Olympics. Okay! Okay, cool, this is fine. “And how did you all meet?”

He stares at her. “Well, Cissie and I met because Bruce knows her mom’s ex. Bart’s and Cassie’s cousins are friends with Dick, Bo’s and Anita’s dads know Bruce and Conner’s brother, and we actually met Greta’s brother first but he was an asshole. It’s obviously more complicated than that but we were all like fourteen. It wasn’t that big a deal.”

She blinks at him. Sure! Fine! This may as well happen! “Okay! Thanks for the explanation, I’ll let you get back to work, now.”

He leaves. She adds an appointment, and color codes it green.

#my thots #mary is a throwaway oc btw i respect tam too much to make her put up with this #my fic #this isnt Enough for me to bother putting it on ao3 <- its not rlly a fully story its barely a complete thought ->#however ! i like it enough to put it on tumblr #tim drake #dc comics #fanfiction #young justice 1998 #young justice mention !#<33 they

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mynameisnotsoda · 2 months

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A Brief History of Studentbur (according to me)

After recent events I'm renaming studentbur to Adam Will Bishop, it's not a big change but i don't wanna use Wilbur as a name for the bursonas anymore. I'll probably give the rest their own names as well at some point.

Adam's parents are heavily Christian, growing up they never let him express himself as he wanted to. He used to ask for dolls, girls clothes, etc. generally more "girly" things cause pink was his favorite color as a kid. Eventually he learned to stop asking, and to shut up and be grateful for what he was given whether he liked it or not.

Adam isn't allowed to do ANYTHING with his hair, he prefers to keep it short (which his parents want anyway) but he wishes they would let him cut it differently or dye it.

One time when he was younger (maybe 4/5) he got nipped with scissors while getting a haircut and he cried so hard he threw up. He was so scared of getting cut again that he refused to go for months, which only made his dad pissed, so he started cutting Wilbur's hair himself.

As the only child Adam receives ALL his parents attention, good and bad, he feels suffocated by them. His mom is overbearing with severely untreated anxiety and his dad is a very.. traditional man. He's the cause for most of Adam's distress with being himself.

He's gotten REALLY good at bottling up his emotions until he explodes. Usually his pent up emotions just lead to him sobbing uncontrollably for hours, while hiding away in his room after everyone's already gone to bed, just so he doesn't get punished for having feelings.

Adam went to this k-12 Christian school up until sophomore year. He was really isolated since EVERYONE knew each other they basically grew up together. So he didn't have a chance at making more friends after a while.

For the longest time he had trouble making and keeping friends, he was the obnoxious weird kid and eventually his parents and his peers broke him down. He's horrified of social interaction and the genetically inherited anxiety disorder doesn't help either.

Once he switched to public school he was noticeably less stressed. Even his parents noticed the improvement so they didn't bother pestering him about going to a different Christian school instead. If it weren't for his mom he probably would've been sent off somewhere he didn't choose, she's not a great parent but definitely the lesser of two evils.

Adam tried to befriend Tommy at first but once he saw how loud and annoying he was he kinda backed off and tried ignoring him (except Tommy wouldn't allow that because he needs to know EVERYONE)

He didn't befriend Charlie until after he started going by "Chad Bussy" and became one of the cool kids. (Ps. Charlie's the foreign exchange student and Ran moved there when they were younger) Charlie immediately liked Adam and basically claimed him as his best friend the moment Adam started trying to get to know him. He loves yapping and Adam loves listening, although a lot of the time he'll trick Adam into talking about himself and his interests.

Adam and Charlie have been best friends for two years, that's when he finally confesses after having feelings for Charlie for maybe a few months

This is so messy but yeah !!!! Here's some other miscellaneous stuff about the au that doesn't completely revolve around Adam

Adam's parents hate Tommy, he's too loud, too vulgar and is very disrespectful (in their eyes). They like Charlie but he despises them. They hate Ran just cause they're queer. They are kinda indifferent to Bill but he doesn't like them so he avoids going to Wilbur's place when he can.

Tommy has a few friend groups he's apart of but really likes sticking with Adam, he loves annoying the shit out of him. (And his brother, Techno, is 12 years older than him. So. He likes having a brother that's closer to his age)

Dr. Hilton and Mr. Marriot are two separate people who look oddly similar. Dr. Hilton was Adam's abuser at his old school but hasn't seen him since.

Mr. Marriot is just the goofy English teacher who desperately wants to be seen as the "cool teacher" by his students. He's painfully aware of Adam's discomfort towards him and has no idea why (because he never wants to talk about it)

Adam's the only person who's allowed to call Charlie, Charlie. Everyone else has to say Chad Bussy or Charles (Charles being mainly just for the teachers)

Adam, Charlie, Tommy, Bill and Ran end up being close friends!! (They end up staying friends after highschool too :3)

Once the squad (courtesy of Charlie and nobody else having a better group name) graduates they basically follow Charlie back to America. Charlie's parents are actually pretty wealthy so they stay with him for college !

This has been in my drafts for weeks 😭😭

#Spotify #bursona #bursonas #sodapoppys ramblings #he means so much to me #the religously traumatized loser ever actually #hes been my favorite since the video came out (even tho i had no idea wtf bursonas were)#tom simons vlog #studentbur #save me studentbur save me/ref

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berylgrace · 1 year

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won't find out until we grow (percabeth drabble)

i don't care that it's not halloween. shut up and let me be me

"Are you ready yet? Hurry up!"

Annabeth turned back to the mirror, satisfied with the precision of her eyeliner and dabbing a few final touches underneath. Everyone claimed girls took forever to get ready, but whoever had originally said that clearly hadn't met Percy, who had been in the bedroom for far too long. They were going to be late if they didn't leave in the next ten minutes, and the last time they were late, they'd endured hours of ridicule from their idiot friends, speculating on the reasons why.

Percy's voice emerged from behind the door, sounding extremely perturbed. "Annabeth... what is this?"

"Your costume!" She shouted back. "Come on, put it on already!"

"It's so ugly. This pattern is making my eyes bleed."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, fashionista. This is what people wore before they had Thrasher hoodies and sweatpants, alright?"

It went quiet; presumably, he knew she'd won, and had given up and started getting dressed. She stepped back to get a better view of herself in the mirror, smoothing out her long, dark hair so it lay flat. Then Percy spoke up again, this time even less certain than before.

"...Even the mustache?"

"Especially the mustache," She insisted, double checking her purse. "No one will know who you are without it."

"I don't even know who this is!"

"He was big in the seventies!" She called out. "Now come on!"

He paused. "Is that... tell me that's not a wig."

Annabeth grinned, glad he couldn't see her. "Well, I didn't think you'd be up for growing your hair out. I'm wearing one too, what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is, you look stunning and I look like I should be in jail."

She stifled her laugh behind her fist. "Then it's right. Look, we have to nail this because I am not losing this costume contest to Hazel for the second year in a row. Piper let me know what she's doing, and we don't have a chance in hell unless we commit."

Percy went quiet. "What's she doing?"

"Annie."

"Fuck it," She heard him curse from the other room, "She's capitalising on how cute she is. She's an evil genius. Okay, I'll do it. We have to beat her."

"Thank you." Annabeth shot a quick text into the groupchat, letting everyone know they'd be leaving shortly. "And hey, if you're up for karaoke, we can score extra points with this one duet. Just trust me."

"I always trust you," He grumbled, "That's the problem. Alright. Don't laugh."

The bedroom door swung open. Annabeth bit her lip, hard.

It was better than she'd expected. The bell bottoms, the garish shirt, the pageboy haircut and fake mustache, and better still, Percy's unimpressed expression. A lesser person would've been intimidated, but Annabeth knew better than to buy into his looks - the fact that she'd gotten him into the costume in the first place was proof enough that he couldn't fight her on it.

He joined her by the mirror, sulking even as he wrapped an arm around her exposed waist. She beamed and posed, appraising them as a couple. True to character, almost her entire midriff was bare, with bright colours and stripes leading down to flared trousers that made her legs look a mile long. The long, dark, straight wig was the exact opposite of her natural hair, which she'd braided back and tucked into a low bun as best as she could, but she kinda liked it. The retro makeup she'd been practising certainly helped, and sure, she'd got the better end of the deal - Cher had been a fashion icon ever since she'd walked into Studio City - but in her opinion, Percy made an excellent Sonny.

"Well?"

Percy blinked. "The longer I look, the more I start to like it. Get me away from this mirror."

She laughed. "We look amazing! We have to take a pic for your mom."

"What? No." Percy looked horrified.

"I already promised! Look, smile!"

---

"Alright, alright," Percy's voice echoed through the room, the cheap micropphone giving it a tinny, muffled quality. "You guys are all sadists for enjoying this, so as a thank you for voting me and Annabeth the best costume of the night, we are now going to assault your ears with the cheesiest duet known to man."

"THAT'S MY BOY!" Jason yelled.

"YEAH, GET IT PERCY!" Frank added.

He slipped an arm around Annabeth's waist. "You know, Paul loves this song."

She kissed his cheek. "I know. Piper's recording it for him."

Percy blanched. "What? No!"

"Too late!" Annabeth beamed. "They say we're young and we don't know..."

#enjoy xoxo #my writing #percabeth #couldn't get this idea out of my head. it's just so me #also my dream costume idc

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thelaundrybitch · 1 year

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Sunny's Haircut

Hello Turtle Doves!

I have jumped into something a bit new. This will not be for everyone, and that's ok.

This is an AxelShine story- a wlw series

This means Sunshine and Axel are girlfriends. There will be romance.

Just so there are no surprises when you get to the end of it.

Disclaimer:

Sunshine is my OC ☀️

Axel belongs to the amazing @shiftandshade 🔧

I have been given permission to borrow Axel, and I am forever grateful. 🫶🏼

**Since this is a new series, Please let me know if you want to be tagged. Feel free to leave it in the comments, or you can DM me.**

18+ content - for mature audiences only

Reblogs only, please!

Artwork by @knightish-knight

Sunny's Haircut

Gum.

There was fucking gum in her hair.

Sunshine let out an aggravated huff while the base hairdresser attempted to get the wad of pink atrocity out of her messy bun.

"Someone definitely stuck this in your hair," said the rabbit yokai from behind her.

"Do you remember if anyone touched your hair somewhere today? That might help us find the culprit…" the elder Leonardo offered.

Sunshine watched in the mirror as Creepaw checked out the attractive male rabbit from behind. She gave him a devious smirk as their eyes met in the reflection, his eyes going wide at being caught window shopping.

She sighed, thinking back. She would've had to have been sitting in a public place. "Honestly, the only place that anyone would've had access to the top of my head would've been at lunch today. Unless they were hella tall. And I highly doubt that Jey or Eli would've done it," she assessed, her mind turning over all the people she'd seen in her laundry room that day.

"Alright. I'll call up security and see if they have anything on the cameras," Leo said, eyes focused on Usagi's lower half.

"Cameras?" Sunshine inquired, doing her best not to laugh at Leo's blatant gawking.

Leonardo cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling, "Yeahhh… Deer demanded cameras after a few noodles had been oodled in their kitchen," the turtle replied, eyes darting nervously and looking anywhere but at the blonde, only proving he'd been one of those noodles.

"Gives a whole new meaning to Deer's all-you-can-eat buffet," mumbled the bunny through a snicker, sending the blonde into a fit of giggles.

“Maybe they need a sign that says “Liquor?”... Not allowed!” Sunny busted out, making the rabbit throw his head back in hysterics.

“You two are terrible. I’m leaving,” Leo said, annoyed anguish falling over his face. “I’ll get back to you later, Sunny.”

“Sunshine,” corrected Usagi, giving the elder Leonardo a look of warning.

Leo put his hands up placatingly, then turned to leave through the clear glass door that said “Barber” across the top.

After another twenty grueling minutes and a half dozen curses, Usagi came to the decision that the only way he could remove all the gum was with scissors.

Sunshine deflated in her seat, tears in her eyes. She knew how much Axel loved her hair. And loved to play with it… And pull it…

“Well, chop it then, I guess,” she pouted, unable to meet Usagi’s eyes in the mirror.

“I’m really sorry, Sunshine. This gum is more like glue, I swear.” He rested his hand gently on the sad woman’s shoulder, sitting in front of him. “Do you want to look for a picture of something you might like?” He asked her, stepping aside to grab a few books with samples of women’s haircuts in them.

“Nah,” she sighed. “Do whatever you think will look good. I trust your decision.” She forced a smile at the rabbit, who was frowning back at her. He knew how upset she was.

“Well, it’s probably going to be shorter than you’ve had it,” he tested, watching for her response. Sunshine just nodded.

“How about a pixie cut? You'd be absolutely adorable,” the bunny gushed, playing with her hair a moment while she thought about his suggestion.

“Mmm… Maybe not that short, there needs to be enough to…” her words died in her throat as the bunny grabbed a handful of hair at the back of her scalp and pulled, so she was looking up at him.

"Don't worry. I'll leave enough for your little girlfriend, love," he said with a naughty smirk.

Sunshine had never turned so many shades of red, so fast, in her entire life as Usagi winked at her, releasing her head so he could turn her seat. He spun the chair so she couldn’t see the mirror, and instead, she was watching out the door of the salon.

He put a smock around her and tucked a towel into the back of her collar right before she heard the buzzers.

Sunshine nearly flew out of the seat, making the bunny laugh, “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” he chortled, turning the buzzers off and putting them back into the drawer. “Trust me. Women’s cuts are my favorite to do. It’s more of an artistic outlet for me,” he confided, spraying water over her hair.

Sunny felt her heart squeeze as the first few cuts were made, and her long hair fell to the floor.

“You alright?” Usagi asked quietly as he continued to snip away.

“Yeah…” Sunny replied, staring out the door.

After a few minutes, she spoke again.

“Hey, Usagi?”

“Yeah, Honeybee?”

Sunshine smirked at the cute nickname, “Why does the door say Barber if you’re a hairdresser?” she inquired.

Usagi stopped what he was doing and thought for a minute. “It was already on the door when I was hired, I suppose.”

“You know what I think?”

“What do you think, Honeybee?” Usagi smiled, knowing Sunshine was up to something good. She had that sassy tone in her question.

“I think you should change it.”

“To?” He was intrigued now, as he walked around the side of the seat and looked down at her.

“To *The Hare*,” she said, poking his arm, “Dresser,” she finished with a shit-eating grin as she looked up at him.

The smile that spread across Usagi’s face threatened to split it right in two. “I love you,” he snickered.

✂️🐇✂️🐇✂️🐇✂️🐇✂️🐇✂️🐇✂️🐇

An hour later, Sunshine was in Usagi’s arms, professing her love for him and his magic scissors while he chuckled, reveling in her happiness.

“Now, go find your hot-ass mechanic and let her run her hands through it in the throes of passion,” he teased, winking at the blonde as he opened the glass door for her.

“And you go hunt down the sexy maintenance guy to fix the wording on your door,” she sassed right back, getting a good ruffle and wide-eyed look from the rabbit. Sunshine bit back a laugh as she leaned in and whispered, “You’ll have to let me know who finished first… The tortoise or the hare.”

“Sunshine, I swear to God…” Usagi warned, pushing the woman out of his shop as she laughed at the top of her lungs.

She turned and made a zipping gesture across her lips and winked. “Your secret is safe with me. I promise. And thank you again, Usagi,” she said, giving him a genuine and loving smile.

“Anytime, Honeybee. Now go,” He shooed her in the direction of the garage and returned to his salon to clean up the used station.

Sunshine practically skipped to the garage. She was full of nervous excitement to see Axel with her new haircut. She loved it, and hoped that Axel would too.

Stepping through the door, she yelled, “Honey! I’m HOME!”

A quiet chuckle came from the other side of one of the vehicles, as Sunshine quickly made her way over to where her girlfriend was hunched under a hood. She grabbed Axel’s waist on either side and gently bumped her pelvis against the other woman’s ass.

Axel’s let out a husky growl. “Already being naughty, I see,” she said, removing her body from under the hood. She turned to face Sunshine, and the smile on her face sobered into surprise upon finding Sunny with very short hair.

Sunshine’s face dropped. “Does it look alright?” she whispered, fear flooding her veins as Axel studied her while she pulled her gloves off. “Someone put gum in it, and Usagi couldn’t get it out…”

Anger flared through the mechanic’s being for a split second before her heart sunk at how concerned the blonde looked. Axel searched Sunny’s pretty face for a second. “Sunshine, I don’t care how short or long your hair is. You’re beautiful no matter what,” she said, cupping Sunny’s cheek with one hand as the other made its way around the blonde’s waist.

Sunshine swallowed hard, casting her eyes downward, “But you liked my long hair…”

“I liked it because it was your hair,” she said softly, lifting Sunny’s gaze back to her own. “It’s you, Sunshine. Not your hair.”

Sunny’s heart was overflowing with love for the woman standing before her, as her eyes pricked with tears of relief.

“And, actually, I really like it,” Axel said with a smirk, slipping her hand to the back of the blonde’s head to run her fingers through the shorter locks.

Sunshine closed her eyes and let out a small pleasurable shiver as Axel played back and forth between scritches, and grabbing small handfuls of Sunny’s hair.

A mischievous smirk tugged at one corner of Sunshine’s mouth upon one overzealous tug.

“I see what you’re thinking,” Axel husked, tightening her hold and yanking Sunshine’s hair, so she was facing the ceiling.

Lips and teeth grazed and ghosted over Sunshine’s soft skin, resulting in a small whimper.

“I did that on purpose,” she moaned as Axel sealed her lips to the junction of Sunny’s neck and shoulder.

“Mmm?” she hummed, before giving the blonde a good bite.

Sunshine grunted through gritted teeth and grabbed her girlfriend’s hand that was tangled in her short hair. She pulled Axel’s hand free and pressed her body against Axel’s, successfully pinning her to the vehicle next to them.

Sunshine gave Axel a sultry smirk and bumped the mechanic’s nose with her own. “Mmmm…” She hummed back. “I had Usagi leave enough to pull… You wanna go try it out?”

If you enjoyed it, Please reblog for others to enjoy 🤩💕

Enjoying my work? Find my 🔧AxelShine☀️ Master List HERE

@turtle-babe83 @shiftandshade @sharpwindow @leosgirl82 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @nittleboo

**If you aren’t on this list, please let me know if you want me to tag you in the AxelShine Series OR if you prefer me to not tag you 😘

#thelaundrybitch #AxelShine #tmnt oc sunshine #tmnt oc sunny #tmnt oc Axel #tmnt aged up #tmnt au #sunshine #sunny #shiftandshade #wlw #wlw love #tmnt wlw #18+ only

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rainythealias · 1 year

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Will We Have Enough Time?

(Warning for brief mention of dissection/a dissected frog, I have squeezed days 3 and 4 together because I missed day 3 due to a concert I had to perform in) Chuuya plops down on his bed with a sigh, leaning back and letting himself fall into the soft sheets, his baggy t-shirt wrinkling under him. He had just taken off his binder and his back was still sore, the offending piece of shapewear having been thrown into the laundry basket.

The sun was setting, the last bits of daylight peeking through his curtains, the sky fading into gorgeous golds, pinks, and lavenders, the clouds barely visible in the haze. His next door neighbor was suspiciously absent, the fiend known as Albatross usually throwing pebbles (where does he even find so many?!) at his window this time of evening. Oh well. If he didn't do it now, he'll either do it at some ungodly hour at night or double the amount thrown tomorrow.

Why was he even doing this? He could be studying for that new science assignment or doing his long overdue math homework, but no. He was thinking about his stupid classmates at 9, the haze of mid-June heat seeping into his skin and making him awfully aware of how he felt. Just so that he wouldn't have to hear the dishwasher outside, he puts his headphones on, dragging them from his desk and plugging them into his phone, putting on whatever playlist he could find.

It was the second to last week of school.

The others would be graduating soon, Pianoman and the others heading to university, either in another country or overseas.

And soon...

It would be Chuuya's turn.

It would be Chuuya's turn to graduate in a year. His friends were all going to scatter, and so will he.

He may never see some of them again.

But he was just being dramatic, wasn't he? It wasn't like his friends were dying, they were just moving away. Plus, it wasn't all of them, only the seniors were leaving. His other idiot classmates would stay. Like the insufferable fish-boy from his algebra class who'd fling little bits of paper at him when the teacher wasn't looking and gape like a mackerel when surprised.

Regrettably, they had gotten to know each other. Some would say that they were friends, best friends, even. Chuuya agreed to an extent, but there was something about Dazai that just felt... different. Maybe it was just the power of how obnoxious he was, the boy standing out in his memories both as a troublemaker and not. Some of his pranks were funny. The others were painful, sometimes even seeming malicious. He had lost many an hour of sleep to the boy's antics, like the time he'd nearly thrown up after finding a dissected frog in his bag after getting home, the innards making a mess of his possessions.

He would be lying if he said they weren't close, even if the other made no sense to him at times and pestered him and texted him so much in the middle of the night Chuuya thought he was dying. Even if Dazai was dying, he would've probably been happy about it, his strange fixation on suicide alarming but easy to get used to after more afterschool hangouts than anyone could count, outings to cafes and boba shops and...

Just what was he feeling?

What was this feeling of safety and familiarity and warmth?

What was making those tiny sparks he felt in his fingertips when he held onto the other's freezing hand, leading him through the crowd or vise versa?

What was the bubbly feeling in his chest when Dazai joked about how when they were 30, if they were still single, they would marry for tax benefits because of course the bastard was interested in not paying as much money as he would otherwise? Why didn't he want it to be a joke?

His hair looks soft. Chuuya wants to run his fingers through his fluffy brown hair, all choppy and messy. It was the special kind of self-made haircut, one that screamed "I hated my long hair and fuck anyone who tries to comment on it" and makes Chuuya think that if Dazai had been given any dresses, he'd burned them.

He remembers how they tried to come out to each other at the same time, on Chuuya's bed scrolling through Dazai's twitter feed, both of them somehow yelling "I'M TRANS!" at the exact same time and collapsing into a fit of giggles afterward, Dazai's arm on Chuuya's chest and Chuuya's foot poking the bottom of Dazai's. He remembers cuddling hard it knocked the breath out of his lungs. He remembers starting to trust Dazai, how he had taken off his binder in front of him for the first time, expecting some sort of comment on "chibi's boobies" but getting nothing of the sort. He remembered the sharing of snacks and soda. How they tricked people into believing they were a couple. (It was Dazai's idea!)

And come to think of it, Dazai's eyes were quite pretty too, but Chuuya thought all eyes were pretty, and Dazai's just happened to stand out. Reddish brown eyes that shone amber in the sun, looking almost black when they stayed out late with hot chocolate in the winter to stargaze.

Chuuya's never liked a girl, though plenty liked him. Whenever prompted with the question, he'd simply tell everyone that he didn't know her name and that she was in a grade above him, leading to many, many rumors and lots of drama. That excuse would stop working soon, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it. Maybe he'll move on to saying grade below him instead. He sure hoped it would work.

If he's never liked a girl, or anyone for that matter...

Was he in love with Dazai?

Was that a possibility?

Would it even be possible to figure this all out before Dazai left for summer vacation? Would he have enough time next year with how easily sick the other got to stay with him?

Chuuya's face flushes at the realization that he thought Dazai was attractive.

Fuck. Maybe he really did have a crush on Dazai.

But would there be enough time to spend with him? Would there truly be enough for both of them before Dazai had to leave for America?

As the last rays of the sun died away, Chuuya realized something.

There will never be enough time.

There will never be enough hangouts, enough outings, enough moments. There will never be enough. It would be good while it lasts, if it does.

There will not be enough.

And there never will be.

There will never be enough time to be small.

Time is a funny, funny thing. So are memories. Some you will never get back, and that little thing you thought was insignificant may be your only piece left. The seashell on your desk. That faded polaroid from elementary school. The shoes from your first school dance that pinched your toes. Your aunt's fresh baked pie.

Silently, Chuuya hopes that he will never forget.

Silently, as he slept, he did not dream.

#chuuyaweek23 #chuuyaweek2023 #chuuya fanfic #bsd event #bsd chuuya #bsd #bsd fanfic #fanfic #angst #fluff #coming of age #ao3 writer #writing #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai x chuuya #school au #transgender #transmasc

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rappaccini · 1 year

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🔪 tua please?

send me send me 🔪 + a fandom and i’ll tell you which character i hate and would sell to satan for one corn chip

sloane. as of s3 it's gotta be her.

lila pitts was very much created to take vanya's place in the plot after the writers decided to reduce elliot page to the token queer, but at least ritu arya gave a great performance as the white violin we should've had, and lila had some interesting qualities and could've fit into the story as her own character after retooling. plus her s3 diego's-baby-incubator storyline was so astonishingly sexist that i actually feel sorry for her at this point. like, imagine being ritu arya, spending s2 being technically the female lead, getting the best and craziest action/romantic/dramatic scenes, and you open up the s3 scripts to learn you are now… the Pregnant Girlfriend who spends ten episodes wandering after the guy you’ve been with for one week trying to convince him that a little white boy is your biological child. oof.

sloane? was made exclusively to break up allison and luther's relationship, by being the foil to allison in the most sexist way possible.

by this i mean (expanding a lot from this)

allison's bitter and traumatized and has a nasty temper, so sloane is sweet, innocent and can't get mad no matter what!

allison's power can be frightening and get her into dodgy moral situations, but sloane's just makes her float prettily. sloane doesn't have the ability to control luther, or anyone else. he'll always be in control of her! see, there's no potentially ambiguous morality here! just a nice thing to look at!

allison stands up to luther when he makes poor judgment calls, and is in charge of how their relationship progresses, so sloane is totally submissive, never questions him, and lets him make all the moves, even when he's being an idiot

allison is black (you know damn well that one of the big reasons alluther never caught on, and why s1-era fandom kept insisting that luther was secretly abusing and dominating allison/that she was secretly manipulating him, is that it's an interracial ship between a black woman and a white man. you know that's a factor in why people instantly went gaga over raymond. you know that if allison had been played by a white woman the reception to alluther would've been different) and sloane is just ambiguous enough to make sure the fandom doesn't hate sluther for being interracial--- and also so the writers have plausible deniability for how racist they're being by turning allison into a hysterical, sexually aggressive, irrational angry black woman stereotype in s3 right as they make her one of the season villains and then immediately replacing her with a blonde white-passing woman with no indicators that she's latina beyond being played by a white-passing latina actress. and this character is apparently Luther's True Love and a True Member Of The Umbrella Academy even though sloane has known them for three days and allison has been with them for thirty years.

allison is a twice-married divorcee with a child by another man who engages in intimacy with luther extremely slowly and only ever when she gives him the go-ahead and then suddenly in s3 decides to try to rape him, and sloane is an innocent virgin who's never been in a relationship or been kissed... and then does nothing but give luther sex for the three-day duration of their relationship. she's literally a sexy virgin.

right as allison gets a hackjob haircut and starts running around in the same depression wardrobe all season, sloane appears with a full blowout, short schoolgirl skirts, midriff-baring tops, revealing workout gear and tight leather outfits. yes, this is the closest thing to a nitpick, but given everything else, it feels significant. 'why would you want to be interested in frumpy allison, when sloane's so put-together and appealing?'

allison is active in the plot and goes investigating when she can't get an answer/is 'nosy,' and sloane never questions anything! she never tries to participate in the plot, even when the world is ending or members of her family who she supposedly loves are dying. she doesn't even try to get to the bottom of why her future husband's longtime love who he only 'broke up' with three days ago is sitting front row at their wedding with a funny look on her face and something has obviously happened between them. sloane would never try to be anything other than luther's love interest. she knows her place. sloane stays at home, so when luther wants sex she'll be right there to give it to him!

allison goes to luther for advice on how to deal with her worries and problems and seeks comfort in him, and sloane would never worry luther with her issues! what issues could she possibly have? existential terror about the apocalypse? trauma from a lifetime in a doomsday cult vigilante team? insecurity about wanting to leave the only life she's ever known? worries about her teammates going missing or dying? of course not! she's just here for him and his problems!

not only is sloane just a hollow shell of a male fantasy, but she was made specifically to be cast in a good light right as allison is demonized, in order to make allison look even worse in comparison. in the same way that lila is vanya's straighter, sexier replacement, sloane exists to be allison's purer, sweeter, more submissive replacement. but the lila-vanya dichotomy can only be derived from knowing the comic canon and the way the fandom influenced the writers. the sloane-allison dichotomy is literally in the season as canon. the writers decided to make allison's character assassination into a team sport by pitting alluther against sluther in the most unnecessary canon love triangle yet, but wanted the audience to choose team sloane so badly that they set allison up to fail at every opportunity.

(not to mention the character assassination of luther. in seasons 1 and 2, luther was unquestionably deeply in love with allison, quietly waiting for her for decades, didn't judge her for her sexual relationships and children with other men OR her shitty behavior unrelated to romance/sex, valued her opinions and insights, comforted her in her moments of vulnerability, wanted to be a part of claire's life but only on allison's terms, helped her accomplish her goals and let her set the tone of how far the relationship would go. the one time he oversteps is when he locks vanya up, but given that from his perspective, vanya and her serial killer boyfriend just slit the love of his life's throat and left her to die alone, it's very understandable.

then suddenly in s3 he's retconned into this shallow ~himbo~ idiot who only ever saw allison as an object to project a fantasy of playing house with a beautiful sexually available hargreeves woman with [... if he had that ring since the moon, then he was saving it for allison], and the second allison gets frumpy and is in a state of severe distress, he suddenly throws her aside for a stranger who he insists is his Perfect Match on the basis of... what? being sheltered and nice, having powers, and being sexy?)

(...and the narrative backs him up. it frames all his scenes with sloane as True Love instead of shallow infatuation, their marriage as Genuine and Sweet instead of cartoonishly stupid, and it has the whole family welcome sloane with open arms-- and the discarding of allison after years of them being accepted as a couple-- instead of looking at the relationship like 'what the fuck are you doing'.)

yes, i can pretty much immediately see a better role sloane could've had in the story, but the way her existence is looped in with the assassination of allison's character (and luther's) and her relationship with luther is too much for me. and unlike lila, her character and the actress's performance present no immediate interesting ideas or missed potential. making sloane work doesn't just mean retooling her character-- it means completely changing season 3's plot and all the character dynamics. the reason for the character's existence, the lack of depth, the endemic sexism in every aspect of her characterization and the mountain of work required to fix this mess makes her the worst to me.

as a dear friend once said, i would pay satan to take her.

#asks #tua salt #tua tv #tua s3 salt #i haven't ranted about tua tv in a while but i Have wanted to go in on how much i hate sloane. thanks for this.#sloane hargreeves

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casspurrjoybell-23 · 24 days

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LOST and FOUND - Chapter 4 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

"You didn't tell me everyone in our entire family was going to be here," I grumbled to my brother as we drove up to my parents house and I saw all the cars parked along the street.

"I told you it was a family barbecue," Liam said, not getting my irritation.

"I thought you meant our family. Just like..."

He was giving me that look that said he did not understand me.

My family had looked at me like that a lot the past few years.

"Never mind," I said.

I had been expecting our immediate family at the party.

As in, Mom, Dad, Liam and I and maybe our Uncle Tim.

I did not expect everyone even remotely related to us to be here.

I sighed, not wanting to face them.

Somewhere along the way I had sort of become the black sheep of the family.

The one everyone gossiped about.

"Did you here Beau is with someone more than twice his age?"

"Oh the scandal."

Liam found a place to park and we got out of his truck.

As we approached the house, I realized I should've brought something.

Harrison would have made sure we came with some kind of food dish or something to drink.

I felt woefully guilty walking in empty handed.

He would've given me a good spanking for forgetting good manners.

As soon as we walked into the house I was being smothered.

"Hi, Mom," I said and she squeezed me so tightly I actually thought she might kill me.

"Oh, I'm so happy you're here," she said with emotion in her voice.

I knew my mom loved me but it was hard to remember sometimes because what she thought was best for me was completely different than what I believed I needed in life.

I hugged her back because I hadn't seen her in months and I was truly happy to see her.

If she didn't mention Harrison in a hurtful way I was sure we could get through this barbecue with no mishaps.

She finally pulled back and put her hands on my cheeks, just looking at me.

I'd been told many times I looked just like my mother.

The pale brown hair, green eyes, petite noses and full lips were all exactly the same on us.

I'd also inherited my height from my mother.

It was something I had learned to accept a while ago.

I was never going to be tall enough to reach the top shelf.

"Look at you," she said, smiling and looking sad at the same time.

"I don't like it when you stay away for so long and now you're all alone, over there..."

"It's okay, Mom," I forced out, putting on my fake smile.

I changed the subject by saying...

"I'm sorry I didn't bring anything. It totally slipped my mind."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm just so glad that you came," she said, leaving all the sadness behind and finally looking genuinely happy.

She kissed my cheek and grabbed my arm to pull me further into the house.

Liam had left sometime during my talk with Mom and we found both him and Dad in the kitchen, standing over the queso dip with beers in their hands.

My dad smiled at me and I went around the kitchen island to give him a side hug.

"How's my little boy doing?" he asked in his rough voice.

I punched him lightly on his large stomach.

"Not a little boy, Dad," I said with a frown.

"You'll always be little to me," he replied.

I sighed and reached for a chip.

"You need a haircut."

He ruffled my hair, terribly messing it up.

"Dad, I've had the same haircut since I graduated high school. I like it this way."

I shoved a chip into my mouth.

He had told me numerous times that my hair made me look like a girl.

It was only shoulder length, just touching the tops of my shoulders but that was still too long according to him.

I was tired of arguing with him about it so I tried to shut down that topic of conversation as soon as possible.

I pointed a stern finger at Liam as he took another drink of his beer.

"Don't get drunk. You still have to drive me home later."

Mom touched my back.

"Why don't you stay the night? Your room is still exactly the way you left it."

I fidgeted, not knowing how to say no without sounding completely rude.

I needed to sleep at home... Harrison's and mine.

I couldn't explain the anxiety I felt being so far away from the area that had truly become home to me during the past seven years.

I was aware that Mom wanted me to move back to their house but I knew I could never do that.

I still had no idea how I was going to afford living by myself without anyone to support me but I wasn't asking my parents for help.

They didn't know about all the bills I couldn't pay.

Liam didn't even know about them.

I hadn't told anyone.

I guessed the only person who knew now was Jona.

"I can't. I have work tomorrow," I lied.

That got my parents asking about work and I felt there was a lot less pressure on me after that.

Mom brought me out to the backyard where everyone was gathered in groups, talking, while my younger cousins ran around and played.

She stuck by my side and took me around to say hi to everyone.

The looks I got from everyone were half happy and half pitying.

They all clearly felt sorry for me but some of them tried to cover it up with how happy they were to see me.

No one mentioned Harrison which I was so grateful for.

I didn't know how I would handle a conversation about him with people I barely knew.

Finally my mother let me go and I wandered off on my own, only to find myself playing in our old sandbox ten minutes later.

I had fun building a sandcastle with my cousin Henry and half-cousin Katie until my cell-phone rang.

I wiped my hands off on my jeans and pulled it out of my pocket.

It was a number I didn't recognize so I ignored it and put it back in my pocket.

"Beau, help with this part," Henry instructed and pointed to the very top of the castle they were constructing.

It looked like a hot mess but I was helping as much as I could.

Less than a minute later my cell-phone rang a second time.

I got it out of my pocket again to see it was the same number calling me.

I frowned at it but decided to answer.

Either it was an important call for me or they had the wrong number.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" said the voice on the other end of the line.

I recognized it immediately.

It was Jona and he didn't sound happy.

"What do you mean where am I?" I asked.

"I'm at your house right now and you're obviously not here, so I want to know where you are?"

There was no patience in his tone.

I wiped my free hand on my jeans again.

"You can't just go to my house," I hissed into the phone.

I realized this wasn't a conversation to have in front of children.

They were doing a good job of ignoring me but they still had ears.

I stood up to move to an area where no one could overhear me but Henry and Katie started to protest.

"I..." Jona began to say something but stopped when I said a hushed.

"I'll be right back..." to the kids.

He was too quiet for a moment as I walked away from the party.

"Who are you with?" he asked with an edge to his voice.

I scrubbed at my eyes with my free hand, feeling stressed because of this conversation.

"Jeez, Jona. I'm at my parent's house. There's a party. My brother picked me up this morning."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he sounded genuinely confused that I wouldn't give that information to him.

I looked up at the sky, exasperated.

"Remember the part where I told you only my boyfriend can tell me what to do? Well, guess what? You're not my boyfriend, Jona," I said with some attitude.

"I don't have to answer to you."

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namedaftercommunists · 2 years

Text

(Ran)ning a Bussiness [Ran Haitani]

Masterlist

"Two hours ago 3 of our members were found dead in their rooms, since then that number has increased by 5" Mikey states, a few report papers on his hand -most probably given by Kamado-san- as he skims its contents.

A heavy silence falls in the room. 3 people are in the room as of now, namely; Me - Haitani Ran-, Haruchiyo-san, and Mikey-san. We were in preparation for a meeting that was to be held 30 minutes from now but it seems as though this incident is concerning enough to have it rescheduled for now.

"It could either be a breach or the work of a few rats" I muttered out. "It's might be the latter" Haruchiyo added, a small grin forming on his face, no doubt more than willing to find out who and where the traitors are.

'He seems tired' A passing thought enters me. Haruchiyo had a faint dark outline on the lower part of his eyes. Eye bags, undoubtedly from the lack of sleep and the lack of drugs in his system.

"I agree." Mikey stated "We'll have to re-schedule the meeting for today. Sanzu I'll have to send you out to Atami Port to get a file for me, I'll notify the attendant so that you'll have a car waiting for you when once you get down" A hum of agreement leaves Haruchiyo in response.

"Haitani, you were the last one to know where Koko went. Do you know where he is now?" "I'm sure he went out to pick someone up from a prison a bit farther away from here. He should be back around this hour or so" I reply in thought.

'Something about the Valet position' I echoed in my head.

"That's good, I'll have to send you down to get him and Takeomi up here. They can help with figuring out who these people might be coming from" "No problem, Boss" I reply, he says a thank you in response before dismissing us.

' It's colder than usual tonight'. The casino -though bright and jovial as usual- was near-silent from the outside. The only sound to be heard was the hum of cars and motorbikes that would pass by the road and the soft tune of the howling wind. The cold bit through my coat and chilled the exposed skin of my face and hands, sending an occasional shiver up my spine.

' I wouldn't have had to do this if Haruchiyo had put even the slightest amount of thought before making that decision.' Though the driver he picked was scouted by Kokonoi -a respected executive of Bonten- it didn't change the fact that the woman was still a stranger and shouldn't be trusted with having to transport a recently-come down and sleep deprived Haruchiyo.

' I personally have to wait out here in the cold for him.' I thought in distaste. 'I couldn't have had just any lackey wait out for him. There would've been too much of a possibility that they could be a rat'. A sigh leaves my person as I continue to lean on the wall of the casino.

' I could just wait for them insi-' My thought gets cut off as a black BMW pulls up in the parking lot. The same BMW that Haruchiyo took to get to the Port. I remove myself from the wall before making my way towards the vehicle. I rest a hand on top of my 9mm in case a gun would ever be pointed at me and a bullet exchange would happen. Just as I was a few steps away from the car, the driver seat window rolled down, revealing the alert expression of the scouted woman.

"Hello" she starts off. "You're the guy boss got out of the elevator with, aren't you?" She asks, hesitant to even be talking to me in the first place. I notice the engine had never been turned off and her hands were still both on the wheel and stick shift, ready to either drive off or run me over if she ever sensed something off.

"Boss?" I asked, knowing there was ever only one person who insisted they be called by a title rather than their name. 'less personal' he says.

"Mullet" she states as I snicker at her answer. Oh to be a wanted criminal summarized only by the name of your fashioned haircut.

"Sanzu Haruchiyo" I expand. She nods in haste after, only then do I hear the click of the now unlocked car doors. 'At least I know she takes her job seriously.' I thought as went around the vehicle to get to the passenger seat. 'Still, she may be a bit too trusting of others, she should change that.' I open the passenger door only to be met with a sleeping Haruchiyo, a hand in his pocket -out of view from the driver's seat- clutching his Glock just as I had not too long ago.

"I'll take care of him from here on out," I say as I turn around and position Haru's legs to hug my waist from the back, and his arms to wrap around my neck. Essentially carrying him piggy-back style.

"How do I know you're not just kidnapping him" she states. Her eyes essentially glared holes in the back of my head. "Haitani Ran, I'm a friend. You just saw me get off of an elevator with him remember?" I turn to face her, Haru still asleep on my back.

"Yukioto Ei, and friends can still kidnap each other even when the other one doesn't want to be" she states. Her resolve and distrust are still apparent, both in her tone and her facial expression. A tilted grin forms on my face in response to her answer. She doesn't seem to want to let Haru go without knowing for sure he's in safe hands. 'Still, though, the persistence is great but I'd rather have this done and over with already' A sigh escapes me.

"I'm bringing him back to his room, you can come with him to make sure he's safe and sound. Sound good?" She nods again after hearing the offer. She turns the car off before shutting both the passenger and driver seat doors close, locking the vehicle and pulling the doors again to make sure it was properly shut. "Let's go" I mutter in my breath before walking back to the casino, the sound of sneakers following not too far from me.

The first few minutes or so was awkward, the sound of TYE Shoemaker and Nike sneakers being the only form of sound to be heard. Neither of us really opted to be the first one to break the silence seeing as there was an apparent distrust between one another.

"So you're a big shot too huh?" A soft question breaks the tension. 'She must have lowered her voice in case Haru wakes up because of it'

"A big shot?" I muttered thoughtfully. "Yeah, just like boss here" she answers in a lighter tone. "Kokonoi-san said he was going to let me meet other big shots like him so that they could approve of me being their valet" she continues "But then you two came out the elevator and the meeting didn't happen, I guess something didn't work out?"

A soft chuckle leaves me as I re-adjust Haru's sitting position. "Something like that" I left it vague on purpose, knowing I can't be too trusting of her when it comes to Bonten’s affairs, especially when she hasn't even gotten the job she got scouted for yet.

A silence falls again during the remaining walk but it wasn't as awkward as it was before which was nice, the walk would only stop every now and again as I would re-adjust Haru to better carry him. She offered to carry him in one instance, essentially guilty for not being any help to the situation, but I had quickly shot her down telling her that I was perfectly fine in doing so. The offer was nice but unneeded.

"This is his floor" I muttered as we stepped out the elevator, after which I went to the front of the door and swiped the card I had on me. The door opened revealing a penthouse whose floor plan was not too different from mine and the others. Lights automatically turning on once it detected motion from us and the air-conditioning following suit.

With help from the woman the bedroom door was opened and I set down Haru on his bed, making sure to take off his coat and shoes at the very least before covering half of him with a blanket.

"Does this happen often?" She asks as she eyes me hanging the other's coat on the recliner. "No, not as much as you think it does" I answer. "If anything it happens very rarely, once in a blue moon even. Nonetheless, I have enough experience to know what to do when the situation ever does happen" I take the remote and adjust the air conditioner to a temperature better suited to combat the weather outside, it seems as though it started raining while we were walking back in the hallways.

She doesn't know it yet, but what she just achieved was a feat not many could do. Haruchiyo was an observant man and paranoid whenever he wasn't under the influence of drugs. Even when sleep-deprived he would have been able to stay awake and alert. Haru was untrusting of others, only ever depending and open to Mikey and a select few of us executives.

' I guess there's a reason why Hajime-san scouted her'

She lets out an understanding hum in response as she continues to keep an eye on Haru laying on the bed, making sure he wasn't uncomfortable in the slightest.

"Has he shown you a room?" I ask her as I fiddle with the cuffs of my dress shirt. "No, not yet". She starts. "He needed a driver to get to Atami Port asap, so I went with him before he could show me one." I nod in response.

"I'll lead you to one, you won't be able to get a key as of tonight though, you'll have to go to the attendant first thing in the morning for that. You can still lock the doors from the inside though so you'll still be given your privacy." She nods in understanding, seemingly able to understand the situation in a timely manner as both of us leave and lock the door on our way out.

I press the elevator a few floors lower than the one we are currently in and lead her to an open hotel room, she seems content enough as it is, more so eyeing the bathroom door and bed.

"Goodnight, Yukioto-san. I'm grateful for the work you've put in tonight". I send my regards to her as she turns to me and bows in appreciation.

"Goodnight, Haitani-san" she stands back up, a faint smile comes to me as I nod back and step out to close the door to the room.

#ran haitani #!employeeoftheyearseries #oc #bonten #sanzu x oc #mikey x oc #ao3 fanfic

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 years

Text

On the other side of the country, Osamu Miya is coming to terms with the fact he may very well be in love.

Which, isn't as easy as he thought it would've been. Whereas Atsumu is falling in love with anyone and everyone who pays any attention to him at all - Osamu has never really fallen in love. Not seriously, anyway. Aside from the occasional, blistering attraction - there's seldom been anything he'd even think to call love.

He never could picture himself so open with anyone. He's only barely open with his sibling, his friends. Osamu Miya isn't lonely, but he's seldom. A couple of nights drinking with friends is enough social interaction to put him in a proverbial deathbed.

So the prospect or logistics of falling in love have always been lost on him. It meant not only meeting someone he liked, opening up to them, but also wanting to spend time with them. He'd never given it much thought beyond a mild "how complicated," and what felt like his entire early twenties without ever once saying the words i love you.

It's always been a delusion of grandeur, in its own right. A busy, working man who helps take care of his mom. Who sleeps on the couch and wakes up too frequently with a crick in his neck. Who plays volleyball to workout, not longing but melancholy at the feeling of a ball in his palms. The question easily becomes who could ever love Osamu Miya?

And then, of course, there is you.

You're not his only regular. Onigiri Miya is a popular business. And his location, as the origin, is accustomed to sizeable patronage. He's been running it long enough to know the locals, their daily lives and faces through counter conversation.

But, you always had something to you. A charming, clumsy, carefree whimsy that made Osamu's heart swell and stretch like. In many ways, Osamu knows you couldn't be more different from him.

You caught his attention without every trying. Bending over your laptop, stressed - but always smiling when he walked by. Even your complaints were laced in gratitude, your huffs imbued with warmth, your heart always tender. You were and still are one beautiful imperfection. A coffee stain on your collared shirt, or spinach in your teeth. Nothing in the world has ever proved to be as charming as that.

You'd made lightwork of worming into his heart. One cup of tea became a phone number, became a date, became sleeping together, became just sleeping in the same bed. Underneath the morning sun, where he'd cooked breakfast in your apartment. In what feels like no time at all (but really happened over the steady span of 8 months) Osamu Miya had steadily opened himself up to you and tried to come to terms with the unfamiliarity of it all.

A partner felt like something Osamu couldn't ever have. A lover. But lately, when Osamu falls asleep on the couch he wakes up with a blanket and neck pillow - he thinks a lover is all it could be. Some weekends he goes drinking with his usual party and takes his prettiest plus one. And Osamu has never once flirted before but the word baby slips so naturally off his tongue lately, he startles himself.

He can only give credit to Atsumu to one thing. He'd made admitting love look so easy.

But, Osamu thinks falling for someone must be the most embarassing thing in the world.

He still hasn't told you yet. That he loves you. He should. He knows he should, but there's something about the whole thing that makes a blush rise into his cheeks. All these useless thoughts. You are his first love, but he isn't yours and he can't help but pointlessly wonder about the gap between you. Since when did it matter so much to him that you hang out with your male co-workers? Since when did he take pictures after getting a haircut and worry about all the grit in his face?

Really, Osamu can't help but wonder if he'd always been so stupidly embarassing about love. Whenever you reassure him with a soft laugh or a tender hand, Osamu thinks that maybe he's always been more of a bumbling fool than he understood. Maybe love makes people a little drunk with it.

And maybe this inexperience is what's making him confront it. You're having a long trip with your girlfriends, he knows.

( "They wanna meet you, Samu. / "I'm nothin' special." / "You are to me")

And it's the first time you've spent more than a week apart. You call Osamu when you can, said he's free to call you when he likes. And he wants too, which is why he's staring down his little device like it's going to reveal a long tombed secret. But something is stopping him, embarrassment like he's never felt in his entire life.

And Osamu is standing at the counter of his restaurant, staring down his cellphone with something turning in his gut. As the realization settles on him with a sudden, unmistakable force. On the other side of the country, far away from you, it hits him.

Osamu has fallen miserably, embarassing in love.

He doesn't have confidence when he hesitantly grabs his phone. Taking his hat off, pressing the call button next to your number, waiting for it to stop ringing.

When it does his breath hitches, his heart stops, and suddenly he thinks it again so suddenly, i love you.

"Hey, 'Samu. I missed you, baby,"

He breathes out.

"Missed you too, sweetheart,"

#osamu x reader #writing tag #haikyuu x reader #arisotle.txt

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hughhowey · 2 years

Text

Pretending to be an Actor -- Take One

My alarm goes off at 4:20am. There's a 6am call for the two hundred of us playing extras on the set of WOOL today. An hour ride to the studio that Apple has built north of London, some COVID testing, waiting for results, and then it's time to get into character.

As someone who loves coming up with new characters (and then killing them off), it was a little wild that I hadn't thought up any backstory -- or even a name -- for the guy I was going to play today. The only thing I knew is that he was going to be a down-deeper. They'd given me the option of that or someone from the Mids, but to me it wasn't a choice. I was a greaser through-and-through.

On my way to hair and makeup, I fall in beside another SA (secondary actor, I think they're called here in the UK). She's complaining about the call time, and I try to act like I'm similarly annoyed. She has no idea how excited I am to be there, that this is an absolute dream for me. She'd probably slap me if she knew I wasn't even getting paid. That I volunteered for this.

A large building behind the studio serves as wardrobe, hair, and makeup for the thousands of SAs who have been a part of season one of WOOL. The changing rooms are chaos, but they've got a little screened-off section I can duck behind to put on ratty old engineer clothes that I tried on last week. I get into my gear (including a rubber hammer in a hoop on my belt) and plop into makeup.

With a few swipes of an electric razor, my unruly hair becomes part mullet part mohawk. Some scars are applied to my forehead and neck -- occupational hazards of working with heavy machinery and around a bunch of short-fused drunks. I like to think Juliette gave me the scar on my forehead. That time she saved my life. I'm eight years older than her, so I would've been twenty when she showed up in Mechanical acting like a know-it-all. I gave her hell at first, figured she'd flake out like all the kids-from-the-mids who rebel against their parents for a few days. But she stuck around. Got the third shift assignment that I thought I was due. But resentment turned grudgingly into respect. People who fix shit down here can win anyone over. She's like a sister to us now. Which makes this day hard on all of us.

We line up outside to be inspected by costume heads. Make sure we look appropriately ratty. You should see us, all together like this. So many interesting faces and haircuts. The same muted palette of colors. You find yourself talking to other SAs about other things they've been on. The guy beside me was on the Bridgerton prequel last week, playing a guard. It takes a few minutes before he tugs on his beard and I realize it isn't real. Nothing feels real about this moment, in fact. I'm blending in with hundreds of people who have zero idea that they are figments of my imagination.

Twelve years ago, I sat at my laptop on a lunch break and wrote the first line of a short story that would go on to become a bestselling novel. A short story about people living underground so long they forgot how they ended up there. As the first fifty or so of us head into the silo that Apple has built north of London, I'm trying to understand how I got here. What in the world led to this.

Set C is a sight to behold. There's a huge column with stairs wrapping around it, and then through a wide oval archway a cafeteria. A large round room with a sweeping wallscreen on the far side.

It really is a wallscreen. Not a piece of blue cloth, but an LED wall that curves and wraps a large slice of the room. The view of the outside world is dismal. A few scraggly trees. A ruined landscape. Some boulders. A gray sky. Hard to tell, but perhaps an old body or two.

A lot of emotions run through me as we rehearse the scene. If they needed me to cry on command, it wouldn't be difficult. I stand in a small group with the cast members who play Shirley, Walker, Deputy Hank, and Knox. We are there to shoot one scene, and it will take us all day.

Hell, it took me all my life.

#WOOL #writing #TV and Film #Books #dreams come true

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lucascsinclairs · 2 years

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I need your honest thoughts on Mike and El's hair, as well as Lucas' and Will's too, since they all changed the most with their hair styles.

This is a great question, anon, I'd love to give my thoughts! I was so happy to finally get a good look at the cast's new s4 looks, since we really didn't get a lot of set pictures this time around, and no set pictures for most of the characters involved in the California plotline. So finally seeing the new looks and hair over the weekend was great, and I definitely have Thoughts. So I guess I could go from worst to best in my opinion?

Okay I'm sorry Mike, you're one of my favourite characters but that hair... Not a fan. The idea of him having longer hair could've worked, but the way they did it, with the weird 2008 style straightened bangs and otherwise wavy hair just looks odd to me. It's also a bummer after having seen Finn promoting the Ghostbusters movie recently with his hair cut shorter and it being curly, why couldn't they just style it like that, it looks much better. So yeah, not his best look unfortunately.

Next up is Will, and I know, I'm also surprised he's not in last place, given his hair's track record. It could just be that compared to his s3 hair that I really didn't like at all, any change is an improvement in my books haha. I'm pretty sure his s3 hair was a wig and it really looks artificial and just so mushroom-shaped. Putting that on Noah again would've just looked beyond ridiculous this time around. So while his s4 shorter bowlcut isn't great or anything, I don't personally think it's that bad in comparison. It looks a bit more natural, like it's actually his hair and not a bowl placed on top of his head. It's not great, but I'm surprisingly fine with it.

Speaking of wigs, next up is El's s4 hair, since I'm pretty sure Millie is wearing a wig this season. I was surprised by the bangs like I think we all were when we first saw them in that short little clip. And though I wasn't sold on them based on just that shot, I didn't think they were too bad. And now after getting a better look at her hair in the teaser, I'm really liking the look on her! It reminds me a bit of the hairstyle of Ali, the love interest in Karate Kid, so it fits the whole 80s high school in California setting. Also everyone has already pointed this out, but it really makes her a look a lot like Joyce, which is really sweet and shows her connection to the Byers family this season, and continues the trend of her being influenced by the people close to her in her appearance. I think she looks really cute!

And leaving the best for last, we have Lucas's awesome new hair in s4! His hair stayed pretty similar across the first three seasons so I'm really happy they are switching it up this time around! And considering the rumored plot of him joining the basketball team and becoming more popular in high school, a changeup like that also makes sense. And from what I've understood from looking up info about it online, it seems like that style of high top fade was a popular trend that started in the mid-to-late 80s, so giving him the haircut is a great nod to the trend of the time. I also read that it was popular among players in the NBA during that time, so it's a perfect fit for Lucas who is joining the basketball team. He looks great, can't wait to see more of s4 Lucas!

#answered #anon #kaisa talks #st4 #st4 hiatus #st hiatus #those are my thoughts on the new hairstyles #mind you my opinions could change when we see more footage of them but this is where i'm at now #i doubt these opinions are super controversial or anything #but let me know your thought on the new s4 hair looks!#and a reminder these are just my opinions and strictly based on just the hairstyles themselves not critiquing the characters or anything

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thecampfirestory · 4 years

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i was actually gonna send this as an ask that's just an idea, but it kinda ended up becoming really long a kinda fic like. soo.... here it is. i hope you enjoy!

So... the night Roman came out, huh? Remus is sneaking back into the house in the middle of the night after hanging out with Dee, but to his surprise, he hears sobbing coming from Roman's room. He's hesitant, him and his twin are still very distant and not too far from hating each other's guts. But there's something about hearing a kid (a teen) crying, knowing you're the only one who can hear them. Remus tries to just move on, but with a sigh, cursing himself under his breath, he decides to go in.

Inside he finds Roman crying on the floor, scissors and a pile of long brown hair next to him. His hair is a mess, not too different from the haircut Dee had given Remus years ago. Remus tries to say something, but all that comes out of his mouth is "uh..." making Roman flinch as he notices his brother, turning to look at him and stifling his sobs. Both stare at each other in a perfect awkward silence, until Roman whispers through sobs: "I-I... I think I'm... like you..."

"Okay" is all Remus can get out, and as the silence continues, Roman can't stop himself from crying again. Remus hears him mumble something about being the last daughter their parents have and not wanting to disappoint them. Remus frowns at this and assures Roman that not only are their parents very accepting, what they think doesn't matter. Roman nods and calms down only a little, and Remus still doesn't know what to do. He looks around awkwardly and then suggests he can help Roman clean up the hair on the floor. They do so, Remus helping Roman stand up, and the contact feels foreign, the last time they touched each other in any other context than fighting neither of them could barely even walk or talk.

Once Roman's old hair is in the trashcan and Roman is sitting in bed, tears drying on his cheeks, Remus asks him "Are you gonna be okay?" and Roman says "yeah" even though he isn't quite sure. Remus leaves only to bring Roman a glass of water a few minutes later. Neither of them say anything about it, and Remus leaves for good, going to his own room to sleep. As he lies in bed, he wonders if he should've done more, but as Roman sips his water, he thinks Remus already did so much more than Roman would've ever expected of him.

OH GOD OH FUCK SHDNJDNDJJDJ