#barber shears

[aichiscissors]

Welcome to No Shave November.

Here are Aichi Scissors to skip the No Shave resolution. Buy our quality scissors for your professional Haircut.

[remcocoa]

[vern-hairdressing-style-college]

❖Two Block Haircut Concept❖ Part the hair into top and bottom sections to cut. Cut the hair shorter at two sides and keep it voluminous on the top₊⁺

It's more suitable for Asian faces than Undercut. Emphasis on overall consistency and the use of hair curves. After cutting, visually elongate the face and the face look smaller. Make the facial features more three-dimensional and stylish✨

[factoryedgesharpening]

Factory Edge Sharpening

Website: https://www.factoryedgesharpening.com

Address: 331 Spyglass CT, Rio Vista, California 94571

Factory Edge Sharpening, owned by Raymond Faria, specializes in professional scissors sharpening services. Catering to beauticians, barbers, and dog groomers, the business offers a range of services including repairing, replacing, and restoring shears and knives. Utilizing Japanese water stone and water-cooled flat hone techniques, Factory Edge Sharpening ensures precise maintenance of both convex and bevel edges. The company also provides mobile sharpening services, a mail-in option, and sells high-quality scissors and accessories.

Yelp: https://www.yelp.com/biz/factory-edge-sharpening-rio-vista

Nextdoor: https://nextdoor.com/city/rio-vista--ca/

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[factoryedgesharpeningus]

Website : https://www.factoryedgesharpening.com

Address : 331 Spyglass CT, Rio Vista, California 94571

Factory Edge Sharpening, owned by Raymond Faria, specializes in professional scissors sharpening services. Catering to beauticians, barbers, and dog groomers, the business offers a range of services including repairing, replacing, and restoring shears and knives. Utilizing Japanese water stone and water-cooled flat hone techniques, Factory Edge Sharpening ensures precise maintenance of both convex and bevel edges. The company also provides mobile sharpening services, a mail-in option, and sells high-quality scissors and accessories.

Yelp : https://www.yelp.com/biz/factory-edge-sharpening-rio-vista

Nextdoor : https://nextdoor.com/city/rio-vista--ca/

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[lizardleech-bogmummy]

Tbh I'm overdue for making a turian lass but I need every character I make to be insane and I'm pouring all of my water that makes you crazy into my fantasy ttrpg NPCs rn

[thesalon1]

Hey TANZŌHASAMI fam! We’ll be at Premiere Anaheim this weekend! Come stop by booth 3656 and check some of our new models! • • • #tanzohasami #scissors #haircuts #haircutting #japanesesteel #scissorwork #precisioncutting #haircutters #scissoreducation #pmtslife #pmts #premiumscissors #sharpscissors #scissortalk #cosmetology #barber #stylisttools #shears #sharpshears #stylist #professionalshears #behindtheshears #cuttingteam #barberteam #handmade #tanzotalks #houseofhasami #straightrazor #razorblades (at Anaheim Convention Center) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqW784ZOKlA/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[shearintegrity]

Posted @withregram • @tokiscissors For the precise cutting with gold Anti- metal allergic shears! We are looking for ambassadors to be the first to try our shears and give honest comments and feedback.If interested, please contact @shearintegrity for a special prelaunch promotional price. #tokiscissors #shearintegrity #tsubame #shears #scissors #barbers #beauticians #shearsharpening #craftsmen #cuttingshears #hairdressingscissors #nycsalon #sohonyc #feelfreetofollowus #新潟県 #燕市 #新潟市 #長岡市 #理美容学生さんと繋がりたい #理美容シザー研ぎ #理美容シザーメンテナンス #理美容シザー販売 #理容師さんと繋がりたい #美容師さんと繋がりたい #安藤グローバルサービス #お気軽にフォローしてください (at Florida, USA) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoLqAFdrUS2/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[gatheringbones]

[“The barbers, on the other hand, were kind. They were prisoners, too, though they’d been trained as cosmetologists for their prison work. They could see my pain. They could feel my body tense, sense how anxious the whole thing made me. I’d freak out every time and start telling the barber that I didn’t want to do this, I couldn’t bear it again. They went slow, talking me through it very carefully. “I know,” they’d say gently. There was no judgment.

They’d get me talking about something else, anything else. Sometimes, they’d wash my hair, to make it feel more like a beauty appointment than a ritual shearing. And each of the barbers made sure, very carefully, that he left my hair at two inches every time—the longest length allowed. One barber asked if he could shape my eyebrows; he said he wanted the practice. And so from then on, he’d thread my brows into a feminine shape, a small thing that made me feel more like the person I knew I was. It touched me deeply.

I wasn’t the only trans person in our housing unit. In late 2013, the dining facility was closed for renovation, and we ate in the gym. Everything was temporarily socially scrambled, our usual table arrangements thrown into chaos. There was a break from territoriality, the usual de facto segregation. A person from the Latinx group sat down next to me and began to talk quietly about my transness. “I feel the same way,” they said. “I have these feelings, and I never got a chance to deal with them.” Not long after, they were transferred to a medium-security facility in Texas. (Texas was a jurisdiction where prisoners couldn’t legally change their names, which meant that a trans person couldn’t do what I’d done in Kansas.)

Most of the prisoners now called me by feminine pronouns and used my last name or called me Chelsea. Even the transphobes at least largely respected me. But there was one guy—white, blond hair, glasses, lanky—who’d been convicted for murdering civilians. He came into the dining facility one day not long after he’d arrived and began needling me about my gender. If this guy thought he was doing something original that was going to cause some kind of fresh pain, he was extremely incorrect. Being an out trans person had quickly thickened my skin. I was surrounded by people who say the meanest possible things to you, so you learn to be twice as hard, and twice as ready to rip someone apart. I went straight back at him. Look at you, you skinny-ass glasses-wearing little general. I wonder how many pencils you’ve broken today. He was momentarily stunned. Everyone else reacted. Oh, I hope you got a sterile dressing for that burn. He was mortified. He had been taken down by a trans girl, and nobody let him forget it.

The other inmates were supportive of my pursuit of gender reassignment, not necessarily because they believed deeply in trans rights, but because compelling the government to allow me to take hormones was fighting back against the prison. A victory for me would be a victory for all prisoners.”]

chelsea manning, from readme.txt

[folkling]

Folkling Save File WIP - Newcrest

I couldn't help myself, I needed a main street somewhere. I found a mod called Shear Brilliance by ItsKatato (adopted my MizoreYukii ), so I'm going to use that to build a barber shop. Also, I found a mod for a functioning tattoo chair and a mod for a functioning tattoo parlor, so you guessed it, I'm building a tattoo parlor. Other businesses on main street will include the movie theatre (pictured), lounge (pictured), a bookstore, a converted fire station turned into apartments, and a bakery.

I'm excited.

[aichiscissors]

With its easy handling and smooth cutting experience, this is the perfect tool for cutting hair. A perfect haircut is made possible by the sharp, tightly fitted blades that provide a perfect fit for light, thin, and thick hair.

[remcocoa]

[vicariousresearcher]

You’re a beautician in training and a bid came to your school to go to the local military base and set up shop to do some hair cuts for the day. 

Hairstylist and college student!Reader. Reader is implied to not be from the UK.

-----

It’s good money. You tell yourself as you set up your station in what looked to be a conference room of sorts. Good practice…..

You can already hear the chattering outside of the door. More voices than you anticipated. Your instructor said it would only be a few but then again you had to drive an hour and a half out to get here and most of these guys might not even have cars. So who knows, maybe you’ll see every damn soul in this place.

Rolling carts filled with scissors, sprays, and clippers with an obnoxious array of guards. Even managed to snag some of the standing mirrors from the makeup studio. All things you’d been allowed to steal from the class studios and jenga into your car for this bid. Your partner next to you seems to catch the pinch between your brows at the sight of the makeshift studio.

“Half of em’ just want to be sheared like sheep. They care more about getting it done than anything pretty.” She reassured you while tossing over a cape to your chair and unfolding her own. “Besides this is 6 practice hours taken care of.”

…….

That was in fact a lie.

It’s been 10 hours and it’s just now slowing down. Your feet hurt, nose hairs are burnt from BO and too strong axe body spray, and your mind slipped into robot mode about 4 hours ago. Between having to play cashier, cleaner, and barber for every guy you take, it’s a long process for even just one client. 

She was right about half the guys wanting to be sheared though. Many buzz cuts of various lengths with most of the others getting a simple crew cut. Your clippers have seen more work today than they’ve ever gotten. Though you prefer that to the guy that has your partner giving him some fuckass mohawk.

You’re wiping down your station when boots click across the conference room's door again. 

The fuck do they keep spawning from?

Your back creaks as you straighten. A placid, tired smile on your face as you greet the man at the door. Tall n’ broad, though that could be used to describe basically every man in this place, with a vaguely awkward look on his face. Welcoming eyes but lips pressed together under that beard. Hands clasping what looked like one of those boonie hats that grandpas wear when fishing. Customer service voice comes in strong as you get him in your chair and are probing for what he wants. Eyes flickering over your new project.

He has surprisingly thick brown hair given the fine wrinkles along his skin,  that's squished down on the top, presumably by the hat in his hands. Hair fluffing out at the nape and asides where it escaped the brim which gave him an oddly boyish look before you raked your fingers through it. 

“It’s been a minute. Just need ya to clean it up for me.” He says, blue eyes catching yours in the mirror as you drape the cape around him.

His accent is pleasant. English as far as you know but with how many accents you’ve heard today you can hear some differences within. You tune out slightly as you start accessing what needs to be done. Barely hearing him asking how your day was.

 Look at that, good hair and manners. 

“Alright. Didn’t think I’d find such a diverse group within a military base of all places.” You reply back a second too late. You can see the way his eyes crinkle a bit in the mirror. Amused almost.

Cute that a bit of tiredness allowed you to look caught off guard from a single question. 

“It’s a rest stop base. Most of us are just waiting to get shipped somewhere else.” He explains as you tilt his head back. Nails scraping over his scalp, a knuckle grazing his ear while you check length. Brain short circuiting when the crown of his head rests against your chest for a second. 

“Yeah? Where are you off to next?” You ask, fingers carding through his hair while spritzing some water to dampen your canvas.  

He hums, words harder to find as he works through the fog you managed to place in his head so easily. The sound rough yet warm in a way that told you you’d be thinking of him even after he leaves.

“Nowhere that’s any better than here.” You didn’t catch the look he gave you through the mirror. Appreciating the dove doing his hair more than he should’ve been. 

…….

After passing him one of the hand held mirrors you pull the cape off of him. Shaking out the clips of hair you took off before folding it. Letting the man-John he told you to call him- come to his own conclusion before you asked any questions. Judging by the pleased look on his face you wouldn’t have to do any touch ups. Though you were tempted to say you forgot to line up the back fully just to feel the nape of his neck in your hands again.

You didn’t have to ask anything as you felt a hand along your waist. Price leaning over in front of you to slide the mirror into its slot in your cart. Tobacco, that’s the smell you’d been trying to figure out this whole session. 

“You did perfect, dove. How much do I owe you?”

The look your partner gives you from her station has you knowing that you guys will be debating if the English use of pet names is cultural or not.

A hard swallow and a polite smile covers over the split second of embarrassment as you lead him over to the cash box.

…….

Undoing the straps around your waist you find a 20£ note tucked within your aprons folds. You have no doubt who it came from.

[vern-hairdressing-style-college]

Side Swept With Wavy Bangs Men Haircut Tutorial - Vern Hairstyles 91 Not only making you handsome but exquisitely handsome😍

Utilizing the hair strand texture to create more layers and three dimensional effects 👍🏻 ̖́-

Softening of the hair ends and control of the volume are just right It's all about precision✨

✂️With Vern Intelligent Combined Scissors, you can achieve this with such ease, delicacy, finesse, and accuracy

Moreover, the hairstyle is non-deformable and easy-managable🌟

[fanaticsnail]

Hair Pulling: Benn Beckman

Birthday Party Masterlist

Word Count: 2,600+

Themes: Benn Beckman x gn!reader, mdni, smut, 18+, NSFW, kink, hair pulling, insertion sex, oral sex, Sub!Beckman x Dom!reader. First-Mate x Barber.

Notes: It is @jintaka-hane's birthday! Happy birthday! I hope you enjoy your beautiful day, and may Beckman getting his hair pulled spark some joy and illuminate your celebration. So much love for you 🖤

Sitting at your workstation, you began rolling and folding the fresh batch of towels you purchased from the town the Red-Force was currently docked at. The fluffy material felt so foreign in your hands after using your well-worn and crusted cloths for your crew for so long. You couldn’t wait to spoil your crewmates with the new fabric, truly relishing in your job when you were not called to arms in defense of your captain, Shanks.

As the crew barber, it was your job to ensure your crewmates kept themselves as neat and tidy as they desired to be. Whether it was maintaining a goatee, some shadowing on their cheeks, a suave manicured lip and chin, or a rugged scruffiness suited to their liking: you were to keep them in perfect order. Haircuts and styling was also in your repertoire, and you wore that title well.

There was only one member of your crew that had yet to seek out your services for himself. Keeping in the quiet, shearing his own cheeks in the morning, neck and chin littered with small nicks and cuts at after a morning scrub in the bathroom, was the broody first mate.

Hunched over the itinerary captain Shanks had curated for their departure, he leaned his hips on the railing with a scowl on his lips.

Placing down the last folded towel, you withdrew your straight razor and leather hanging strop from your satchel. Checking over your blade for any notches or cracks in need of honing, you blow gently on the silver side of the knife. Holding your blade steady, you gently glide the silver along the stretch, conforming to its curvature along the surface with little resistance.

Benn Beckman was a friend to you, truly enjoying your company in the still of the night when the crew slumbered. As first mate, it was his duty to keep his captain and crew safe. He was both the first and last line of defense for the redhead, and often had little time to dilly dally with his crew. In that quiet, you would often recall small moments traveling together on the seas. Your soft laughter marrying his whispered chuckles was music to the crew, putting them at ease while they slumbered.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you were not attracted to him. Sure, your Captain and the Doctor had their charm, but Benn Beckman: first mate and dutiful death dealer was where your eyes found their perch.

Being simply friends, you assumed he would have approached you by now to do your job on his features. Just a quick tidy of his jawline, trimming his graying locks, giving him a treatment for the sea-sprayed ends - but he never did. Not once. Not a single time.

Narrowing your eyes at him and pursing your lips, you examined his recklessness littering his cheeks with drying blood and crusted sores. Almost scowling at it, you were yet to notice the approach of your crewmate taking a seat in your chair.

“Hey Barber, got a spot for me in your station?” Yasopp queries with a smile in every word, “Can I have a quick tidy up?”

“Course you can, Sharpshooter,” you laugh with him, gently brushing off your chair and reaching for one of the freshly rolled towels. “It's what I'm here for. Just a shave, or rerolling your coils?”

“Just a shave for now. The dreads can wait,” he nodded his head and eagerly plonked himself down at your station. “I've never had a shave as near as yours before. Even when it grows back, it's more manageable.”

“Thank you, Yassop. Now just shut your eyes, lay back, and let me do what I need to do on you.”

“Aye, Barber.”

Watching from his position reclining against the wooden panels, Benn Beckman’s lips drew slack. The filter end of his cigarette lay glued to his lips while they parted in awe. Each glide of the blade over Yasopp’s skin coincided with a gentle tug or maneuver of his scalp to guide him to an appropriate repositioning.

“You're doing it again, Becks.”

Shanks plopped himself alongside the railing beside the first mate, giving him a playful tap on the shoulder in the process. Beckman let's put a soft grunt and continues glaring at the scene unfolding in front of him. You were halfway through the shave now, gently holding idle chatter between yourself and Yasopp while you tidy him up.

“I'm not doin’ nothin’, Cap,” Beckman grumbles, taking a hefty drag of his cigarette. Shanks chuckles, following his eyeline and darting his gaze between Yasopp and you together.

“Why don't you just go up and take a seat,” Shanks suggested as if it was the easiest course of action to take for the big guy, “You really messed up your general scruff. Looks like you angered a pather. Go on. After Yasopp, it's your turn.”

Beckman snaps his gaze over towards Shanks at the thought, blaring into him with his darkened eyes filled with rage.

“You know damn well how I feel about my hair gettin’ touched.” Beckman warned him, his voice hardened with a mixture of warning and confession laden within, “I don't want our barber to do it for me, because I know it'll change the way they see me. Don't wanna do it to them.”

“Just focus on something else, Becks.” Shanks offered in a tone of jesting, index and middle fingers on his right hand walking up his forearm, “You know? Not like you haven't thought of ‘em tugging your hair when you're alone in your quarters.”

Beckman sends Shanks a glare that he has only ever seen a handful of times, who in turn raises his hands defensively. With a small chuckle, Shanks backs away from the broody first mate with a playful smirk.

The gray-haired first mate continues to watch you as you finish your work on Yasopp, wiping off the sharpshooter’s face with a towel. Giving him a playful trace of your fingers along his jawline, you send him from your chair and begin to sanitize it for the next use.

Looking over from your point above the deck of the red force, you could've sworn you caught the first mate’s eyes as he gazed over from his recline against the rail. His thumb met the filter end of his cigarette and pressed it in a sizzle within his iron ashtray.

“Beckman?” you gather your courage to call over to him, finally refusing to let this little dance go on any longer, “Come and see me tomorrow, you hear? Need to fix up your razor, and I've got a balm for you to use tonight.”

Benn Beckman freezes in place, a static-like shudder frizzing from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. Without much force, he apprehensively sighs out a little, “Aye, that I will.”

Smiling to yourself, you prepare a cube of solid ointment in a tin for him, hoping the balm would aid in the healing for a closer shave, and to halt any scarring or pore blockages from occurring and getting itchy.

The following day, Benn Beckman found himself in your chair. A dark cape was casually draped around his neck, tucked in a towel and buttoned at his collar. The aroma of aftershaves and foaming cleansers lingered as you massaged his prickly scruff with your fingertips.

He could barely focus on your conversation. Whichever topic that graced past your lips was white noise to him. While he often found himself easily lost in conversation with you, he was now wholeheartedly focussed on one thing, and one thing only.

Trying not to cum.

Your hands so easily maneuver his head around, skilled fingers cleaning up his face and ridding him of his spindles protruding from his chin. In his head, it was an eternal argument as to whether he was to tell you how worked up he was, and how long he had been without coupling with a partner, or simply ignore how you made him feel while wholeheartedly enjoying the experience.

He had been to barbers before, and none of them made him feel this worked up over a simple pampering. Paired with the fact he adored you, and he was lost completely to the feeling of your fingers on his skin.

“You want a trim while I'm at it?” he hears you ask. He hadn't had the heart to decline, sparing both himself and you or his shameful joy at the touch. Instead, he closed his eyes and uttered a soft, “yes,” while his cock twitched against the crotch of his pants.

“You have such pretty hair, Becks,” you compliment him in earnest, reaching for the woven band holding his locks within, “If you don't mind me saying, of course.”

“N-Not at all,” he stuttered out, wincing as your hands dragged down the tight coil and freeing his strands from their confines. You take his small flinch as discomfort, but it could not be further from his experience.

Beckman was trying not to picture how you would look straddling his face, guiding him by those skilled hands. Tugging and pulling harshly to have him pinpoint your bliss, having him consume your ecstasy with his vigorous and unrelenting mouth while you held onto his hair.

Carding your fingers through his salted and peppery strands, you found yourself cooing at the way each fistful felt in your hands. He was so pliant, listening to your wordless directions as you angled him to find an appropriate position. Scissors handled carefully to chop at the damaged ends, you continued humming out your praise at the first mate.

His pulse quickened and breath hitched at the way your words and actions truly moved him.

Where your lips curved out: “Your hair is so volumous, I can't get over how you manage to trap it in that band,” Beckman heard, “Your hair feels perfect in my hands, let me trap you in my lap and fuck you.”

Spilling out gentle praise and manageable instructions: “Move to the side, good job. Just like that, Becks,” Beckman’s mind morphed it into, “Fuck, you’re doing such a good job for me. Keep going, good boy.”

Each roll of his neck guided by a tug to his scalp, his eyes rolled back beneath fluttering lashes. His cock continued to twitch and move against his seams at every motion, everything occuring below the belt against his will. He hated himself for reacting like this, for hearing your voice guide him and move against his skull so easily.

At one more sensual tug, his voice entangled in his jugular and caused him to shudder his jaw. You halted your actions immediately, truly believing you had caused him discomfort.

“I'm sorry. Did I hurt you, big guy?” Your concern was laden in your tone, only aiding in expanding his cock to a pulsating rod to pitch the tent in his pants.

“No, Darlin’, I'm alright,” he uttered with a breathy chuckle to follow, “Just not used to bein’ manhandled like this is all.”

“You're used to being in charge. I get it,” you chuckle down at him playfully, giving his hair a soft tug as you did with the others aboard your ship, “You're in my chair now, sweetheart. Gotta listen close to me, or I might accidentally pull on something I shouldn't.”

Both of you were surprised by the needy whine that fled from Beckman’s throat, your hands fleeing immediately from their grip on his hair and discarding your scissors in the tray beside you. You took a moment to steady yourself, your infatuation rising for him in your gut and swelling in need up to your throat. The way he moaned for you was pornographic, and your mind ran with that to a point where you personally had to halt your job to breathe through the feeling.

Beckman knows there's no disguising it now. He has a kink, and you had inadvertently made yourself subject to it by your actions. His mind was already attempting to accumulate an apology to you, thanking the stars that Shanks had conducted an away mission to enjoy a bar in town himself with the crew.

As you stepped towards him, he immediately drew his eyes to find your own. Expecting you to be peering into his soul, gaze filled with rage at the use of you pulling on his hair and fanning the flames of his lust, he saw your eyes immediately flung to his belt line.

Noticing your eyes draw down to his cock, shrouded by the dark covering laid on his lap, he was unsure as to where your mind found itself wandering.

“Benn Beckman,” you whispered softly, a softness rising in your tone. Reaching for the loose strand dangling over his eye, you tucked it behind your ear and purred at him, “You have a thing for hair-pulling, don't you?”

His apologies jumbled and merged into one large stuttery mess. His cheeks rose in hue and illuminance the longer he attempted to recover from your accusation. Each tumble and stutter he elected to present to you was met with a knowing and teasing look down your nose at him.

“Oh, Becks,” you cooed down at him, scrunching up your nose with a soft light in your eyes, “Is that why you haven't come to see me? Something as simple as a little tug on the ponytail gets you all hot and bothered?”

Beckman’s blush rose higher, his head practically seething with frustrated vapors. Just as he was about to open his mouth to growl at you for your comments, you hushed him with a few simple words.

“If you'd have told me about this earlier, we could've had some fun with it,” you shrugged, eyes immediately thereafter growing wide at your blazen disregard for indescression, “I-I mean, if you like me like that-... I mean… if you don't… I… I didn't-.”

“-Are you done with the cut?” Beckman immediately cut you off, his face no longer glaring with his uncertainty and fury.

“I… well, yes, sir,” you nodded, lips sucked into your mouth to stifle their quiver. Beckman reached up to the collar, tugging at the buttoned seam and releasing the cape from shrouding his broad body.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Just as simply as that conversation began, you found yourself with the broody first mate tangled in his sheets and crying out beneath him. Your legs were over his hips, your entrance stretched and molding to his shape the longer he split you open with his thick shaft. Slow and sultry drags of his cock within your body propelled you to a higher plane of bliss. He huffed and panted in the crease where your shoulder met your neck, whining out as you tugged on his freshly trimmed and manicured ponytail.

His hips grew staggered in their languid thrusts, feeling his enevitable release finally stampeding towards the finish line. Your own need was pooling in the pit of your stomach, swelling up and beginning to bloom in your chest. Your breaths came out in heady pants, and you reigned him towards his unravelment by pulling hard on the back of his hair.

“Cum for me, big boy,” you whisper needily, Beckman’s resolve shattering as he unleashed his pearlescent ropes of thick cum deep within you. Calls of your name on his tongue spur you into your own ecstasy, riding through the coursing waves as he buried himself down to the hilt within you.

Both you and Beckman were once again thankful that Shanks and the remainder of the Red Force crew had left you both in isolation to enjoy exploring Beckman's preference for having his hair pulled.

From then on, he was adamant on having only you shave his cheeks and trim his hair to keep him pretty. Even better were the times you did it naked, his cock nestled deep within you and being told to keep still so you don't make a mess of his handsome features with a straight razor and your scissors.

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🎶Happy birthday to me🎶.

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[inkykeiji]

do you think dabi pre-touya reveal cut his own hair??? i feel like toga might offer to do it for him—his bangs are getting too long, tangling in his eyelashes with each blink, stare obstructed by strands of ink—but he’s so secretive and wary and distrustful that i can’t see him allowing her anywhere near his hair, lest she find some white strands and inevitably start pelting him with questions + clawing for answers,,, which of course runs the risk of raising the interest and intrigue of their fellow members, the league too curious for their own good about the elusive and enigmatic dabi,,,

i just love the idea of him standing in some dingy bathroom, the mirror grimy and cracked, with a pair of barber shears in his hand, just snipping away unevenly at his hair until he thinks it looks somewhat presentable. it’s jagged, but it works, the once soft and fluffy tufts gone brittle and hard from the constant cheap box dye, black still staining the lines of his fingernails and the grooves of his palms. that they don’t ask about, thankfully.

his father’s eyes stare back at him beneath the flickering lightbulb, raw and exposed above the sink. he’s still the prettiest todoroki, even with the scars and the stitches and the rigid spikes of hair.

he’s still the prettiest todoroki, but sometimes he can’t stand the sight of himself, too much todoroki in his face, his voice, his mind. it’s in the way he walks, the way he talks, the way he thinks, recollects, responds. it’s in the way his nose scrunches up and his lips tug down and his brows push together when he’s upset, when he’s offended, when he doesn’t get his way. it’s in the way his eyes observe, glare, absorb, sapphire glinting with judgement or accusation or terror beneath the dim, shivering light, his father’s disapproval, disappointment, staring back at him. it’s in the way he smiles—slightly crazed, never fully happy, never fully natural or real or right, too sharp and stark to be friendly or welcoming.

it’s in every part of him, and no amount of black dye and warped skin and gold metal will ever be able to conceal that.

or so he had thought.

but Daddy hasn’t recognized him—not on the news when he killed snatch, not in the street when he came to collect that godforsaken nomu. little baby shouto hasn’t realized, either, not even when he heard his voice or saw his smile or looked straight into his eyes; his eyes, half-shared. natsuo and fuyumi and mom, none of them have reached out, despite the fact that they’ve undoubtedly seen him, on the television and in the papers and on their social media feeds, scrolled past without a second glance.

there’s so much todoroki in him, but they still aren’t looking.