#mulling over a mullet
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So for my friend @houseofmous birthday, I wanted to give him a doll that was to his tastes but also had a bit of my flair added to it so I mulled it over for a bit.
I had this vintage 1980s Pizzazz doll by Hasbro kicking about with a stained mouth, (everybody is so creative) which took several weeks of destaining but after that, I realised the factory paint was…. not my taste so I wiped her.
There is a prototype Pizzazz that was slated for release in 1988 that was going to have a new headsculpt and new makeup so, while I couldn't exactly get Pizzazz a new sculpt I figured I would try painting her eyes to have that makeup.
Since her makeup was white heavy, I thought that it would be fun to incorporate this Glow in the Dark hair as I really hated the mullet she had and figured replacing her short hair portion would make her really unique.
While I did try to copy the style of her 1988 prototype makeup, I couldn't resist adding a few of my own flourishes to her so she's not an exact replica but rather how I ncould bring out the sculpt's beauty.
For my very first vintage Jem doll custom I'm incredibly proud of how she turned out and it has ripped the bandaid of doing other vintage Jem customs for me.
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Needles & Pins: Tattoo Artist! Ezra x F!reader w/Cee
A/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! Thank you, Mayor El, for planting this seed. I am currently mulling over a tattoo much like the one described here.
Warnings: Angst. Talk about failed marriage. Reader is an empty nester. Reader has grown children. Mentions of self harm scars. Blood. I have tattoos but it's been decades and I've done a bit of research to figure out the current state of it. Any inaccuracies are on me. And yes, Pedro's red devil Met Gala look was my inspiration for tattoo artist! Ez.
A bit of flirting. It is Ezra after all. But mostly gentle fluff.
A chain of bells on the door jingles as you push your way through, briefly glare-blind from the sudden dimness, green afterimages from the sizzling sidewalks, air-conditioned cold hits hard, and you stand, blinking and foolish as the girl behind the counter sizes you up, wild mullet of bleach-blonde hair, face set and disproving, black lacquered nails and ears spangled with golden studs and bars. “I’m sorry— I’m a bit early, I can come back—“ And she smiles, big and open and wide-- “Oh, heck! You’re the tardigrade lady! Ez did a bunch of sketches. Lemme go grab him-“ and she rattles her way through the beaded curtain behind the register and disappears “Ezra! Your three o’clock is here—“ A co-worker had recommended Needles & Pins when you’d admired her ink, a half-sleeve magpie with a skeleton key in its beak and constellations drawn behind it like an old map. It’s in Secret Springs. That’s kind of a haul. Yeah, but Ezra’s one of the best in the business. You’ve got plenty of PTO piled up. You’re just gonna lose it if you don’t use it. You could get out of here for a bit. Yeah, maybe. And Moira gives you a pitying look. You both know the chances of you using any of that PTO are slim. This last year and change has been a rollercoaster ride, your youngest graduating summa cum laude and fucking off halfway across the country, some job at an aerospace start up that you can’t even begin to understand, but she seems happy, and the vice-gripped, duct taped, cobbled together thing that your marriage had become finally shat out. I love you, he’d said, but not the way you need me to. And on that humid night, watching heat-lightning flicker through the clouds, you say nothing, just nod, because he’s not wrong, the two of you have been holding on for a long time, for the kids, for appearances, and it’s like unclenching a fist. Kept it civil, he let you keep the house rather than selling it and splitting the difference, moved back home with his brothers and his dad, still talk about once a week, mostly about Lilly and the boys. Married so young that you never learned to be alone. So you throw yourself into your job, because if there’s one thing you know how to do it’s press your shoulder to the wheel and shove.You and Moira laugh together, but when you get home you start researching Needles and Pins and Secret Springs, tiny state park with campsites and trails, bracketed with BNB’s and small shops, strange gerrymandered artifact, small strip of beach that hasn’t been subsumed by hotel chains and timeshares. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been on vacation, the last time you’ve done anything for you and no one else, and you’ve e-mailed Needles and Pins almost without thinking. Why not? Why the fuck not?
Appointments only. No walk ins. High end. Serious inquiries only. And part of you balked, new to this possibility, had your ears pierced at Claire’s when you were twelve or so, and you’d felt stupid when you sent the e-mail off with some images attached. Sorry to bother you. What a lovely idea. Water bears and fireweed together speak of resilience. The awakening of something new after a time of trial. There are species of pine that require the heat of wildfire to dry out their cones enough to spread their seeds. I would gladly meet with you to discuss this further. And that’s how you ended up here, in this air-conditioned cave, narrow space full of framed flash art and old maps and framed photos of Ezra and the girl behind the counter, C? Sea? You didn’t quite register her name, flustered by the cool dark in contrast to the blazing heat outside. “No need to yell, Birdie, I’m comin-“ Ezra rattles through the curtain. Broad is the first thing you notice, loud is the second. He is a confusion of color, heavily inked arms and a Hawaiian shirt bedecked with flamingos in sunglasses, spangled ears and a gold ring through his lip, bright shock of blonde hair amid his unruly curls. Smiling bright and wide, “Hi there,” he says, purred southern drawl, and offers his hand, “I’m Ezra.” “I figured,” you say and take his hand, warm fingers around yours and then he folds his other hand over yours, and you see that his right hand is an elaborate prosthetic, his whole arm up to his shoulder, gold on black, a fearsome dragon framed in blooming orchids. You barely have time to register this and Ezra is ushering you through the curtain. “I am guessing by your demeanor that this is your first tattoo,” and you smile, but can’t quite meet his eyes, his hand finds yours again and squeezes gently. “I’ve got several sketches based on our initial discussion, but i want you to know up front, if the art is not to your liking or if you change your mind about this entire venture I’ll not judge you for it. “But the deposit—“ “A formality. Tends to keep people who aren’t sure of themselves away. I will never ink someone who isn’t fully committed, if you decide this isn’t for you i will refund you. No harm no foul. No pressure, clear?” “Yeah. We’re clear.” Ezra smiles, dimples sinking into his scruffy cheeks, eyes crinkling into crescents. “Excellent,” he says, “Let me show you what me and Cee came up with.”
“That one.” A tardigrade drawn in the traditional style, brilliantly colored in blues and greens with bold outlines, with two crossed fireweed fronds in watercolor. “This is an approximation-“ says Ezra, “I will replicate the colors as best I can—“ “That one.” You say, “I like the hard and soft together.” “I do as well,” says Ezra, “I must admit that I was hoping you’d choose this design. Strength and softness are not mutually exclusive. I should warn you though. Watercolor tattoos tend to fade a bit faster than the more traditional styles-“ “Sunscreen and plenty of it” you say, and he smiles. “That’s right, and A&D ointment as you heal. There’s plenty of fancy tattoo healing ointments to be found but A&D has always got me through. Why fix what’s not broken? We’ll send you home with some instructions.” He takes the sketch you’ve picked out, “Hey, Cee! Can you finagle the scanner-“ Cee pops her head and arm through the beaded curtain. She grins, devilish and sharp like a crescent moon. “Old man, still can’t figure it out, huh?” Takes the sketch from his hand. “Oi! You are but a humble apprentice,” says Ezra, but he smiles, “An initiate! A novice even!” Cee smiles back. This seems like an exchange that happens at least three times a week, and you feel yourself smiling along with them. “Get her prepped. I’ll do the hard part.” “That girl,” he mutters, “You take a seat right there—“ He gestures towards a set up that looks uncomfortably like a dentist’s chair, “Cee has my station set up, I just need to glove up and we’ll talk placement.” “Left inner arm,” You frown. You’d said so over e-mail. Can’t help but watch the flex and bend of him as he pulls a shoulder length veterinary glove over his prosthetic, and then gloves his left hand, “It’s a bitch to take apart and sanitize. I can if needs be, but best to avoid all of that. I cannot exactly autoclave this thing. And I find the calving glove less unwieldy than Saran Wrap-“ “Wait a sec, Saran Wrap? Like on a plate of leftovers?” Ezra dimples at you. “Exactly like that. First time Cee witnessed it, she laughed so hard i thought she might drop dead right there on the spot. Next morning there was a case-pack of calving gloves on our front stoop like some sort of-“ “It’s Amazon, Ez, not witchcraft,” says Cee, popping back through the curtain with a sheaf of papers, shoots you a knowing can you believe this guy look, “You’d be lost without me. Just admit it.” Ezra takes the papers from her. “Go on now, don’t you have fanfic to read? What’s that Star Wars thing? Reylo?” Cee’s face scrunches in a cartoonish display of disgust. “Man, I never should’ve told you about AO3.” And with that she’s gone. “Your daughter’s really something.” “She ain’t mine,” says Ezra, leafing through the stack of prints Cee handed him, draws a pair of reading glasses from his front pocket and perches them on his nose, “I don’t have that honor. Her parents kicked her from the nest and she found her way here.” He holds two of the prints in front of his face. “Show me your arm.” And you offer him your left arm, hand turned palm up. He cradles your arm, runs his gloved fingers over the thin skin there, noting the network of silvered scars, like contrails in a hazy sky, because how can he not? Old enough to be flattened and flush with the rest of your skin, no one’s noticed in years, but you know he must and you tense, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t, just selects a printed sheet at holds it up to you arm. “This the orientation you want?” “Yeah, I want him standing on my hand. Um, Ezra, the scars-“ “won’t be a problem, darlin, they’re old and soft-“ “I’m not gonna screw up your handiwork,” you say, and he folds your hand in both of his, gentle pressure that grounds you and when you look up at him, his eyes are soft. “I know you won’t,” he says, “You wouldn’t be here otherwise. We can rewrite this part of your story. I trust you.”
Ezra preps your skin, alcohol wipes and mild soap and he shaves your inner arm with a disposable razor, rubs some gooey stuff on you that makes you think of putting on aloe after a burn. Gotta let this dry a beat, he says, we want the stencil to come out nice and clean, rests his hand over yours while the transfer solution dries, got to let it get tacky, he says. Not quite holding your hand but not letting go either. “I should warn you, the bit over your inner wrist will likely be the most painful,” swipes his hand over your skin, testing the resistance against his glove, “Skin’s thin there. Not a whole lot of meat between the skin and all the veins and little fiddly bits.” “Fiddly bits,” you echo, and feel yourself smile, “You mean the bones?” “And tendons,” says Ezra, clips out the stencil. “That looks like carbon paper,” you say, and Ezra grins, “It’s functionally the same, but Cee insists that the thermographic printer makes cleaner stencils than the old methods, so here we are.” He lays the sheet of paper over your arm, rubs at it with a balled up paper towel, “We want the transfer solution to soak into the paper. It’ll leave the stencil behind on your skin. There’s some tricks involving deodorant, but i find this method works the best-“ you can’t help but notice how pretty he is, face pinched in concentration, pout of his lips, those dark eyes focused on the strip of skin between your wrist and elbow like this bit of you is the only thing in the universe. “—hey! you still with me?” “Yeah, sorry. What did you say?” “You got a hotel room for tonight? It’s not by business, but i know you’re not local and getting tattooed blows a surprising amount of adrenaline-“ “I’ve got a room booked,” you say, “Up over Peli’s.” “Hope you brought earplugs,” says Ezra, “That place can get a bit rowdy on a Friday night.” “I’m counting on it,” you say, “It’s been forever since I’ve gone to a bar.” “Hmm,” he rubs at the transfer paper, “Do you feel your skin tightening a bit? We should be just about ready. I’m gonna click the gun on for a beat so you can hear it.” “I’m not scared.” “Didn’t say you were.” says Ezra, “I find this tends to go easier if people know what to expect. This buzz and my endless yap are going to be filling your ears for the next few hours-“ “It’s not bad. The tattoo machine, I mean.” And Ezra grins, slow curve that just hints at a dimple. “My Ma always said my tongue is hung in the middle and wags at both ends. If, at any point in this venture, you need me to shut the fuck up do not be shy in saying so,” his face falls, eyes flick away a little, “There’s one more thing before we peel this stencil and get on to our business. I will need to stretch your skin, to make sure the lines are nice and clean, and for that i must rely on this foolish thing.” Ezra catches you around your wrist with his prosthetic hand and squeezes slightly. “I do not have the sensitivity nor dexterity that i once had,” he says, “I have some haptic feedback, but it’s not the most reliable. If I grip or pinch too hard, you sing out and I will manually adjust the pressure.” So focused on your left inner wrist and the tracery of your skin that he startles, flinches when you reach for him and grip his upper arm, brief squeeze and then gone. “I trust you.” His eyes widen for a second, and flick away from yours. ‘I suppose you do. Else you wouldn’t be here. Let’s get a good look at these lines before we get to fencin’.” Ezra peels the transfer paper up and you feel the pull of it, dark purple lines printed on your inner arm. And that makes it feel real.
You’re going to walk out of here with something like a story in your skin forever. “The fireweed—“ “I know. The stencil lines are just there to keep me from going too loosey-goosey,” says Ezra, “That being said, how would you feel about some slight splatters? So the stems do not rise so harshly from the water bear’s back, perhaps a bit darker than the color of the fireweed. Something to really make this little fella pop.” “Dark. Like a dark purple fading up into the pinks.” “Yeah? What do you think?” “I like it,” you say, and you feel yourself grin wide, and Ezra’s smile mirrors your own, “This is gonna be so fucking cool.” “It will,” he says, those dark eyes bracketed in delighted crinkles, “I’ve got you, darlin. We’re gonna make some magic.”
It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, and you tell Ezra so, and he smiles, bent over your arm. “Everyone’s pain threshold is a bit different,” he says, “You are squirming very little for your first ink.”’ “I was in labor with my oldest for twenty three hours. This doesn’t even register.” “The linework is usually worse in terms of sharp pain,” he says, “The color and shading tend to be more persistently annoying. Like a shirt collar rubbing on a sunburn.” He has a light on a swing arm like a dentist uses, framing him in a bright halo as he hunches over your arm, catches his curls in bright filaments, the scruff of his cheeks, slope of his neck, breadth of his shoulders. Sharper pain as he touches the crease between wrist and hand, bracelets of fortune, you think they’re called, draw your breath in a sharp hiss, little hooked curves of the tardigrade’s claws. “Breathe, sugar, you’re doing just fine. Worst part’s nearly done.” His eyes flick up to catch yours, warm soft and magnified by his glasses. “And I really must know. what’s your favorite dinosaur?” “Deinonychus,” you answer unthinking, “Dromeosaurs are pretty cool in general, but Deinonychus is my favorite.” And you smile. Knowing exactly what he’s doing and thankful for it. “The raptors in Jurassic Park were actually Deinonychuses. Modeled on them at least. Actual velociraptors are turkey-sized.” Ezra smiles up at you, perfect plump lower lip bisected by a gold ring, damn he’s pretty, and nothing hurts at all. “Huh,” he says, “And here I was thinkin you were a T-rex girl. S’pose that’s what i get for making assumptions.” “Well you know what they say about assuming—“ “Indeed I do. My mother was very fond of whipping out that particular turn of phrase.” He stretches your skin so he can get the tardigrade’s odd little mouthparts just so. “What’s your favorite?” “Favorite what?” The curved, segmented back takes shape. “Dinosaur. You can’t just ask someone that question and not answer it yourself.” Ezra stills for a beat, and then the needle starts up again, line sloping down to meet up with a hook-plated foot. “Ankylosaurus.” he says. “Really?” “Sure. Mother Nature took a cow, a snapping turtle and a panzer tank and stuck em in a blender and then tied a cinderblock to the end of it’s tail. What’s not to love? Hmmm,” he swabs at the beaded blood and oozing ink, “Hard part’s done. How about a little breather?” Ezra stands and stretches like a lazy cat, rolls his neck side to side, heads for the refrigerator, tucked in the corner and plastered in stickers, punk bands or microbreweries, you can’t really tell. “Stretch your legs,” he says, “This next phase will take some time.” You swing your legs over the side of the chair, stand up and then plop back down. “You okay, darlin?” “Stood up too fast.” “Apple or orange?” “Huh? Orange,” You feel your face going hot, “I followed your instructions—“ Ezra hands you a cold, sweating bottle of orange juice. “I know you did,” he says, “When you get tattooed, you are signing up for an injury. One that happens over the course of several hours, but an injury all the same. Everyone reacts a little different. Your sugar just dropped is all. You drink that juice and you’ll be right as rain in no time at all.” “I thought I’d be okay-“ “And you are,” says Ezra, “I’ve had three hundred pound bikers slither out of the chair at the first sight of blood. It happens sometimes. I’ve gotten woozy a time or two myself.”
He shoves up his shirtsleeve and shows you a dog in a space helmet, “That’s Laika,” you say. “Patron Saint of one way trips,” says Ezra, “You can see a bit of wobble in the curve of her helmet. It was far from my first ink and it still hurt like a sonofabitch. You didn’t do a thing wrong, okay?” He rests his hand on your shoulder briefly, warm weight of it grounds you, and he hunkers down so his eyes meet yours, no judgement there, just concern, and without thinking, you mirror him, rest a hand on his vibrantly inked bicep, Laika brave and doomed amid a swirl of watercolored nebulae, his skin warm beneath your palm and you feel the breath rush out of you, didn’t know how hard you were clenching your jaw, didn’t know you tight your chest was. “Thank you.” And for a beat those lovely, dark eyes hold yours, before they slide away, cheek curved up in a half-smile. “You are most welcome. Shall we proceed?”
The color inking goes much as he described, more annoying than painful, like a constant pressing of fingernails against your skin, different gun with more needles packed together, ink laid in, blood wiped away, back and forth over the same bits of skin, needles dipped and rinsed, tiny plastic cups of color that make you think of a child’s paint set, and the two of you settle into easy conversation, a flow back and forth like a gentle tide, mostly Ezra explaining all the hidden delights of Secret Springs, you simply must get breakfast at Cisco’s, it don’t look like much but they’ve got the best biscuits and gravy i’ve ever tasted, and Cee swears by their Hangover Helper, it’s like a layer dip of grease. Hash browns and corned beef hash and scrambled eggs with sausage gravy and cheese sprinkled over it. I keep tellin Frankie he should rename it the Heart Attack Platter, but he won’t hear it— Ezra’s voice and the buzz of the tattoo gun and the rhythm of him pressing into your skin and wiping away the blood and excess ink set you drifting, content to listen to him ramble, like the patter of falling rain. “So what got you here?” asks Ezra. “Moira. I saw her ink and asked—“ “No, darlin, what got you here?” And you find it hard to speak, to put into words, did everything right, married and had kids and a house and a good job and a husband who loved you until he didn’t, did everything right and still ended up with an empty house and no one to come home to except the cat. Lilly and Liam and Joey off on their own and settled and they all call you on Sunday like clockwork, as if you are an obligation and not someone who held them when they were small, talked them through the fears of monsters in the closet, talked them through the humiliation of first love, you know they love you, they tell you every time, at the end of every visit, hug you so tight and tell you they love you. Love you too, but you still come home to a dark house and an empty bed, you honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve been touched or kissed or held. Been so long since you did things for you without thinking of him and the kids that it feels wrong, shameful. “I wanted to do something just for me, I guess.” You frown. “I’m guessing you are not in the habit,” he says, “Of doing things just for the joy of it.” You laugh, a bright and brittle sound that pulls itself from your throat, even as your eyes burn, his eyes flick up from the brilliant pinks and oranges and purples, and you turn your head away. “I’ve prodded a raw nerve, I’m sorry. Cee rightly says I have no filter-“ “It’s okay. It’s just…you do everything right and you still end up all alone, you know? Lil and the boys are all doing fine. They call me every Sunday, and I know I should be happy, and I am happy. Happy for them-“ “But not for yourself,” says Ezra. And you think of how the intimacy slowly bled out of your marriage, held on so tight for so long, thought you could muscle through it like you do everything else in your life, but love wasn’t enough, determination wasn’t enough, gritted teeth and stubbornness weren’t enough. “No. Not for myself.” You frown. You haven’t put it in words before, too busy keeping it together, trying to gut through it like you do everything, keep your head down and push through, “You think your life is one thing and then it just isn’t anymore— this probably seems silly to you.” “Not at all. I often think of cicadas,” he says, and returns his attention to the fireweed blossoms. “Cicadas?” “Yes. They live the majority of their lives under the ground, feasting on roots content with living in the dark and then something calls them up above. They split themselves open, crawl out of their old skins and take flight.” “You’re saying I’m in the process of crawling out of my own skin,” you say. “I’m saying that your future doesn’t have to look like your past,” says Ezra.
“The past is another country,” you say, and you can’t remember where you’ve heard the phrase. “Just so,” says Ezra, “Just so. We’re redrawing the map right here. And it is a joy to redraw it with you.” “Are you—are you flirting with me?” Ezra scrunches his face in mock disdain, “I would never ever flirt with a client. That would be deeply unethical and Cee would undoubtedly yell at me. However, once I finish inking this last frond and we slather you in ointment and wrap you up you will no longer be my client-“ “And then?” He smiles at you, all dark eyes and dimples. “Well then we are just two folks enjoying the moonlight and wetting our toes in the surf. If you’d walk with me a spell. If you can further tolerate my rambling,” “I think I’d like to get my feet wet.”
#secretsprings#secret springs#tattoo artist!ezra x f!reader#tattoo artist!ezra x mature reader#ezra prospect x f!reader
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Would love if you want to share any snippets from Have You Noticed You Are Breathing? or any other whumptober offerings or anything in general you want to share!
You are an absolute star and your company in my sulking in a wetherspoons is much appreciated! Putting this under a break because it long!
Have You Noticed is coming ... slowly. The next chapter is a big one with Jamie's first war room meeting about his dad's case and then a therapy session with the newly returned Doc Sharon. So it's mulling about in my brain about how to do it justice. So instead of course am writing the much cuter chapter 9 lol, so here's a little snippet (I'll format when not on my phone)
"I'll never get this English obsession with not finishing a sport properly." "I'll take you to the Oval before you leave. See the Ashes. Get you a banana costume and everything," Jamie murmurs without really thinking and sees Ted nearly fall off his chair in shock. "Jeepers Jay, spare this old man the medical bills and announce yourself next time. Could've killed me," Ted gasped and clutched at his chest. "No medical bills in the UK boss," Beard correct and Ted waved at him dismissively.
Then in terms of whumptober I've just had a kick of inspiration for a fill for Day 19 (prompt Psychological) and so banging that out hopefully by the weekend. Here's what I've written so far ...
Roy would never admit any of this to Jamie as long as he lived and his sister had sworn on her free weekends that she would take it to her grave as well. It was the most embarrassing thing that Roy had ever done and he once had a mullet and did an advert for a Latvian stock trading website in a leopard print suit. This may all sound like an over reaction and yes he did tell Jamie everything but not this. This would be the thing that severed the tentative peace of friendship between them ... but dear god did it come in handy. It all started after the Jamie Tartt Homecoming Meltdown.
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Mull-it over…. Do you opt for this comic book villain of the week, Mullet Mayhem….
#Mull it Mullet#It's a kinda magic (mullet)#Crimson Criminal#The devil is in the detail#Super villain standoff
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Did you miss my terrible pun - “mull it over”
A good few years ago, I read an article in my dream…since then, I’ve been entirely unable to. When there’s something to read, I always try to knowing I did that one time…but it all becomes blurred. I’m envious…how much can you read?
The thing I can do, which happened in the dream last night, is remember a route - however convoluted - despite it being a product of my mind. This has been happening more and more…especially in off-key or post-apocalyptic dreams where I have to lead someone or some people through the turmoil to ‘safety’…
I wonder why I changed into a girl. I’ve had a series of dreams where I was a killer and I’d jump into different bodies in each dream, but that’s different…and they were all male.
Mullet…micro-bangs…flip a coin. Or get a combination.
no i understood it lol i just ignored it (sorry). i read a lot in my dreams i read entire text message paragraphs i do whole hsc papers i play scattergories in my dreams idk why lol,
that’s so interesting about u remembering a route in ur dreams i feel like the one thing i can’t do in dreams is go back the way i came, sometimes i can remember places in my dreams but i can’t remember how to get back to them if that makes sense.
also i remembered the reference photo for the hair i wanted..
this was it ^^^ i don’t think i could pull if off.. who knows… one day
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I was mulling over why peepaw Leo is a thing but Mikey isn't (I get it - he looks like a dollar bin Yoda) when I actually thought up of the funniest comic. I might actually commission someone I know to draw it (they love to draw, they love the turtles and they love pocket money so it's a win win) but hear me out -
Mikey actually had a glorious head of hair, he typically keeps it in a loose top knot/man bun style. but looney tunes style explosion happens and he's met with just the edges, frayed ends and all. Leo laughs his ass off because it's comically af and suggests Mikey just shaves it so it all grows back, Mikey insists on keeping it because he's going to rock the best mullet new earth has seen..
Only to have to self sacrifice himself like a week later.
#I just can't believe they did my boy dirty like that#Mikey would never#Rottmnt#Mikey#Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles#Tmnt 2018
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ICYMI: The best social media moments from the Australian Grand Prix
It was a tremendous Australian Grand Prix weekend, with plenty of action to keep us all entertained over the weekend – both on and off-track. With so much going on, to clue you in on what you may have missed out on, we’ve rounded up the best social media from the weekend. From grandma... with love Melbourne native Oscar Piastri and his McLaren team received plenty of support at the track over the weekend. But without doubt Piastri’s biggest supporter was his grandma, who even provided the team with baked goods. How nice is that? READ MORE: ‘The hard work is paying off’ – Norris encouraged by McLaren’s ‘best weekend so far’ after breaking duck in Australia K-Mag makes a furry friend The weekend did not end in the way Kevin Magnussen would have been hoping for, but on the plus side, at least he made a new canine friend called Snowy, from Assistance Dogs Australia. READ MORE: ‘I didn’t even feel it’ says Magnussen of dramatic race-ending crash in Melbourne Mull-stappen? Valtteri Bottas’s mullet has caught the eye of many in the paddock this season, and one of those people appears to be Max Verstappen, who wanted to see what it would look like on him. Hulk and Haas embrace The Hulk is back in the points. The German took the chequered flag in seventh at this weekend's race in Melbourne, and in a video captured by Haas, you can see him being congratulated by members of the team, including his boss Guenther Steiner. READ MORE: Stewards dismiss Haas protest over provisional results of Australian Grand Prix Mercedes NSYNC George Russell has clearly aced the Mercedes crash course in posing for pictures since joining the team, because he and Lewis Hamilton are clearly in lock step here. READ MORE: Hamilton hails ‘amazing’ Melbourne podium as he says Mercedes closing gap to Red Bull will be ‘tough but not impossible’ The Great Alpine Debate There was a huge disagreement at Alpine this weekend – and it has created plenty of debate in the paddock. Esteban Ocon and Pierre Gasly did not agree with reserve driver Jack Doohan's views about overcooking your meat. All the carnivores out there: where do you stand on this issue? READ MORE: 'No hard feelings' – Alpine pair Gasly and Ocon reflect on their race-ending collision in Melbourne Huuuuuuuulkenberg gets a message We got to see Daniel Ricciardo back in the paddock this weekend, and he was up to his usual tricks. The Australian made a brief appearance on Haas’s Twitter feed, delivering a message to his former Renault team mate. Nyck Debris is back A part of Nyck De Vries's engine cover came off his car during practice in Melbourne, and AlphaTauri took the unmissable opportunity to remind the world of the nickname Carlos Sainz unknowingly gave him in Mexico last season... MUST-SEE: Chaos in late restart as numerous drivers collide at the end of the 2023 Australian Grand Prix Aston Martin's hit number one single With three podiums to start the season, Aston Martin have created a song in tribute to driver Fernando Alonso. Listen below and see if you can learn the lyrics. READ MORE: Alonso reflects on 'rollercoaster of emotions' race as he takes third place in Melbourne Stella embraces Piastri Piastri, no doubt fuelled by his grandmother's baking, took his first Formula 1 points this weekend, and as a reward, he received a warm embrace from his McLaren Team Principal, Andrea Stella. READ MORE: ‘What better place to do it’ – Piastri thrilled after charging his way to maiden F1 points finish on home soil A five star Albert Park review His race may have ended in the barrier, but Alex Albon was absolutely brilliant in qualifying on Saturday. So happy with his performance, it was only right that the Thai racer left a good review about the Albert Park Circuit. via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com
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What if I got a mullet
#like a lesbian one with lots of Hairspray#I’ve been mulling it over and I might devolve from the undercut into mullet
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https://bradshawsbaby.tumblr.com/post/688690694649511936/every-day-that-i-wake-up-not-living-in-san-diego
Same 🥲🥲 I have a two page outline due in 12 hours. I’m gonna attempt to do it while at work. I’m gonna reward myself with your fics (after each paragraph I can reread on of your stories 😆😆) and watch a little bit of Spiderhead. Since I can’t rewatch Top Gun: Maverick today and see Mr Bradley Rooster Bradshaw this is the best I can do. Even though Miles Teller won’t have the iconic mustache 👀 - 🔔
You’re seriously too cute!
Though Miles doesn’t have the iconic mustache in Spiderhead, he does have an iconic baby mullet (words I never thought I’d hear myself saying) 👀
He’s very sexy in that movie, so it’s definitely not a bad choice! Someone actually just asked me if I would ever consider writing something for his character in Spiderhead and I’ve been mulling it over ever since 🤔
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CONGRATS ON 100 AND HERE'S TO MANY MORE!!
I would love a scenario with Eren and Jean 💕 NSFW and not a sugar baby.. tysm!! Love this event 💕
Hi Brooke, thank you so much! I’m happy to tell you about your raunchy, daring movie date with Eren and Jean! Enjoy ♡
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You immediately knew you were going to have a great night. The men that approached you under the awning of the movie theater were fucking handsome. How did you get so lucky?
The brunet, sporting a lazy bun, wearing a slate blue button up shirt and khaki slacks had his hands tucked into his pockets, while the taller ashy-mulleted man wore a black turtleneck and dark wash jeans, his arms loose at his sides, but fingers fidgeting nervously, stepped up to you with smiles on their faces.
“Hi,” you squeaked, pushing yourself away from leaning on the wall. “It’s good to meet you guys.” You hugged both of them, struggling not to moan from their mouth-watering scents.
“You, too.” Eren grinned, looking down at you.
You had met them in an online chat room, bonding over your favorite movie franchise, of which you were about to see its newest release.
Jean leaned down and left a kiss on your cheek, smiling at you as you blushed. “You’re more beautiful in person than your profile picture leads you to be.”
“Oh, stop it,” you laughed as your blush deepened.
“Shall we?” Eren chuckled, holding his elbow out to you.
You nodded eagerly and gladly accepted his arm, linking your hand around it and walking with them to the ticket window.
Once your tickets were in-hand, the three of you stood at the snack counter, mulling over the menu before settling on the idea of sharing a bucket of popcorn, three different candies dished out between the lot of you, and each having your own soft drink.
You were giddy at the daydream that somehow all three of you would be reaching for the popcorn at the same time, fingers and palms bumping in the warm, buttery snack only to lead to fits of shy laughter.
Pulling yourself from your imagination, you followed them into the theater room and picked a row of seats slightly in the middle of the room.
Patrons poured in, less than you’d expected for such a highly popular film to draw in, but enough that they could comfortably scatter and find their own areas to watch the movie in peace.
You sat yourself between the men, looking between both of them with an excited smile on your face.
“Aren’t you going to get cold?” Jean asked, pointing at your outfit of denim shorts and a plain tank top.
“Oh, I’ll be fine.” You waved your hand passively and sat upright as the lights dimmed and the movie credits began to roll.
You’d seen these same credits many times, being reused for other movies that were shown in the theater, which you frequented.
Once the movie finally started, you popped some of your candy into your mouth, chewing the delicious, sugary treat.
The movie was already incredible—you knew your chat room was going to hold fun discussions about it, the action of it obviously catered to a high budget from the producers. The dry humor was a nice touch to the film, usually putting a smile on your face and giggle on your tongue.
Your words came to bite you in the ass—you were suddenly not fine, the theater’s chilling air conditioner now lapping your skin, throwing goosebumps over your body.
It was as if the men read your mind that you were suddenly cold—Eren’s arm draped around your shoulders, scooting closer to you as he did so. Jean rested a large hand on your thigh, the warmth of his skin radiating over your leg.
This felt so wonderful, having both of these men at your sides. You could make snide comments with them, judging cheesy parts of the movie and pointing out things that you liked and characters where you swore you recognized the actor from another movie or show, but couldn’t quite put your finger on it.
Speaking of fingers—Jean’s were trailing up your thigh, leaving little paths of heat as he circled your skin, drawing patterns with his fingertips.
It was a lovely feeling, something you enjoyed greatly, and wow, he was good at it. What you weren’t ready for was when his fingers found their way further up your thigh, dipping inwards and pinching the fat of your leg.
You squeaked and your thighs twitched open as you turned to look at him.
“Jean!” You chided in a harsh whisper.
He only smirked, eyes still on the screen. He said nothing else to you, but moved his fingers higher, and… maybe you weren’t going to stop him. His fingers felt so good against you.
So you let him continue, turning back to watch the movie, cheeks and ears hot.
The little swirls and grazes soon had a deep effect on you. You could feel yourself growing wet from his touches. Were you embarrassed by how oddly horny this was making you? Eh, not really.
It only became worse when Eren’s hand slid down from your shoulder over your breast, cupping you gently over your shirt.
Your hand flew to his thigh as this action, and you bit back a yelp as you looked over at him. “What are you doing?” You whispered.
He leaned in close to you, touching his lips to your ear. “If Jean gets to touch you, so do I.”
Now you were embarrassed. Eren caught you enjoying Jean’s touches—and he especially knew you were enjoying them now that he found your hardened nipple, brushing his fingertip over it through your top.
“You’re getting kinda worked up, aren’t you?” He said in a low voice, vibrating in your ear.
Your breath hitched as he pinched your nipple, then you bit back a whimper as Jean’s fingers found their way under your shorts, barely grazing the lips of your pussy.
“I-I…” You had no defense. You were getting worked up, it was very pleasant having these men touching you.
Jean leaned to the side and nuzzled your cheek as his fingers slid further into your shorts, gently touching your slit through your panties. “Are you wet, beautiful?”
You let out your whimper now, nodding once. “Yeah,” you shyly said.
“Good.” He kissed your cheek and began to twirl his fingers once more, this time over your clit, while Eren continued to pinch your nipple and grope your tit.
You were flooded with pleasure, and you weren’t sure how to handle this. You just met these guys (in real life at least, you knew them pretty well online) and they were already touching you and making you feel tingly and warm.
You couldn’t stop them. There’s no way you could let this pleasure go.
Shifting slightly, you angled your body so that your top half was closer to Eren, and your lower half closer to Jean, knees spreading further.
Jean was absolutely enamored with how soaked you were for them, and he was too eager to push your panties to the side, sliding them carefully away from your dripping cunt so he could push his fingers into your folds, massaging the lips and pinching your clit between his forefinger and thumb.
You held your breath, clenching your hand on Eren’s thigh, the fabric of his pants bunching up between your fingers.
This made him chuckle, and he reached across himself with his free hand to grab your other tit, palming it in circles as he watched you force your head from leaning back.
“Does that feel good, angel?” He asked in a low, sultry voice, dipping his lips down to kiss your neck.
Your answer was stuck in your throat as Jean slipped a finger inside of you, slowly pumping it in and out of your tight hole.
You bucked your hips and slid down in your seat just a bit, allowing him better access.
Eren began to suck at your skin, squeezing your tits a little harder now, loving the plushness of them in his palms.
You bit your lips as hooked his thumb into the neckline of your tank top pulling it down until your breast popped out, making you gasp.
“Eren!” You screeched in a low voice. “There’s people here!”
“Shh, it’s okay, angel.” He kissed at your neck, trailing down to your clavicle. “Just focus on Jean finger fucking you, they’re not paying us any mind.”
You struggled to keep yourself level-headed, struggled to keep your breath steady.
Fuck, this felt so good.
The idea of getting caught suddenly became thrilling to you, and you allowed the men to continue their work on your body.
Your stomach was fluttering desperately at the feeling of Jean’s finger brushing your plush walls, and it didn’t take long for him to find that spot.
And now you were struggling to hold back your moans, licking your lips and biting your tongue to keep yourself quiet.
It was difficult, god was it difficult, Jean’s finger felt like magic inside you, and Eren’s lips like heaven as he continued to kiss at your skin, cupping your exposed tit in the cold air.
His lips trailed further down your chest until he could envelope your nipple in his warm mouth, and this sent you over the edge, had you letting out a quiet, shaky moan.
He chuckled against your skin and began to suck at your hardened bud, while Jean continued his fingering.
Between the two of them fondling and groping and licking at you, you could feel an on-coming orgasm.
How embarrassing would it be to fucking cum in a movie theater?
You didn’t care.
The only thing you cared about was your hips rocking with Jean’s motions, and Eren’s soft lips and heavy tongue still working on your breast.
All too soon, that build up was approaching, and your fist tightened around Eren’s pants, your free hand wrapped around Jean’s arm.
“Guys, please,” you whimpered quietly. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”
You sucked in a breath, your stomach growing hot and abs flexing as you suddenly broke, your dam flooding with your cum pouring into Jean’s palm.
He didn’t stop his ministrations until you were twitching and whining, and only when he pulled his hand away did Eren stop his sucking of your tit, sitting back against his seat after returning your tank top to its previous position.
Jean reached around you, holding his finger out to Eren. “Here, I’ll let you taste,” he whispered to the brunet.
Eren happily wrapped his lips around Jean’s finger, licking up your juices and then turning to you, kissing your cheek. “How do you feel, angel?”
“S’good,” you breathed, a trembling smile covering your lips. “S’hot.”
Jean chuckled at your words and leaned in, kissing your other cheek, then your ear lobe. “Let’s finish the movie now, yeah?”
You nodded, your panties still pushed aside, but you didn’t care to fix them, too fucked out by their touches and kisses to bother with it.
You already decided you wanted a second date.
Lue Arlert’s 100 Followers First Date Event - CLOSED
#lue-arlert’s 100 followers event#first date event#eren jaeger aot#eren jaeger snk#eren jaeger#eren jaeger smut#jean kirstein aot#jean kirstein snk#jean kirstein#jean kirstein smut#ask lue#lue writes
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Chapter Eleven
The Men's Room
Pairing: Kisaki x Fem!Reader
previous | next | the assassin's betrayal
Thursday evening you arrived at Toman's party on the first floor of their HQ with Mikey at your side. The first thing you noticed was how noisy it was over the sounds of music and people conversing all around you. You've got your Toman uniform kept snugly on your body- you're here to work security, not attending the party. Besides, you didn't really want to dress up anyways.
You sit with Mikey and the other higherups of Toman as they chat about literally anything. You involve yourself in some conversations, but in others you rather just pick at your nails or eat the snacks you're offered by the waiters and waitresses that are walking around.
A little while into the party, Mikey bumps your arm. You look down and see that he's sneaking you a pistol from under the skirt of the table. "You won't be a very good security guard if you can't even protect yourself," he whispers.
"Right," you nod as you accept it from him and conceal it within your uniform. "Thanks."
It's about an hour later when Mikey talks to you again. He randomly gets up, causing you to do the same as your job as personal bodyguard. However, as you do, he holds out his hand to you and tells you to sit back down.
"It's fine," he explains with the smallest of grins. "I'm just getting a drink. You want anything?"
"Uh, sure. A beer would be good."
He looks at you a bit oddly for a moment but ends up shrugging it off. "Alright, if that's it," he hums.
"Yeah, that's it. Thanks."
"No problem," he nods and walks off on his own.
Peh then strikes up the most random conversation in the world, bragging about some girl he had met online recently. He begins to dig through his phone for a picture of here before flipping it around and showing everyone.
One, that might be the blurriest photo you've ever seen. What, is this girl taking photos from a potato or something? And two, her head isn't even in it! You shake your head as he shows you the image, he's obviously getting catfished. However, you don't dare express your opinion because the second you do, you know they'll all jump on you for being so negative. But it's not your fault that it's the truth! He deserves to know... Poor, Peh; you're kind of invested in seeing how it'll play out, though.
After a while of sitting and listening to the others go on and on about the most useless crap in the world, you realize that Mikey's still not back and begin to get worried for him. He should have been back with those drinks by now. Maybe he got distracted talking to someone. This is supposed to be a party, after all.
You look down at your phone and see that it's been ten minutes since he left. You get up and leave the others almost as confused as you walk away without a single word. But once you get to the bar, you're the smallest bit relieved that you did get up- Mikey's missing.
A man with a black mullet catches your eye just as he disappears into the crowd. It takes you a moment, but you soon recognize him as the man that Kisaki talked to in the basement of that abandoned building the other night! You begin to rush after him, pushing your way through the crowd until you spot him again, this time disappearing behind a door marked with the sign for the men's bathroom. However, you're not going to let that stop you, you are supposed to be Mikey's bodyguard, after all. You aren't going to let a little sign get in your way.
But when you barge in and see nothing but a man washing his hands on the far side of the room, you feel a bit bad for intruding. Perhaps you mistook someone else for the man from the other night with similar features.
"Uhh, sorry," you begin to apologize as you walk backwards awkwardly towards the door.
The man turns around to face you, and your body freezes the second you recognize him as Kisaki- the same asshole who grins like fucking Satan as he stares at you.
You take another step backwards, but bump into that lackey with the mullet who only pushes you forwards towards Kisaki. Then, as you're held in place, unable to turn back, out from the corner hidden behind the last urinal divider stands Mikey. As he steps out further into your view, you see that he's got a gun to his head thanks to Kazutora standing right behind him.
Your eyes widen as you take in the sight before you. You grab onto the gun within your pocket, wondering how you're going to possibly get yourself and Mikey out of this situation. They probably all have guns, including the lackey behind you that coerced you to get there.
Kazutora grins as he watches the gears begin to spin in your head. "I can't believe you left us like that!" he says as though he's genuinely offended. "I'm so sad it's come to this."
"What the hell do you want with him?! Mikey's got nothing to do with the bullshit you're trying to drag me into," you scoff.
"Isn't he, though?" Kazutora hums. "It's Mikey you work for, so why don't we just get rid of Mikey? Then," Kazutora says with a sea of bloodlust dripping from his voice with every syllable that slides out of his lips, "you'll be readily available for a new position working with us."
previous | next | the assassin's betrayal
Taglist: @hanmascult @kokotakeomi @hana-patata
#kisaki x reader#kisaki x you#kisaki x y/n#tetta kisaki x reader#tetta kisaki x you#tetta kisaki x y/n#kisaki tetta x reader#kisaki tetta#tetta kisaki#x fem!reader#x reader#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers series#tokyo revengers self insert#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo rev x you#tokyo rev x y/n#tokyo revengers x you#tokyo revengers x y/n#hinatastinygiant#fanfiction series#fanfiction#fanfic#ao3#wattpad#the assassin's betrayal
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dearest ana, as another humble request, pls list your favourite bangtan hair colours and/or styles. i KNOW this is going to put you through mass amounts of painful deliberation, and i, for one, cannot wait to read all about it. sincerely, hope xoxo
okay hopie my love - let's run down the best bangtan hairstyles.
*post not sponsored by olaplex despite the number of references i've made to that miracle product on the dash of late*
kim namjoon
say it with me (again). joon looks fucking amazing with an undercut. this undercut specifically with the silver/gunmetal hair, the close-shaved back and sides, this was a look and i'm almost certain i gasped out loud the first time i saw this set of pictures. the only thing i'm asking for now is thiccjoon with this cut and color. i don't think i've set the bar too high. give me what i want, bang PD. i've given you my entire life savings.
kim seokjin
blonde seokjin supremacy, period. y'all, seokjin is so flipping hot with this blonde hair i'm shook every time he does it. this whole era honestly. fire? save me? blonde seokjin came for souls and he got them. if anyone needs me, i'll be sitting on the floor in this middle of this circle of candles trying to summon him one more time.
min yoongi
mint muthaf*&^%n yoongi, y'all. this was a look on mr. min and he knows it. i honestly don't even think this color would work on another one of the members but it suits him so well, particularly when paired with these delightfully thick nerd glasses. be my poetry-reading, coffee-sipping emo boyfriend yoongi. i'm asking nicely.
jung hoseok
y'all, i really sat here for ten minutes mulling over this decision like important shit really hangs in the balance. first i was like, pewter hoseok. because that cut/color he was pulling off in the ON era was fire. but. then. i. thought. about. this. look. from. butter. not quite the ice blonde, not the banana yellow, sure as hell not that highlighter color they rolled out but this blonde. this white blonde with the shaved sides. this. THIS. send help.
park jimin
surprise, surprise. jimin looks amazing in literally every hair color, i know you're just shocked. so it took me a minute to pick. blonde undercut idol jimin? pink-haired kitty gang jimin? black-haired lip-ring wearing daechwita jimin? in the end, i had to go with a throwback. silver-haired, silver-tongued BST jimin who snatched my soul in this MV with this look. this suits him so damned well, the cut and the color.
kim taehyung
this might be the ultimate boyfriend fantasy picture. the messy bed head, just perfectly tousled. tae looks amazing with his god-given dark hair. it suits his style, his look, his vibe. may the stylist noonas never again disrespect this man's legendary beauty with another crispy ramen perm. he was crafted by the creator perfect as he is.
jeon jungkook
we've gotten a lot of different JK hair looks in the past year or so. we had that clip-on mullet in winter package, purple koo, blonde koo, bloo koo. but honestly none of those koos are as tasty as Original Recipe™ koo. jungkook has said himself that he likes his hair dark and you know what, we like it too. dark and just a little long, just a little sweaty? that's the shit i like. just perfect.
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Signs of Attachment (Ch. 3)
Summary: Having an auditory processing disorder never slowed you down, but it mean you were confined to the Temple when the Clone Wars started. Will the frustration of not understanding people at times make for a rather lonely existence?
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2
Pairing: Obi-Wan/Reader (Gender Neutral)
Rating: G (for now)
Warnings: Hard of Hearing Reader, Fluff, Gender Neutral Reader
Taglist: @trash-dino-5000
A/N: Thank you, again, for everyone who’s read. This is the tentative end, but I may add an epilogue at some point!!
Just a reminder:
“Text.” Means someone is speaking.
“Text.” Means someone is speaking and signing.
Text, Means someone is signing.
Chapter 3 - Falling
I mulled over a data pad in my examination room, counting down the seconds until I could run to the mess hall for lunch. I felt an all too familiar signature approaching my door, making me look up before it had even opened. It had been a couple months since that spar with Obi-Wan, but we had both enjoyed it so much that we made a habit of it at least once a week. Though, not as intensely as that first one that left both of us rather sore the next day.
“Good afternoon,” Obi-Wan signed immediately upon seeing my eyes fixed on him. His voice rang out melodically, so I basked in it before it would inevitably become muddled.
My eyes widened when I saw his hair, “You got a hair cut?”
He paused, embarrassed because I’d noticed.
“Yes, yesterday,” he ran a hand through his hair, which was brushed over to the side, his mullet long gone.
“It looks good, I love it, Obi-Wan,” I complimented, his cheeks tinting pink almost immediately.
“Have you had—lunch?” He asked, stumbling over the sign at the end.
“No, not yet,” I stood and stretched.
“Come with me,” he nodded his head toward the door with a bright smile.
“What are you up to?” I squinted my eyes at him.
“You’ll see,” he winked.
I followed him, impressed with his progress every day. Obi-Wan led us away from the direction of the mess hall, toward the entrance to one of the gardens.
I smacked his arm to get his attention, “Where are we going? The mess hall is that way.”
“Patience,” he smirked and patted my shoulder. He led me with his hand still firmly on my shoulder while we entered the gardens. We weaved our way through to the back until we stopped at a sort of clearing. I felt him tap my shoulder before he dropped his hand.
“My Master and I used to—have mid-meal here often,” he explained.
“It’s beautiful, Obi-Wan,” I sighed in awe at my surroundings. I had been in the gardens hundreds of times but never in this specific spot, hidden just for Obi-Wan and his Master. I looked down, seeing a small blanket, just barely big enough for us to sit on, and lunch already spread out for us, my head snapping to him in question.
“You planned this?” I questioned.
“Yes,” he signed, then waved his hand for me to sit down. “An excuse to get you alone, nothing compares to conversation.”
“I agree.”
We sat facing one another so signing would be easier, our legs crossed and knees nearly touching each other. The food was off to the side of us for us to grab. As we dug in to the food he had brought, my involuntary sigh of happiness at finally being able to eat made him laugh softly, something so much easier to hear here where it was relatively quiet and low distraction. I waved my fingers up and down at him to get his attention as he looked off elsewhere.
“Obi-Wan, did you make this?
A laugh bubbled from his lips and his head shook, “Stars, no, ask Ana—kin, I can’t cook.”
I felt a smile tug my lips as I watched him stumble over fingerspelling, “That’s not good!”
He just shrugged, “He survived.”
“How is your Padawan?” I wondered, not having seen him in a couple weeks.
“He was knighted,” Obi was signed, mimicking the cutting of a Padawan braid with his fingers behind his ear.
My eyes widened in shock, “That’s amazing, Obi-Wan, congratulations!”
“Thank you,” he signed, then bowed his head.
He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth, “What does this mean?” He asked and mimicked a sign I had just used.
My cheeks burned a little at having to explain it, “It’s your name.”
“But, my name is signed,” O-B-I- — -W-A-N? He finger spelled his name.
“Yes, you’re right, but see how long that took?” I raised my eyebrows at him.
Yes, “It was a lot,” Obi-Wan half signed and half spoke.
“Of course, if it’s okay with you, I shortened it to that. It’s just your hand making an ‘O’ and a couple swipes to your jaw,” I explained and demonstrated it again.
“That’s so much easier,” he repeated the sign. “Why here, though?” He asked, gesturing to his jaw.
“Um, your…beard,” I stuttered slightly.
“Interesting,” Obi-Wan murmured, running his hand over said beard.
I stared at the way his fingers sifted and twisted in the hair. I snapped myself out of a trance and continued on explaining.
“Usually, personal signs like that have your initial and something distinctive about you. Something you wear, your favorite animal, your occupation…”
“I see, so what would Anakin’s be? Because spelling his was exhausting, too,” Obi-Wan chuckled. I smiled involuntarily at the sound of his laughter, not always able to hear it so clearly in our brief passings.
“You’ll get better at it in time,” I nudged his knee with mine and finger-spelled “Anakin” quickly.
“That’s not fair,” he nudged back.
“Well, Anakin has a scar, right? That’s identifiable, so maybe this?” I made an “A” and drew a line down over my right eye with my thumb.
“That’s…genius, how did I not think of that?” Obi-Wan sighed.
“It can be hard to come up with them sometimes,” I shrugged.
“What did you use for Master Plo?” Obi-Wan wondered.
The words decided, then, to muddle together making me look at him strangely, Repeat, I signed to him.
“Sorry, what sign did you use for Master Plo,” he repeated and added sign.
“I made a ‘P’ with both hands and did the gesture for teacher, pretty much,” I demonstrated it for him. “It got the point across as him being my teacher. Similarly, he made my initial and did the gesture for student for me.”
“Clever, though you’re not my student, so what would you use now?” His hand made its way back to his beard, letting his fingers smooth over the chin area. And he wondered why I chose that area for his name.
“Mmm…the closest thing we have to ‘healer’ is ‘doctor’ so maybe…” I trailed off as I formed my initial with my dominant hand and tapped the inner part of my wrist on my non-dominant hand with that palm facing up. “I’d never really needed it before, but that works pretty well.”
I watched Obi-Wan repeat the sign a few times to commit it to memory.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he signed.
“Nice to meet you, too, Obi-Wan,” my shoulders jumped with laughter.
“How long do you have left on—your break?”
“Thirty minutes,” I answered after checking my comm for the time. I groaned and let myself fall backwards, my feet unfolding to land on either side of Obi-Wan. Most of my body was now in the grass behind me, not that I minded.
“Hey, you can’t nap, I can’t sign if you’re laying down!” Obi-Wan protested at my dramatic gesture.
“Relax, Obi, you’re doing well,” I rolled my eyes.
“But I’d like to get practice in!”
“We’re you a master’s pet? Because you sound like one. Oh, who am I kidding, of course you were,” I closed my eyes and rested my hands on my stomach.
I felt Obi-Wan move next to me and lay down, “I resent that.”
“But, was I not correct?” I opened my eyes and turned my head in his direction, seeing his head propped on his hand and looking down at me.
All he did in response was squint. Obi-Wan huffed and laid on his back, playfully bitter about not being able to practice, as if he hadn’t set up a whole lunch date. His hand fell into the grass, softly picking at the blades while the other rested on his chest.
“Obi, huh?” He commented turning his head slightly to raise an eyebrow at me.
“Sorry,” I murmured back, letting a hand slide off my stomach and fall into the grass, my pinky landing on his.
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“Your name is just so tedious that I have to shorten it in speech and sign,” I stressed the “and” by poking the back of his hand with my index finger.
“Yes, well I didn’t choose it, dear.”
“‘Dear’? How old are you?” I snorted.
“Our Temple Days are only five months apart, don’t insult me!”
“Says the man with gray hairs,” I mumbled.
“You’re insufferable. It’s a wonder I don’t have more, now,” he ripped a few blades of grass and used the force to fling them at me.
“You’re the one who invited me,” I sent the grass back at him, hearing him bat the grass off his face with his other hand.
I felt his hand shift under mine, taking it as a sign for me to move my hand, but as soon as I did his palm turned up and grabbed my hand back. I felt a blush rising up my neck, that I could probably pass off as a reaction to the grass, but probably not well. I could feel the contentment he was pushing through the force where our hands met, only making my blush rise faster.
What in the world was he doing?
He settled his hand when he was sure I wasn’t going to take mine back and let his fingertips barely pass through mine. Enough so, that if I squeezed my fingertips together just slightly, I could feel his next to mine.
“Why are you learning BSL, Obi-Wan?” I blurted out.
I did my best to shield my feelings, especially since we were touching, but I couldn’t help wondering why he was doing this. In the back of my mind, I knew it was for me but the fact of the matter is he was a model Jedi. He had no business growing so close to me these last seven months, learning a whole new language for me, and quite literally holding my hand in this moment.
I was too nervous to turn my head all the way but saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed anxiously. I could no longer feel contentment though his hand, but a nervous, vibrating energy instead. Obi-Wan’s fingers slipped entirely passed mine, lacing our fingers together purposefully.
I could read into it without him saying anything, but I was not going to be the reason one of the Order’s greatest Jedi would be expelled, or worse, fall to the dark side. Not that I was entirely without fault here, either. I had definitely fallen victim to attachment toward him, as well; hard.
“Obi-Wan, I can’t d—,” I moved to sit-up, but Obi-Wan sat up faster.
Please, wait, he let go of my hand very briefly to sign.
“Not now, I—.”
Please.
I could see the urgency in his eyes and hear it desperately in his voice as he plead with me, so I paused my hasty exit.
You’re—important to me, he signed slowly, foregoing speech because of the topic, trying to figure out what he wanted to confess as he went.
This isn’t good, Obi-Wan, the Council—
—Can’t understand BSL, he interrupted.
No, but they can read the force. You forget my old Master is also on the Council, I let my arms flop down in frustration.
I’m on the Council, too, now, or have you forgotten? He challenged with a playful twinkle in his eye.
Regardless, they are very set in their ways and my shields aren’t as impeccable as yours, my signing was more erratic than normal, his eyes tracking everything and trying to understand as quickly as possible. If I wasn’t so terrified, I would have said it was good practice for him.
I’ll help you, he took one of my hands in his tightly.
I scoffed and shook my head, No.
I quickly stood up, dropping Obi-Wan’s hand, only to be stopped by a single string of signs.
I’ve fallen in love with you, he finally signed, almost defeatedly dropping his hands in his lap. His eyes were downcast, my entire body frozen as I stared down at him sitting on the blanket. That’s why I’ve kept learning, because I…, he trailed off.
I didn’t even try to pretend that I didn’t feel the same way in that moment, he was just brave enough to say it first. I stared at him for ages, in tune with how his signature had wilted ever so slightly during this extended silence. I finally stuck my hand out to him, to which he looked at and then up at me. I waved my fingers impatiently, so he grabbed my hand and pulled himself up.
We stood almost chest to chest, neither of us moving. I held his gaze, trying to bring myself to sign but my hands were shaking next to me. Obi-Wan brought his hand up, brushing his thumb along my cheek. He didn’t rush me but seemed content to just watch my nervous face. Finally, I brought my hands up, his eyes immediately focusing on them out of habit.
I—I’ve fallen for you, too, I’m…sorry. I shouldn’t feel like this, we shouldn’t…, I looked down, feeling guilt wash over me like a tidal wave.
“No, no, no,” Obi-Wan murmured, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Never be sorry, not for this.”
I allowed myself to sink into his arms, the guilt barely subsiding at the contact. At least until Obi-Wan metaphorically opened the floodgates and pushed through the feelings he had kept hidden from me. I gasped against his tabards, a warmth surrounding me and taking my breath away. I pulled my head back to look at him, running my hand over his beard and smiling as he nuzzled into my palm. Obi-Wan let go of me with one hand, taking my hand in his own so he could bring it to his lips. With his eyes closed and a desperate kiss to my knuckles, he let my hand go and dropped his other from around me.
Can I kiss you? He signed shyly, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly.
Pleas—
He barely let me finish the full sign before he was pulling me back into his arms. I had no choice but to wrap my arms around his shoulders as his mouth descended on mine.
There was nothing complicated or urgent about it, just a simple, exploratory meeting. I pulled away first, the location of this scandalous occurrence suddenly hitting me.
“I need to get back to the Halls of Healing,” I sighed as he pressed his forehead against mine.
“Let me walk you.”
I nodded, allowing him to hold me close as we walked until we got to the busy hallways. In the semi-safe enclosure of my examination room, Obi-Wan pulled me close and kissed me again. This time, more urgently than before, his tongue swiping along my bottom lip and making me clutch his tunics tighter.
I smiled into the kiss but pushed him back by his chest, You’re getting too excited.
Sorry, he replied shyly.
I’ll see you later, I signed, punctuated with a quick kiss.
I’ll be waiting, he stepped backwards toward the door until the door swooshed open. I love you, he signed with his back to the hallway.
I love you, too.
With that, Obi-Wan left the doorway, giving me a passing sign for “ILY” while waving with that index finder at the same time.
#obi wan x y/n#obi wan x you#obi wan x reader#obi wan kenobi#gn!mc#gn!reader#gender neutral reader#gender neutral y/n#hard of hearing reader
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Late nights at Hawkins High Part 2 (Billy Hargrove x reader)
Part 1
You went to stand in the line to get your degree in the sun on the field where you and Billy shared your first kiss a few months ago. It felt like an eternity ago. You waited until they called your last name, walked onto the stage shaking hands with the headmaster and he handed you the piece of paper that meant you were free. After the ceremony you walked up to the mullet haired boy that was your boyfriend. You and Billy had been going strong for the last months. "Hey there.“ you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, his went around your waist as he gave you a sweet kiss "Hey princess. Congrats.“ he whispered against your lips as you parted slightly "Congrats to you too.“ you smiled at him. You took his hand into yours and walked to where your parents where standing. "Look at you two! Congratulations!“ your mother said and gave both of you a big hug, your father did the same afterwards. Your parents liked Billy alot even before you became a couple and they were even happier as you told them that you were in a relationship. You talked to them a bit until his father, his stepmom and Max came over to where you were standing. "Congratulations!“ Susan said as they approached you. "Who would’ve thought Billy was getting a degree!“ his father laughed, it seemed like he wanted it to sound like a joke but you knew his intentions behind it so you took your boyfriends hand again and gave it a squeeze. Your parents talked for a bit with his parents and Neil threw quite a view mean "jokes“ toward Billy.
After a few more minutes you excused yourself and walked a bit away from the group. "I fucking hate him.“ you muttered once you were sure they couldn’t hear you anymore. "Me too, but it’s only one more night.“ he said and you began to smile widely. Tomorrow you would leave Hawkins and you couldn’t be happier to start this new chapter of your life. "Y/n, Billy!“ Someone called and you saw your other best friend Robin come towards you. "Oh my god hey!“ you two hugged each other "Can you believe it? We actually did it!“ you said "I know right?!“ she went to give Billy a hug afterwards. When you and Billy had first got close she wasn’t a fan of him at all. She actually despised him but they eventually got on fine with each other and once she saw how happy he made you she didn’t hated him that much anymore. She was actually happy after you told her that you were together now since she knew how much you liked him and she just wanted her best friend to be happy. One particular Friday night when Robin was staying at your house Billy tapped on your window almost giving her a heart attack thinking the monster from the movie you had just watched was coming. That night he let Robin in on his secret after you swore to him that he could trust her that she wouldn’t tell anyone. After that she understood why he was acting the way he used to in school better.
You and your two friends talked a bit until someone screamed "HARGROVE!“ you saw Billy cringe slightly "Hey Tommy“ Billy said to the boy that approached you all now. "What’s up? You gonna come to my party tonight right?“ he asked and Billy shrugged looking at you gave a small nod. "Yeah guess so.“ He said and Tommy clapped his back "That’s my man!“. They continue talking and you turn towards Robin "You’re coming too right?“ she makes a disapproving sound "It’s my last night and I want to spend it with my best friend please!“ you whine and a smile breaks out on her face "Okay okay!“ you hug her thightly once more.
Afterwards you and Billy went to your parents house to have dinner with them. They originally wanted to invite the Hargrove/Mayfield household too but you asked them not to. Without much explaining you had told your family that Billy had a difficult relationship with his father and that Neil was not a nice person. Billy was happy when he sat down at your table now. He always felt welcomed in your parents home and he was so thankful that they’d accepted him into their lives. You all ate and talked freely. You were also extremely happy seeing your parents and your boyfriend get along so nicely. After the dinner your parents handed you both a envelope. "We have a little present for the two of you. Go on open it!“ your mother said and you opened it, in it were two checks with 500 dollars each. Your family was far from rich so thousand dollars was a lot of money for you. "I- I can’t take this.“ Billy said shaking his head. "Billy. We love you, you are a part of this family now and we thought you two would need a little something for California.“ you father said. Billy looked at it for another moment while he blinked, he looked at your father "Thank you! A lot. Thank you.“ your mother gave the blonde another hug and you thanked them after that. You were so happy to have a loving family and you were sad to leave them. But you would had left Hawkins even if you hadn’t met Billy. You wanted to leave this town since you were 12.
"I can’t believe you are leaving me here!“ Robin pouted but you knew there were no hard feelings. You two sat on a bench in the garden of Tommys House, everyone else was inside drinking and dancing. After a bit Billy came through the door "Here you are.“ you shuffled closer to Robin so he could sit next to you. "Oh I forgot to tell you! I went to get my work uniform today and guess who’s my co worker?“ she asked you pulled your eyebrows up "Who?“ she took a sip from the red cup before saying "Steve fucking Harrington!“ you chuckled "Don’t laugh! It’s a nightmare!“ now you actually let out a laugh "Geez Robin maybe he’s nice...“ she rolled her eyes at you "He’s a dingus!“ "I agree!“ Billy said and you shot him a glance "You shouldn’t be so quick to judge him. Remember I wasn’t so happy either when I was paired up with this one.“ you nodded your head towards Billy "Hey!“ he chuckled holding a hand over his heart. "You know i love you know. But you were mean back then.“ you explained yourself "Yeah I was a dick...“
"Look people can change maybe you and Steve will become friends.“ Robin made a disgusted face "Okay stop before im going to puke.“ you leaned your head onto Billy’s shoulder as the topic of the conversation changed.
As you were about to leave you remembered to ask something "Oh Robin you’re coming over tomorrow right?“
"Of course what time?“ you thought about it "Billy comes over at 12 so maybe 10?“ she nodded and you all got into your parents car wich you drove since you didn’t owned one yourself and neither did Robin and the camaro was already packed with your suitcases and stuff you wanted to take with you to your knew home. You drove Robin home and then made your way to Billy’s house. "You really don’t want to stay over at mine?“ you asked as you looked at the House in front of you. "Nah my dad would actually kill me if I would do that.“ he leaned over to give you a kiss "Also after tonight I can share a bed with you every night.“ you hummed as you leaned in again. The sweet little kiss turned into a small make out session. Kissing Billy still made you nervous but a good kind of nervous, the butterflies were still there everytime. "I love you Billy.“ you said and he gave you a peck again "I love you too.“ he opened the door "See you tomorrow.“ he said. Once he reached the door he winked at you and then he was gone.
The next morning you had breakfast with your parents and packed a few things you needed like your shampoo and toothpaste, everything else was already in the Camaro. You had been able to downgrade your need of rooms once you were actually a couple since you wouldn’t need two separate bedrooms anymore. The flat you had ended up renting wasn’t that big but you loved it when you visited it a few weeks ago also it wasn’t far from the beach. Billy had already found a job there, one of his old friends had known someone who looked for a lifeguard this summer and being a California native he easily got the job. You would look for one in the coming weeks even though Billy was always telling you to apply for college in California but you wanted to start college with him next year.
Robin came over to your house and you talked until Billy came over. You said your goodbyes to your parents first crying but they assured you that you did the right thing and that the two would be back to thanksgiving anyway. Robin hugged you tight and you had to swear to her to call every week at least once and meet up with her when you were in town. You also told her that she should come visit you at the end of summer. While you talked to her your parents hugged Billy goodbye and once you parted Robin looked at the mulled haired boy "Come here you Dingus!“ they hugged and you heard her say "Take good care of her!“ he chuckled "I will.“ she smiled too "Yeah I know.“ you got into the car’s passenger seat, still crying and you all waved as you left. "Are you sure you want to do this... with me?“ Billy asked almost whispering. "Of course I want to B!“ he didn’t looked at you "Billy I love you and I want to start this new part of my life with you! I’m sure in this decision! I want this.“ he smiled now "I want this too. Fuck You don’t know how happy I am that I’m able to leave and on top of that I have you.“ you intertwined your fingers with his and he gave your hand a kiss.
The drive was exhausting, you took turns driving so the other could sleep but finally you did it. The moment you stood in the living room of your new home you knew this long drive was worth it. You squealed as you hugged Billy close giving him a few fast kisses. You were able to get a small flat that was already furnished. Sure it wasn’t anything fancy but you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. This was perfect. After you brought your stuff inside you decided to take a walk on the beach and get some takeaway.
Billy watched the smile on your face wich made him smile as well. You walked hand in hand, the water beside you and you just looked stunning to him. He could actually cry because of how happy he was. "I can’t believe this.“ Billy said and you looked up at him "I know it’s perfect here.“ he stopped walking causing you to also halt. "I love you y/n. You don’t know how much and I’d never thought that would be possible but here I am.“ you smiled up at the boy with the blonde mullet and your heart hammered in your chest. "I love you too Billy Hargrove.“ he smiled a genuine smile, the one he gave only you before he slipped his hand in yours and kissed the back of it briefly as you started to walk along the shore again.
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