#razor blade haircut

[lactosegremlin]

my cute emo hair stylist complemented me on my day old eye make up today and i’m just gonna go cry now.

[sunshine-zenith]

Raine is absolutely a buzzcut NB and I love them for that

[k20spock]

[ID: A page of colored digital drawings of The Razor from the game Slay the Princess. The center of the image shows a large drawing of her standing, facing the viewer with her blades raised. She is smiling with crooked, pointy teeth. The drawing is outlined in red. Off to the left side are two drawings, the first showing The Razor sitting on the ground and smiling as she uses her blades to cut her hair. Chunks of hair and her crown lay on the ground next to her. The second drawing shows her with her hair choppily cut above her shoulders. She is smiling.

Off to the right side are three drawings. The first shows The Razor with blood on one of her blades, flatly saying “hehe :3”. Underneath that are two simple drawings. The first shows The Razor at the end of the length of her chain, looking confused and surprised. An arrow leads to the second drawing, which shows The Razor using her blade to slice off her arm chained to the wall, smiling and saying “oopsie!” End ID.]

by popular demand, the razor doing razor things + with shoddily cut hair as an anon very wisely suggested

[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.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

🎶Happy birthday to me🎶.

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

[joshslater]

Emergency Model

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Excuse me, what's your shoe size?"

Bewildered I looked around to find the man who asked the random question, like out of that old episode of Monty Python. Off to the side, almost behind me, was a thirty-ish man in polo shirt, jeans, and glasses with plastic rims that looked purposefully selected to make him look like a film director or architect. He looked unsure or stressed. "Eight, eight and a half. Who's asking?"

Immediately he brightened up. "Hello. I'm Ben Atkinson, " he said and extended his hand. "We're making a photo shoot of the supplemental collection of sporting clothes," he continued without waiting for me to shake it. "It's all for the online shop, so simple stuff. White background, a few poses." Tentatively I shook his hand. "Pretty fast rotation of models. Unfortunately one of them has called in sick. You have the right look, but more importantly the right build and size."

"Uhum," I answered, sensing where this was going. It was a Saturday morning, and I was on my way to meet up with some friends at Wayland's Deli.

"This is quite sudden, but we are on a tight deadline. If you're willing to model for us I'll give you twice the normal rate."

"Ok," I said, not waiting to hear what the normal rate was. I'm sure Stuart would not stop giving me grief about it for the rest of the year, but I would technically be a photo model which wouldn't be a negative in Sarah's eyes. Turned out that it would also be double my monthly earnings as well, so maybe I could shut Stuart up as well.

We entered the building, which apparently was an office space that had been taken over for the day for the shoot. There were racks of clothes everywhere, lots of people with iPads tracking what item was where, who should wear it, and in what conference room they should shoot it. It was bustling with activity. After some exchange of information with Ben, and signing papers, I was handed over to a conference room turned makeup and styling studio. Most of the furniture was stacked in one corner and the floor was covered by transparent plastic that had been rolled out. To one side was a table with lots of makeup tools and bottles and stuff I wouldn't know how to use, except maybe the hand mirror and the scissors, and even that I'm not confident with. A pair of strong LED lamps on stands lit a chair placed at the center of the plastic. 

"I'm Julia, pleased to meet you. So you are the last one," said the stylist, carefully surveying me and in particular my face and hair. "We're short on time, so we have to work quickly. Are you ok with a buzz cut and tight fade?" Not what I would have chosen, but it's starting to get warm outside and it's only hair. I'd be back to my current length after the summer. "Sure."

She seated me in the chair and began the work with a corded trimmer, and soon a flurry of detail work with smaller trimmers and some of her tools from the table. Probably took her about ten minutes for the haircut. Then some time with a straight razor blade and a tweezer to pluck and shave all over my face and then arms. I told her that this was all new to me, having literally just been picked from the street. She reassured me that there wasn't much to it. Just be no-nonsense about it. Take whatever the stylist decides, change clothes quickly, do the poses the photographer asks for, and repeat.

"All done," she said and handed me the hand mirror as if I had any say in this. I looked so different than just moments before. The hair was shorter than I've ever had it, with a razor sharp fringe line. The fade on the sides was basically just an inch tall from the head and down the temple, then skin tight down, and presumably the same around the back of the head as well. The total amount of hair I was left with could fit a shot glass. "If you go down the corridor to the break room there is a shower in the bathroom there. Ask Andy outside to let you in. Take a quick rinse to get rid of stray hairs, change into these, put your stuff in one of the plastic boxes there, and come back to me for a final touch-up." She handed me a pair of white briefs and white socks. I hesitated a bit, and she was quick to jump ahead of my thoughts. "Everyone around here are used to see gorgeous bodies without clothes. Act as if it is normal, because to us it is. You can't be self-conscious. Oh, and Andy is the only one with a key, so your valuables are safe." Another boy showed up at the door saying he needed a new application. I told Julia thanks and went to look for Andy.

Andy unlocked the door to the office lunch room for me and I did as Julia had told me. I stripped naked and put everyting, clothes, wallet, phone, keys, shoes, into one of the plastic boxes, wrote my name on it with a whiteboard marker and placed it next to all the other boxes. Eight boxes in total. I went into the bathroom, took a 90 seconds shower, and dried myself off with one of the towels from the pile. I put on the briefs and socks, had Julia apply her things to me, and within ten minutes I was dressed in Nike shoes, joggers, and a fleece hoodie, being ordered by a photographer who didn't have time to introduce himself to look left, turn around, put my hands in my pockets, pull up the hood, sit down on the floor, and on and on. Then out change, and back with the next item.

It was going non-stop since they were behind on my stuff, so I had barely time to talk to anyone. There wasn't any proper lunch break either, just a protein bar together with two of the other models, Mark and Andrew. At first they thought it was funny that I had just been snatched off the street for the shoot, but when I told them how much more money I got they were like "fuck you, go back to work". Well the break was over anyway, so I don't know how serious they were.

It continued with item after item, until I realized I was the only model left. The others had taken off without saying goodbye, not that we had any relation. People were moving things out of the office, and when I asked about the hurry they said there was a firm deadline when they had to be out so the cleaning crew could put everything back to a working office again. I could feel the pressure as it was my item changes that held up everyone. I swapped into a pair of MRKNTN underwear that probably was like half a size too small but decided to just power through with the shoot. As soon as the last photo had been taken, they started to dismantle the light rigs. As I walked back to the lunch room I could see that most of the clothes racks were gone. The makeup room was back to looking like a conference room. I couldn't find Andy anywhere though, and the lunch room with my stuff was still locked. I wanted my stuff for sure, but more importantly I wanted to get out of the underwear that kept squeezing and chafing. I couldn't go more than 30 seconds without having my hands down the joggers to adjust them.

Ben wasn't anywhere to be seen either. I asked one of the remaining people and he said they had all left, working on getting all the stuff back and preparing the "delivery pipeline" for the photos. Probably Andy had checked off everyone from his list, and it was printed before I was recruited. "Just keep the clothes you have on and you can come back here Monday and pick up your stuff," he said.

Fuck.

No point in hanging around any longer. Everyone wanted to leave as soon as possible, so I just left and headed towards the bus stop. It was getting late and with no phone on me I couldn't call home and say what was going on.

Fuck.

I didn't have anything to pay the bus fare with. I could perhaps go back to the office building and see if I could catch anyone exiting, use their phone, and call for someone to pick me up. But there was no telling if and when I would get hold of anyone. Just walking back there would make me miss the next bus, so that would set me back at least an hour. I could just as well ask someone else to use their phone. Or perhaps ask them to cover the bus fare.

That's when I saw them, a little bit further down the street, past the bus stop. Six boys huddled at the corner, talking and messing around as if no one else was around. One had a bike. All of them dressed in the kind of clothes I had spent all day modeling in, track suits, hoodies, trainers. All of them were smoking. I figured I'd have as good a chance with them as with anyone else now, looking the way I looked.

As I was getting closer one of them alerted the others and they had some kind of conversation about me. "Hello, excuse me. Could I borrow money for the bus fare from any of you?" There was a second of silence before a mixed snicker erupted, and one of them answered "No, bruv. I don't think so."

I don't know why, but for some reason I was mortified by how I had been dismissed. I could feel my face turning red, so I quickly turned away from them to make my way back to the bus stop, without any plan of what to do next.

"Oi, bruv!" I heard from behind me. Looking back at them I could see three boys had gotten up and were heading my way. "Callum's grafting down at the barber's for some extra quid and need someone to practice on. What if he can do some practice while we cover the fare and take you home safely? Fair, innit?"

"I barely have any hair," I said and let my hand touch my fresh skin fade, almost shocking myself with how radically different it felt.

"Won't be much of a nick then, bruv."

He was right. There wasn't much he could ruin. I had only a few millimeters of hair so in the worst case scenario I could shave completely and it would be back within the week.

"Good lad. A deal innit."

"Yes," I said, unsure if it was expected. The guy who had spoken and Callum flanked me while the third lad walked behind me, enveloping me with the scent of smoke and body spray. After a silent moment the guy spoke again, introducing himself as Iwan and the third guy as Rob, and asked where I lived. I gave him the bus stop, Hillside Garden North, about 18 minutes ride. Would have been busy during the week, but at weekends there wouldn't be many on the bus.

We didn't have to wait long for the bus to arrive, but instead of entering by the driver they all bunched up again with me in the middle and entered through the exit doors as a single unit. Then they quickly moved to the back of the bus and pushed me into a seat next to Callum, facing Iwan and Rob in the furthest back seat. I half expected the driver to say something over the speakers, but there was barely a delay, if any, before the bus was moving as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I looked at Iwan with perhaps a bit of surprise and he just shrugged as if to say "what did you expect? That the driver would confront us?"

Then he nodded at Callum next to me, backpack in his lap, who answered "Aye" and got up. He placed the bag on the seat and positioned himself right in front of me, one leg on either side of mine, his knees hitting the edge of the seat, and his left hand grabbing the rail behind me. It felt both imposing and intimate. He opened the backpack and rummaged around with his right hand until he found a small trimmer in a zip-lock bag.

He opened it with both hands and threw the plastic bag into the backpack. Then he looked out and waited for the bus to drive on straight and even road before he turned the trimmer on. Then slowly he moved it in an arched line from my temple and along the side of my head until he reached the neck. Then he studied for a few seconds before he made a few additional buzzes along the same line.

"Not bad, innit?" he said while shifting his body so Iwan and Rob could see. "Fucking mint, mate," Iwan answered.

Then he turned on the trimmer again and unexpectedly extended the line by buzzing my eyebrow for a few seconds. I hadn't even considered my eyebrows. Callum reached into his backpack again to put the trimmer in the zip-lock, but without moving his feet so his body pressed even closer to me. While I couldn't see much, I could certainly feel his body spray filling my nostrils while I felt my eyebrows with my fingers. I guess there would be a lot to explain to mother anyway, so this would just be yet another detail.

I could just see it for a fraction of a second. It looked like a small glue gun in off-white plastic. Then before I could realize what it was it was pressed against my ear, it made a snapping sound, and I felt a sharp pain. "What the!" I said, more in surprise than pain.

"18G piercing. Hurts more, heals slower, but much better," Callum offered, as if it was the type of piercing that was in question, not that he had done it at all. He reloaded the piercing gun and I struggled with what to do. Just take it like the first one? Why should I? But then one piercing was the real threshold. Once you pass that, two is if anything better than one. This would soon be over anyway.

He was just as quick with the second one as the first one. "These need to stay in 30 days, you hear me?" he said, still standing essentially on top of me. "Yes, I understand," I said with a sinking feeling of all the implications. He put the gun back into the bag and went searching for something again. Finally he pulled out some sort of pliers, then held my earlobe with one hand while doing something with the pliers with the other. "Making sure they don't fall off," he explained before sitting down again on his seat. I could see Iwan and Rob again, and booth looked pleased. Iwan looked absolutely chuffed. "Fucking proper, innit" he said and pat me hard on the shoulder. "Fucking proper."

After than Iwan opened up and started to ask me all kinds of questions, starting with my name, which I realized I hadn't given him when he presented everyone. I was soon giving the highlights of the day as a photo model until we arrived my stop. To my surprise everyone got off with me. "Said we would take you home safe." We continued to chat all the way home and it turned out me Iwan and Rob had the same taste in electronic music while Callum was more of a rock guy.

"Ok, this is my stop," I said once we reached my house. "Meet us Monday, same time and place," Iwan said. "What?" "You owe us £2 for the bus, bruv." "But..." "You going back on our deal?" "No, I'll come by." "And wear the same clothes. Underwear too." "No! I have classes." "You'll figure it out, bruv." Callum opened his backpack again and tossed something to Iwan. "And use this," he said and handed over a can of Lynx Jungle body spray. "What if I don't? What if I don't do any of that?" "Where you live isn't a secret, innit? See you Monday, bruv."

[running-with-kn1ves]

MASKED INTRUDER PT 3 I BEGGGGG, ugh, clingy inexperienced yandere + language barrier + overeager and aggressive + needy needy needy, He is perfect! Honestly i had a spiral and came straight here to read my comfort fics and i forgot how much i loved that one 🥺 leooooo

A/N: Still not sure what I should do about Leo's origins; I've had some thoughts but nothing really planned out. Anyway thank you lots anon!

Here's Pt. 1 and Pt. 2 Word count: 2400

TW: Possessiveness, jealousy, threats of murder, razor blades, average creepy dude living in your walls behavior

Synopsis: An unexpected guest comes over, causing chaos to ensue.

The sensation of soap under your fingernails and warm water running down your forearms was one of comfort that you openly welcomed. You couldn't remember the last time you took a bath, and you could hardly count this bathing of your 'roommate' as a bath of your own.

But with your shirt soaked and your forehead damp, you finally had what could be mildly considered a clean version of Leo.

He begrudgingly sat on the cool tile floor, allowing you to ruffle his hair with a bath towel (which was really a poor attempt to manage the mess of loose, lengthy curls on his scalp.) He needed a haircut for sure, but you couldn't muster up the courage to put the scissors to his head. 

Getting him out of the house to an haircut appointment would never happen. To say he was agoraphobic was a complete understatement-- he abhorred the outside world. You sometimes think about what would've happened If you hadn't taken pity on him, allowing him to continue to find refuge in your tiny home. Or, was it perhaps he was allowing you? Until, he found that you wouldn't suffice as a worthy roomate any longer, disposing of you like he could've done to whoever originally owned this home. The mystery surrounding his origin that he seemed to completely ignore answering on still made you… cautious.  

He still felt like an extension of the house; the smell of its creaky, rotting walls, still always clinging to him-- even now, after you scrubbed him down from head to toe twice. 

You grunted as you roughly tugged his head back and forth to rub the remaining water away. Unfortunately, that left you with a frizzy Leo with more hair spun out of control than you knew what to do with. 

He blindly searched for the towel behind him without turning his head, yanking it away when he felt it in his fingers. 

"Do it myself…" he mumbled croakily, like a rusted music box. 

"Alright." You said, slightly offended. You held your hands in front of you dramatically, watching Leo wrap himself with the towel.

He looked so frail like this, on the bathroom floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. His scrawny frame hardly gave him any weight either, even if he was above six foot. You wondered if he really could hurt you, if-- he ever had the urge, to stab you with the rusty razor blade you watched him grip after he came out of the walls once company left. 

How long would it be? Until he snapped,  until one argument was just too much, and you were no longer his favorite person in the world. Tonight was one of those nights, where you imagined yourself bleeding out on the floor, Leo standing above you with that blade, or perhaps a knife from the kitchen-- the one you noticed had gone missing a few days prior.

Your fear wasn't out of place despite how many times you tried to rationalize how stupid it was. 

Several hours earlier, before Leo was as clean as he was now, you had a guest over. 

It was an old university friend, a guy you met in your first year during some odd end prerequisite or math class-- You couldn't remember. But it didn't matter, at least not to Leo. 

The moment the "intruder" sat down, you heard Leo's presence shift behind him. You could see his black eyes peering in and out of the holes in the dining room, sounds of his sporadic shuffling echoing throughout the house. You cringed everytime your friend looked up and around himself in confusion, curious of the noise. 

"It's just rats," you cover, kicking the wall behind you with a force that should've knocked down the drywall. The sound of Leo letting out a thump of retaliation nearly made your smile crack.

 You had rescued your university pal several times over the course of that night, finding the dead bugs in his drink before he could've noticed, and shutting Leo back into his hiding spots anytime you saw his hand or leg peek through, when he occasionally got the courage to try and dispose of the 'threat.'

It wasn't until your guest had asked to use the bathroom however, that Leo managed to gain a win. Cursing and yelling from the locked door made you panic, the few minutes of silence in the living room having seemingly tricked you of peace. You should’ve known that silence never meant a good thing. 

Sprinting to the bathroom, you got there in time to find your old friend covered head to do in dust and dirt, the bathroom vent still emitting a cloud of grey. Dust fell from the vent, spraying with the blow of the air conditioning. 

"Stop!" You screamed, kicking the back of the bathroom wall multiple times in retaliation. The dust immediately lessened, flecks still falling into your hair. You grunted and cursed, seeing the disaster your bathroom had become and the filth your friend was left in. 

It was safe to say you escorted him quickly out thereafter, blaming the “malfunction” on your worse for wear vent ducts. His confused expression lingered as you walked him out the door. Your horrible cover ups had you questioning whether or not he was convinced but thankfully there seemed to be some sort of unspoken understanding-- maybe he knew you had to be going through something from how odd your behavior was all night-- or maybe it was just misplaced pity.

 Either way, you were relieved to watch him exit the door with a washcloth you knew you’d never get back, telling him to be safe on his way home with a wry smile. 

Shutting that door was the biggest relief ever. The last person you'd want to know about your odd roomate situation was one of the few people in the world who had preconceived standards of you. 

You had never worried about Leo when you had groups of friends over; he never dared to leave from his hiding spot when more than one foreign person entered the house. But this time, it had been a single unknown entity, and a male one at that. You felt the realization hit you directly in the gut as your back laid against that cool wooden door, the sounds of Leo leaving one of his more trickier, less clean hiding spots echoing in the house.

"Leo?" You called out, a slight inflection of annoyance in your voice. 

You watched him crawl out of the large vent in your hallway, the metal grate coming off as two dirty hands forced it to the floor. Leo shimmied his way out of the tiny crawlspace, clouds of dirt coming with him as his legs finally came free. 

Scrambling up, the male blew dust out of his mouth, wobbly getting to his feet. With a sly glare and a satisfied expression, Leo looked towards to you silently; smugly. 

Pinching his ear and dragging him to the bathtub had been your first approach at reprimanding him; but it had done nothing to deter him. Leos silentness and resentful, pouting face left you to scold a brick wall, his rigidness extending to his body's heavy limbs and sluggish pace. 

Even now while slowly rubbing the towel back and forth on his scalp, his face turned away defiantly. 

A quiet moment passed as you watched him scrub himself dry. 

"I just… I don't understand why you have to act this way." 

Leo stopped. His head had been hanging low, thin wrists resting on his knees as water droplets rolled down the ends of his hair. His hand-me-down stretched pajamas covered his chest and thighs. You never thought an old pair of basketball shorts and a faded grey shirt would look so good on him, but you couldn't help to linger on his fingers and the curve of his neck muscles. 

Without warning Leo stood up, pushing off the ground with one hand as he held the towel loosely in the other. 

"What're you doing?" You question.

He wouldn't face you; his mask prosthetic was left on the edge of the tub, and without it-- well, it was impossible to make eye contact with him.

Leo reached for the light witch next to the shut bathroom door, flipping it without a word.

As soon as you saw him pull the light switch the color drained from your face. 

You didn't speak, waiting in the dark to see what Leo's next move would be. Maybe he hid that Razor blade somewhere in his clothes, and was aiming it at you right this second. 

"If you're gonna--"

"Shh." A voice hushed. 

The warmth of flesh was pressed against your lips. It was a finger; hot breath fanned above you,  the finger on your lips turning to a hand that cupped your cheek. Your face was held so securely, being tipped upwards as he stood leering above you. The bathroom was quiet save for the dripping of the bath pipe, and Leo's heavy breathing. 

Leo reached for you, awkwardly climbing atop your lap. He stumbled at first, but the way he curled his arms around your back, you felt like you couldn't let him go.

His nose nestled into the crook of your neck, crumpling into you like an animal looking for warmth. 

"I don't share…Don't like it.." he mumbled.

"What?"

"Things, my things.." He started, the sounds of his labored breaths hitting your ear. "Don't like it when… strangers touch… my things."

"Wai--Leo!" 

You couldn't help but search for his eyes in the dark, doing a happy little wiggle with him in your arms.

"Your voice has improved so much!" You beamed. He hadn’t spoken since the incident, and before that-- well, it took a lot to get him where he was.

“See, I knew pushing you would pay off.” You beamed, gloating in the feeling of success after remembering all the painful vocabulary lessons and hours of his stubborn behavior when you refused to answer his nonverbal pleads. 

Leo’s quietness as you pinched his ear beneath his fluff of loose curls gave you time to snap back to reality-- remembering the words he just spoke. Leo basked in the praise, gripping onto your damp shirt as he ignored your change in expression. 

The obvious possessiveness made you nearly cringe; this is exactly what you were trying to avoid. 

“But Leo, I’m not just yours- I’m everybody’s. There are other people my time has to be shared with--”

You were cut off with the flick of an all too familiar razor blade, twirling in Leos fingers.

“Then….I’ll kill them.” 

“....Kill?”

Leo leaned up, bringing his face closer to yours than he’d ever done before.

“I… wanna kill. Him. Kill….all of them..” His eyes were wide in the dark, and you could see the faint outline of the scars running down his face. You stared hard into his eyes, witnessing the fear and paranoia in them. “They’ll take.. You away. He will.” His throat was getting raspier, more raw. 

“Leo, you know you can’t say things like that..” You softened. He sounded so small, you could hardly believe his words. But in the back of your mind, alarm bells and bright red warning signs were going off. 

You reached for his face, hoping to hold it in your hands, feel the warmth of his skin. But Leo stopped you, holding your wrists. He rejected you from touching his face, again; had things truly changed? Had you made any progress with him?

And like clockwork, Leo reached for his mask, by the bathtub, sitting comfortably on your lap as he faced you. 

He adjusted the prosthetic on his face, resting it snugly as the back clipped. 

“You really wanna stop me from kissing you that badly?” You joked. 

But then the mask was lifted, just slightly, as Leos lips came closer for yours. Now that you brought the idea up, he wouldn’t let it go. 

“Kiss..” He mumbled, trying to reach for your face.

“Ah ah,” You waved a finger at him. “Don’t think I’m going soft after what you just said.” Leo let you push your two fingers against his lips, puckering them. “We’ve talked about this; what did I say?”

“Killing is….it is,” 

“It’s wrong, Leo.” 

“Its.. wrong.” He whined, bringing your other hand to his chest. He didn’t want it to be wrong, he wanted you to let him run wild and do what he knew he needed to do--”

“Promise me, Leo.” You pulled your hand slightly away. “Promise me you won’t.. Hurt anyone. Okay?”

He went quiet, letting a small grunt out as you kept pulling away the longer he stayed quiet. 

“Say it.”

“Fine… okay.” He croaked. 

You went limp and let him hold you close to him, his face leaning close as he looked for your approval. 

“Kiss..?” He mumbled again, following where your head turned to catch your lips. 

“Only because you’re finally being good..” You let him grab your chin like a cat pawing at you, his other hand nestled into your hair. “But you really don’t deserve this, especially after toni--”

You were cut off with a hungry lick, Leo’s mouth twisting against yours as the mask bumped against your nose. He lifted it just a bit higher, concealing only half of his face as he leaned deeper into you. His mouth was as warm as usual, but you could feel his warn down jealousy still through the rush of his lips.You wondered if you should really be rewarding him now after all he tried to pull. 

 A guttural purr released from his throat when he broke free from your mouth with a huff, running his hand down your back. He tried to pull your hair out of your face with his free hand, leaning for another kiss. 

“Wait Leo,” You put a hand in front of your lips, the other out with your palm up. “Give it to me first.”

Leo let out a dramatic sigh. He sat for a moment, stubbornly waiting to see if you’d really push him or let it go. 

“Come on now,” You beckoned with your hand. 

Huffing with frustration, Leo took as slow as possible to pull the razor blade from his pants.

[angelmichelangelo]

this was fun to write :D thanks for the prompt @lydjachan :)

x

Snip. Snip. Scissors skim along the back of his head, brought down just a half inch over graying fur, April is sure to keep her hand steady as hacks away at the rat’s hair. “I must thank you again, Ms O’Neil,” Splinter says quietly, voice low and rumbled, clearly in a more relaxed trance than he’d anticipated when he’s asked her quietly if she were any good at cutting hair – or in this matter, fur. “Don’t sweat it,” she’s batting off his praises with slight embarrassment. “Though, I hope you know that I’m not the best groomer there is. I clipped my cousin's dog once and he ended up with a bald spot or two.” She clicks her tongue, feeling a heat rush to her cheeks as she lowers the scissors away from her head and catches his eyes in the mirror they’re perched before. “Sorry,” she says rather sheepishly. “Maybe not the best story to tell when I’m already at work back here.” Splinter laughs softly, eyes sliding shut, a true testimony to his trust in her. “It is alright.” A pause, and a breath. “I assure you, you cannot be any worse than what my children have tried over the years.” April laughs, combing through a long part of fur at the nape of his neck, holding it between her fingers and cutting little tufts of it falling into her lap. “Boy, is that a sight I wouldn’t want to see,” she says, trying to picture any one of the boys with dainty little hairdressing scissors or with any kind of instruments that they usually did not wield. Sure Leonardo could rock twin blades but she wasn’t sure she’d trust him with something as dangerous as an electric razor. Splinter hums. “Neither was the state of my poor head,” he comments. 

Snip. Snip. More fur falls away, a more leveled out look as it all starts to fun evenly. A flutter of pride dances about in her chest as she rocks back on her heels to momentarily admire her work so far. “I mean, I guess anybody that doesn’t have to deal with hair themselves wouldn’t quite understand the importance of a good haircut,” she then muses as she runs her fingers through one patch of fur, straightening it out before snipping it away. “Or a bad one for that matter.” She adds darkly. Splinter chuckles warmly, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes, he opens his eyes to watch April through the reflection. “That is true,” he tells her with a fond smile. “Though, I did start to wonder when perhaps all the… questionable haircuts they had given me was simply an act of rebellion.” His eyes slide shut again, tipping his head back so April can reach the top of it. “A coup, of sorts against me since they were, and are, very much hairless.”April laughs harder now, pulling her scissors away so as to not accidentally make him hairless too, she looks at Splinter through the mirror and tips her head sideways, her own hair falling over her shoulder. “Gosh, don’t tell me that, Splints,” she says, only a touch of seriousness to her tone. “I’ll have to start wearing a hat or a helmet down here. Save me from falling victim too.” Splinter nods carefully. “All I am saying,” he says gently. “Is that if Raphael proposes for you to wear your hair in a, um, what is it called now… mohawk? Then trust in me to say no.” That has April fully tipped back with laughter now, enough to draw Donatello out of his lab still wearing his goggles; he tears them away from his face to frown at the pair. “Is he bitching about us again?” He asks April. Splinter doesn’t open his eyes at him, but he is smirking. His tail swishes about contently. “Hey,” April says when she’s stopped her hysterics. “That’s the rules of the salon. You gotta have a good bitch, Don, it’s worth more than the haircut itself!” Donnie situates his hands on his hips, clearly put out by this, he scowls at his father and then pouts right at April because he’s fifteen and such a dork, she thinks. “I gave you bad bangs, one time!” He exclaims before stomping out. This time it’s Splinter’s turn to laugh it out. And fifteen minutes later when Michelangelo comes trotting into the room, wearing a rather ratty and mangled looking blonde wig that they’d clearly salvaged from some dumpster dive some time ago, twisting a straggly strange of platinum plastic around a single finger, asking April, “Can you slot me in next, Apes? I got some hot gossip about a certain rat I need dishing out,” She can’t help laugh again, catching Splinter’s fond, loveable expression through the mirror after she shuns the poor turtle out, his father’s expression reading with all the affection in the world, “I love my idiot sons.”

[prismaticpichu]

Seph decides to get a haircut. He’s thinking of a traditional boy cut, but opinions vary. How would the gang, or any of them, style his hair before the potential cut and what is Seph’s reaction?

Shshshshdhd omg!! That is an ADORABLE prospect 😂 One I kindaaaa picture going like this:

~

A Cut Above the Rest ✂️ ✨

The Boyz™️, upon receiving a text message that Sephiroth wants a change of style, usher him into a chair in the bathroom like a bunch of squealing sorority sisters

Angeal: Alright, alright. I’m thinking we maybe do a mullet? It would look rather nice to get those bangs out of his eyes.

Genesis: A mullet?? Are you crazy?! You’re gonna chop ALL that hair away…? I say we gotta keep at least until his shoulders.

Zack: No no no! He said he wanted a “traditional boy cut”. That’s no longer than his chin!

Genesis: CHIN? Do you know how CURSED that would look?

Zack: He wants a new look!! What’s the difference between hair to his shoulders and knees?

Genesis: Oh, I don’t know… only about EIGHT inches?

Angeal: Hmm… According to Moogle, mullet hair cuts help “emphasize individuality”

Genesis: Alright, Zack. Hand me the hairband.

Zack: No! -_-

Zack: You’re gonna make him look like Sandra Bullock!

Genesis: Who the fuck is Sandra Bullock???

Angeal: Oooh. We can even make the mullet a little poofy~

Genesis: Zack! Give me the ban— HOLY IFRIT PUT DOWN THE RAZOR.

Meanwhile, Sephiroth sits silently in the chair, listening to the three monkeys go apeshit behind him. In his pocket lies an old photograph he had meant to pull out, an aged military snapshot he had meant to show for reference before asking his dear friends that he wanted to change. What had stopped him from fishing it out, he wondered…? What had made his hands tense and heart twist, paralyzing his digits mid-dig through his coat and subduing the “like this” in his throat to a mere “you decide; I don’t care.”

Because he very much did care, really, if he was going to tell the truth.

He cared very much.

He cared very, very much.

So what on Gaia had driven him to lie���?

Zack: Alrght, Seph! Let’s get this party started!

Genesis: OH NO YOU DON’T—

He tackles Zack and the razor to the floor

Angeal: Ah! Here’s the scissors. Now I think a good mullet starts from—

Sephiroth: Guys, stop.

Angeal stops the blades in its track, just a few centimeters away from his hair; Genesis stops pinning Zack to the floor; Zack stops trying to shave Genesis*

Sephiroth: I think… I think I wanna do this on my own.

~~~

Genesis, Angeal, and Zack, all stand anxiously before the closed bathroom door, waiting for Sephiroth to re-emerge anew.

Genesis: Goddess… I hope he knows he’s doing.

Angeal: Relax, Gen. I’m sure he’s not doing anything stupid

The toilet is heard flushing

Angeal: …Did he just flush his hair down the toilet?

Genesis: Perhaps it was only a smidgen.

the toilet is heard flushing a second time

Genesis: I’m calling Lazard

Suddenly, the knob is heard rattling

Zack: Oooh! Here he comes!!!!

Genesis: 👀 👀 👀

Angeal: 🙏 🙏 🙏

…

…

And the door opens, revealing a completely unchanged Sephiroth, his cascading silver hair still gushing down to his knees and bangs still spilling over his eyes

Genesis:

Angeal:

Zack:

The man takes a deep breath, bracing himself

Sephiroth: I… apologize for all the trouble I put you through. But I’ve come to the conclusion that I would rather not change at this time—at, at least… not in terms of my appearance. I do hope you all understand.”

And he closes his eyes, bracing even harder

…

…

Abd he opens them again upon feeling Angeal’s warm hand on his shoulder

Angeal: Hey… that’s completely fine, friend. Nothing’s better than the Sephiroth classic.

Sephiroth blinks a few times, stunned into momentary silence

Sephiroth: …Really?

Zack: Of course, buddy! We love you this way!!

Sephiroth: But, your reactions… you all shepherded me into the bathroom so quick—

Genesis: Sephiroth, chum, don’t be a nimrod. We were just thrilled you asked us to help you.

Zack. Yeah!! Like Genesis said! Do you KNOW how protective you usually are of that stuff of your head?? It meant the world to us when you texted us asking for a cut! Like… like we passed some wall of yours :}

Angeal squeezes his shoulder.

Angeal: Exactly as the others said. You’re our best friend, Seph. And it means the world when we get to spend time with you.

Sephiroth remains silent for several beats, staring at all of his treasured companions, gazing at each of their warm and welcoming and accepting countenances with a swell of velvety warmth in his heart that is too magical and too precious to even begin to describe

And it’s in that moment, the old picture of himself on Rhadore still nestled in his pocket, that he realizes just why he wanted to stay the same.

He didn’t want to relive the past; he didn’t want to try and bring back those memories.

Because he had even more precious ones in the present.

His eyes beginning to glisten, Sephiroth swipes the Mako-lit emeralds, shaking his head with a touched smirk and sweeping those gushing bangs from his visage

Sephiroth: …What did I do to deserve you all?

Zack wraps his arms around him, squeezing joyfully and tight

Zack: Awww. We love you too, Seph

Genesis slings an arm over his other shoulder

Genesis: For once, Zack is right.

And they bask in the warmth, four friends together, inseparable and unchanging forever*

…

…

Angeal: Wait, hold on a moment—

Angeal: If it wasn’t your hair, what did you flush down the toilet?

For the first time in a long while, a genuine and innocent smile graces Sephiroth’s lips

Sephiroth: Oh, merely the razor and scissors

AngealZackGenesis: HUH—?

And the water sweeps along the bathroom floor, a hungry tide of chaos

[butwhyduh]

You know that Bruce Wayne had an emo MySpace page. Black background with obnoxious yellow writing. He definitely did the emo razor blade haircut and fingerless gloves look. He probably had some cringe quote like ‘death is darkness’ Alfred had to put up with his MCR phase.

[captmickey]

PROMPT:

Setting is somewhere in Puerto Pollo. I love that place. You decide what's going on.

Lucas clung tightly to his dad’s hand as they walked the cobblestones of Puerto Pollo. With the way the sun was beaming down, he looked around the town, noting the liveliness as the townsfolk who were going about their day, the occasional chicken that were clucking about and the seagulls soaring above. 

Puerto Pollo was very different from Melee Island.

Turning a corner, his dad knocked on the door, hearing from the otherside a gruff ‘come on in’. He was usually brave about new places, but something about this man’s voice had him slightly nervous. Lucas felt his mother’s hand on his head, giving it a slight brush to grab his attention as he looked up at her.

“You have nothing to worry about, it’s just a barber shop.” Elaine reassured him. 

“I’m not worried.” Lucas said, trying to puff out his chest. “Just being… cautious of new places.”

“Caution is not such a bad idea with these three.” Guybrush said just quietly enough for Elaine to hear.

She chuckled as Guybrush opened the door and stepped inside the shop, where three men were tending to different things. One stood in the back of the room, cleaning various blades with a rag that could use a wash, another was sharpening some of the razors used to shave, though his back was turned to the Threepwood family as they walked in. But the last man, one that easily towered over his own dad, looked at them and smiled widely. He cleaned his hand on a towel and walked over to them, bellowing out a laugh.

“Well, well, well! If I live and breathe, Guybrush Threepwood!” The man greeted, slapping a strong hand against Guybrush’s back. “Good ta see ya, lad!”

“Hi Haggis.” Guybrush greeted, wincing slightly at the hand slap. “Good to see you too.”

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” The man cleaning the blade smirked, walking over to them. Upon closer inspection, Lucas noticed the man was sporting a patch eye and now wasn’t sure if to point out the pun about sore eyes.

But the one sharpening the blade in the back, he looked directly at Lucas, his expression not shifting. 

“I see you expanded the Threepwood Clan.” The shorter man said, Lucas realizing it was his gruff voice he heard earlier.

“Expanded?” Haggis raised a brow and looked over, spotting the small Threepwood. His smile widened as he lowered himself to be somewhat at eye level with him. “Ay! A wee Boybrush! What’s yer name, lad?”

Lucas let out a small yelp and hid further behind his dad’s legs, clinging tightly to the fabric as he felt a gentle hand on his head.

“It’s alright, kiddo. They’re friends.” Guybrush reassured him. “Remember the story about the gold statue?”

“Hopefully you told the story in a positive light.” The man with the eye patch chuckled.

He looked at the three men from behind, trying to be brave like he said he was. Glancing at his parents, he saw the reassurance from them, how Elaine with a smile mouthed ‘go on’ to him.

“L-Lucas…” he answered quietly. 

“Pleasure ta meet ya, Lucas. I’m Haggis. That there is Van Helgen and the quiet one there is Bill.” Haggis introduced. 

Lucas waved and blushed a little when he heard both his parents chuckle. 

“What brings ya three here?” Haggis asked, looking up at Guybrush.

“Well, kiddo here needs his first haircut.” Guybrush explained, ruffling Lucas’s hair slightly. “Figured who better than the three best barbers I know in the Caribbean?”

Haggis chuckled and stood back up properly. “Aye, I can see the lad could use a wee bit of a trim.”

“B-but I want to grow it out!” Lucas protested. “I want it to be like yours, dad!”

Van Helgen looked at Lucas, tilting his head before his good eye widened in understanding. He cleared his throat and kneeled down to be at eye level with him.

“Don’t you worry, we’re not going to trim too much. Just enough so it can grow to be healthy.” Van Helgen explained. “Besides, your father comes here from time to time to get his hair trimmed.”

“Aye, last time he fergot to visit, it was a rat's nest.” Haggis recalled.

“It wasn’t that bad! Just… very long.” Guybrush blushed.

“Too long.” Elaine muttered.

“It was longer than your mother’s that he constantly got it tangled.” Van Helgen whispered to Lucas, warranting a chuckle from the child.

They went over to the barber’s chair where Guybrush helped Lucas sit on it. Gently draping a cloth around him, he looked to be enveloped by the fabric with only his head peeking out of it. Lucas looked around nervously with how he was shifting slightly in his chair and looked over at his parents for help, especially when Haggis placed a strong hand on his shoulder and he let out a startled yelp with the chair being raised up one, two, three clicks.

“Mom? Dad?” He said in a scared voice.

“It’s fine, we’re right here.” Elaine said, going over to hold his hand. “It’s just a trim.”

“Lad’s never gotten a haircut?” Haggis asked.

Guybrush shook his head. He opened his mouth to begin explaining but was immediately halted by Bill as he harshly cleared his throat.

Lucas hated to admit it, but he felt nervous. More so than usual. He looked at his reflection, realizing just how small he was as Haggis leaned slightly on the chair and looked at the reflection as well, which, by extension, was to look directly at Lucas’s eyes. 

“First time’s always scary.” Haggis says. “But it’s nothin’ ta really be scared of, lad.”

“I can’t help it…” Lucas admitted.

“I know. And I know you want to keep yer hair’s length like your papa… but it can’t be helpful when playin’ with friends now, ey?”

He thought of all the games he played, how his bangs got in the way… his parents tried to tie it up, tried to use a bandana or a headband, but it would slip off after a while. Lucas frowned and shook his head.

“It’s not.” He admitted. “It’s… kinda annoying.”

Haggis smiled. “Yer papa said the same thing when we dealt with the rat’s nest.”

Lucas, at that, smiled. “Yeah?”

“Aye. Now, I’ll show you what I’m gonna do. Every step, so you can see it’s not that scary.” He promised, starting to move his hair and trying to show how it will look in the end. “Starting with… moving yer hair as such, trimming it this much and even keepin’ some of the length.”

“And if you’re startled and need a moment, just say the word.” Elaine added.

“The word being orange.” Guybrush joked, warranting an elbow from Haggis. But the two laughed.

Haggis shook his head and looked at Lucas. “So, ready for yer hair adventure, wee one?”

Lucas looked at his reflection, somehow able to see what Haggis had in mind and nodded with a shaky breath. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Atta lad.” Haggis smiled and moved to grab a comb and scissors.

As Haggis got to work, Lucas looked around the shop. Occasionally, his head being moved by the Scotsman to go back into place as he combed and trimmed while his parents stood back and chatted with Van Helgen and Bill, letting Haggis focus on his work. With slight boredom, he wiggled his feet from under the cloth, seeing the fabric move to and fro.

“Um… Haggis?” He spoke up.

“Aye, lad?”

“Why are there so many chickens on Puerto Pollo?” Lucas asked.

Haggis paused for a moment and let out a laugh. “Excellent question, but I believe the answer ta be why the island is called as such.”

“Hm?”

“Pollo means chicken, kiddo.” Guybrush answered with a smile.

“Oh!” Lucas’s eyes lit up. “So… so Port Chicken!”

“Somethin’ like it.” Haggis laughed, continuing to cut a few strands. 

“So were the chickens here first? Or the people?”

Haggis, once more, paused and glanced over at Elaine and Guybrush. “Curious one, isn’t he?”

“Just like Guybrush.” Van Helgen laughed.

“Boybrush.” Bill said, though whether he smiled or not was a mystery.

Haggis however laughed and continued to work.

“Well, what is it? Chicken or people?” Lucas asked.

“I believe it’s the chicken, sweetie.” Elaine answered for the barbers. “When I governed this island for a bit, I looked into it… was curious about it myself.”

“Ooh, learned something new!” Lucas smiled, now moving his feet with excitement.

More bits of gold fell off and eventually the session came to an end, Haggis ripped off the cloth and used a small brush to clean off any strands of hair from Lucas’s shoulders. Pleased with his work, Haggis stood back and let the child admire his own reflection.

“Whoa…!” Lucas examined slightly touching his newly trimmed hair. “It feels so much lighter!”

“A good trim will feel like that.” Haggis said. “And the bangs are nowhere near yer eyes now. I also kept some of the length, see?”

Lucas reached out and touched the back of his hair, smiling at how he could feel some of the length still. And with it, a small bow. He beamed and looked at the barber with absolute joy.

“You tied it!”

“Aye, I did. Been wantin’ to do a bow since yer papa’s wedding.”

“Thank you, Mister Haggis!” Lucas said gleefully.

“See? Not so bad.” Guybrush said, walking over as Elaine offered to pay in thanks for their services. “Looking really sharp.”

“Yeah!” He looked back at his reflection, smiling. The place was nice, the people were even nicer. Lucas touched a bit more of his bangs, understanding now why his dad referred to the Barber Quartet as good people. “Dad? I like Puerto Pollo.”

[cho-aaacho]

(Flufftober 2023) Playing With Hair

Main Masterlist I Archive of Our Own

Flufftober 2023 Masterlist I Prompts List

Tags : Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Playing With Hair, Flufftober 2023, Reader is genderless

(Flufftober 2023 Day 6)

The bathroom around Leon appeared as an ethereal mirage with a hazy fog of hot steam that distorted the mirror's reflection. His eyes, the color of beautiful marble blue, wandered on a journey across his face, uncovering small details on his face that refused to fade. Oh. Yes. Those eyes are precious gemstones.

For a few seconds, he caught himself in his magnetic pull, his finger gently tucked into his natural dirty-blond hair, as though worried they might transform into silver white. His fingertips grazed his lips, tracing their contours and feeling the warmth that emanated from them.

"Do I look that old?" His voice is a mere whisper. He turned his gaze from razor blades to the mirror, grappling with the question of his aging.

A rosy blush painted his cheek after hearing someone tease him about the subtle hints of grayish hair. Thirty years had arrived at his face, and yet the discovery of those silver threads had stirred a concern within him. He knew, deep down, that this was only a natural part of being human.

"How long will you stare at that mirror, Leon? Until your reflection talked to you?" A familiar voice chimed in. "You scare me sometimes."

"Oh, you... you want to use the bathroom?"

With a mischievous smile, you playfully shook your head, finding a cute expression on Leon's face. As you got closer to him, your gaze swept across his face, and your fingers gently swirled through his flowing hair and you smiled warmly. "Your hair is much longer than I remember."

Your voice is a gentle whisper. "Does your mission make your hair grow faster?"

He blew his hair away from his forehead with a sigh. "Uh, I don't know about that. But you were right; my hair is growing longer, and it starts to hurt my eyes sometimes."

You cup his cheeks, your eyes locking onto his, trying to find a mystery in his eyes. Later, a mischievous grin escaped your lips. "Dear Leon. Stay still; I'll help you."

You hop over to the sink, tugging playfully at his bathrobe until the gap between you is reduced to mere inches. His giggle filled the air, tickled by your cuteness.

With a delicate touch, you retrieve a bobby pin, deftly securing a few strands of his hair between your fingers; sometimes you pinch his cheek for a playful tease. The bathroom fills with his gentle hum as you proceed to trim his hair.

Leon, enthralled by your presence, finds himself caught in the romance of your beauty. His heart is beating with a hint of nervousness as your breath grazes his face, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that clouds his thoughts. He has the urge to steal a kiss, but he fears the consequences for his hair.

With a final touch, you announce, "Finish. Now, you're as fresh as a rookie, my dear."

He dashed to the mirror, where his reflection stared back at him. He's still the same man. The same hair color, but totally different haircuts. You are not an expert. But Leon knows one thing...

"You are so talented." He said that and placed a kiss on your jawline. "I don't need Chris to trim my hair, haha."

"Wait, Redfield, is your hairdresser? No wonder your hairstyles always look... weird."

He pouted. "I'm not weird, darling."

[haldenlith]

Binary Stars Ch 2

Still in prison with Uldwyn. I feel like this chapter is a little slower.

The appointment came, and he was escorted along by the usual sight: two armed guards geared up well enough that most people would think twice about attempting any funny business. Then again, he’d be the first to say he wasn’t “most people”, but that was beside the point. He had no reason to try anything. What would he gain but a few broken bones? And the promise of escape wasn’t even alluring.

There was nothing out there for him.

He sat down in the barber’s chair. Upon noticing the exact same jumpsuit as he was clad in on the barber, his muscles tensed. The FB wasn’t a particularly big guy. The red paint on his plating had worn down on the edges, revealing the gunmetal base underneath. He was busy prepping the tools of the trade, pausing to regard Uldwyn’s reflection in the unnervingly immaculate mirror. “Relax. Unlike those other idiots, I’m not interested in stabbing the biggest baddest dog in the kennel.” He held up a straight razor, inspecting it. The bright, harsh lights glinted off the well-honed edge of the blade. “Nor do I know anyone that fell victim to your regime. So quite honestly, I don’t care. I get more out of cutting your hair as opposed to your throat.” He turned to face Uldwyn. “Now, if I recall correctly from the magazine covers, you used to have quite the trendy haircut, so I imagine what I’m tending to is that shag rug on your face.” Uldwyn nodded. “Good. That’s easy.”

Uldwyn settled more into the chair, letting the red FB put a cover on him to catch the hair, and do the necessary prep. The shaving cream was a little warm, and smelled faintly of lavender. Clearly he was on some sort of work-release program, and was content with it. His hands were practiced, and the blade glided along Uldwyn’s olive-toned skin. The man worked in silence (utter silence, given that he no longer breathed), and Uldwyn quite simply had nothing to say. It was just… easier. Uldwyn had no memories of visiting a barbershop back on Pluto, so this was a slightly new experience for him. His face was something he always tended to himself, and his old haircut was easy enough to self-manage with a good pair of clippers and some scissors. Having the ability to see behind himself certainly helped.

What he could remember, vaguely, was Mara scolding him for preening too long in front of the mirror. Not that she was much better.

When it was all said and done, Uldwyn looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was… strange. It was his face. His eyes. Even though his hair was shorter than he was accustomed to, it was still well on its way to returning to the old length. It already half covered his ears. That was his reflection, wrinkles and all. Still… part of him felt… foreign. Fragmented. He didn’t feel like himself, and there was a sliver of him that almost questioned the reflection being him.

Seeing himself in the mirror at least informed him of one thing – judging from his hair growth, he’d been there at least a month. Maybe two.

He returned to his cell with his hair still somewhat damp from the showers. As the door re-engaged behind him, Sparky appeared. He shimmered happily, doing a quick orbit around Uldwyn. “You look nice!”

“Thanks.”

“Do you feel better?” He wandered over to the bed, taking a seat.

“I guess.” He found one of those fragmented parts of him feeling sad that the barber hadn’t been so inclined to slice his jugular. It’d meant freedom from this, at least in death.

“Does your brain always do that?” Sparky asked, floating a bit closer.

“Do what?” Uldwyn inquired, arching a bushy black brow.

“Think about dying. I mean, I guess it’s nothing special. A lot of people here think like that, but it… it doesn’t make it right.” He merely grunted softly in reply to Sparky. “I mean it! No matter the reason! I like to think the world is better with people in it. Humans are nice.”

“Really?” He replied skeptically. “Even those of us that are monsters?” Sparky hummed softly.

“… I… I’m not sure. But… I know that you feel things about what you did. I can hear those feelings sometimes. And from the bits I saw, it’s true, you weren’t good or nice. I’ll acknowledge that, but – but it doesn’t mean you deserve to die or suffer eternally over it!” Another unconvinced grunt sounded from Uldwyn as he scooted back on the cot, nestling up against the wall.

“I’m afraid there are a lot of people you’ll have to convince on that one,” he replied, letting his amber eyes rest on the clock. His vision glitched momentarily. The collar that was locking down and suppressing his augments was interfering with his eyes. At least they still worked most of the time, even if the more interesting functions were suppressed. He had a while before dinner. His eyes skimmed the room. White walls of featureless biocrete and little else.

“Well I will! Just from talking with you for a bit, I don’t think you’re deserving of that, and I stand by it,” Sparky stated with conviction. Uldwyn continued examining the room idly. No seams. This must’ve been poured all at once. It had to be reinforced, no doubt. The lack of a single hairline crack was a little impressive. Then there was the doors. An interesting design. An interlocking mechanism. He could tell from the sound that something else also engaged when the pieces were finished locking together. Another piece? Bars perhaps. The engineering side of his brain buzzed as he idly analyzed the room. Not because he was planning an escape, but for lack of better to do.

The real killer of solitary confinement was the boredom.

White walls of featureless biocrete, and nothing else.

At least he had a conversation partner now, even if the little ball was suspect, and a little too optimistic. Sparky floated closer than he had up to that point, only a scant few inches from Uldwyn’s face. “You really do look a lot better clean shaven, you know. It makes you look younger!”

“I know.” He pondered the power source behind the mechanisms. The place had to be running on solar. He didn’t detect any magitek in the area, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. They could be using shielding in an attempt to hide where the main generators are. That’d be wise for avoiding –

“So what are we going to do for the rest of the day?” Sparky bobbed in the air.

“We could try staring at a wall. Riveting stuff. Or we could try having another mental breakdown. That takes up a lot time. Fantastic time waster. Ten out of ten,” Uldwyn replied sarcastically. The ball of wispy light that was Sparky’s body flattened out as he groaned.

“You don’t have to be like that, you know. I was just asking.”

“You have the luxury of flying in and out of these cells. I don’t. So, my apologies if my countenance is a little… sardonic.” The ball of light groaned again and floated around in a figure eight before settling into a spot.

“Well, you know, you look like you’re pretty fit. I’ve heard keeping active for you beings helps with mood. Maybe a little exercise wouldn’t hurt?” Sparky perked. “Oh! Or maybe you could tell me about those tattoos you have on your arm. I’ve heard that those are permanent – tattoos, that is – so they must have a story behind them if you’re willing to put them on your body permanently.” Uldwyn looked down at his right arm, and the flowing lines of black ink that wrapped around his bicep, and vanished up behind the bright orange sleeve of the prison jumpsuit.

“Contrary to popular belief, the tattoos on my arm are just… tattoos. I got them because I liked them,” he said, letting his arm fall. His shoulder quietly popped, making him wrinkle his nose. Maybe some stretches and a little calisthenics wouldn’t be such a bad idea afterall.

“Oh, really? No story or anything? Awww,” Sparky replied disappointedly. Uldwyn eyed the little ball of light for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. Without another word, he shrugged off the top part of the jumpsuit and turned to let Sparky have a good look at his back, surprising the little guy with the sight of even more tattoos. The lines of ink that ran like a river all over his shoulder and bicep flowed onto his back as well, their origin point being a large depiction of a black hole, situated right in between his shoulder blades. A pair of kestrels in flight flanked the singularity, while a small, minimalist trio of celestial bodies went down his spine – the Sun, Earth, and Pluto. “Oh! There’s more! Do these have a story?”

“Yes, these do. The black hole is meant to represent the mysteries that I have chased with my sister. We suspect that the Leyflow that cuts through Pluto might have originated from a singularity far and away, but we don’t know for sure. The kestrels are… myself and Mara, fearlessly in flight.” A soft, wry laugh escaped him. “Not even a black hole could pull us from the sky…” He trailed off, his shoulders slumping. “Or that was what I told myself,” he mumbled softly. Sparky floated closer, examining the tattoos. The wisps of light that came off of him gently tickled Uldwyn’s skin. The light was surprisingly warm against his skin. Pleasantly so.

“And these? The planets and stuff.”

Uldwyn perked, pulled briefly from his melancholy. “Oh, I’m used to that being fairly self-explanatory for people, but I guess you’re not… people. The Sun is the center of our solar system, so it’s sort of automatically an important part of my life, even as far out as Pluto. Earth is where the Exodus Green colony ship originated from, where I came from, so… It was my first home. And Pluto, that’s my second home. Well, was. I’m… I’m pretty sure I’m not welcome back there anymore.”

“You don’t know that, Uldwyn.”

“Good point. How silly of me. I’m sure everyone will just conveniently forget the things I inflicted upon them back in the beautiful Kingdom of Elusinia. They were all such tiny little things. Easily brushed aside. But it’s okay Uldwyn, you made a mistake. Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly how it will go if I ever get the chance to return. And while we’re entertaining delusions, I’m sure this whole prison deal is also a misunderstanding. Let me just get up and ask to be let out. I’m sure they’ll listen. Surely,” he dryly replied. Sparky groaned, sinking down a few inches in a degree of exhausted frustration.

“Why are you like this?”

“Stupid suggestions get sarcastic replies.”

“I’m genuinely just trying to help.” Uldwyn looked over his shoulder, back at Sparky.

“I’m still not sure you’re not another sweet lie – a lure on an angler fish just being dangled in front of me.” He returned his gaze to the white wall in front of him. “Then again, I suppose it doesn’t matter, in the end. … You do make decent company, if nothing else. Being otherwise stuck with four white walls as company isn’t particularly great, but this is my home now. I had best get used to it.” Silence settled over the two of them. Uldwyn had nothing else he wanted to waste breath on, and Sparky mulled over how to attack the situation at hand – and perhaps brace himself for more of Uldwyn’s unrelenting sass.

Eventually, with a sigh, Uldwyn turned and slipped off the bed. He took a moment to tie the arms of the jumpsuit around his waist. Lounging topless sounded like a good idea to him, given the stagnant warmth that the recycled oxygen had taken on. An unfortunate side-effect of the sun shining on the facility. Who knew how long it’d be before the end of the “day” on the Moon. He’d lost track of time while he was there. His hair was his best and perhaps only indicator.

He rolled his shoulders and took to doing some stretches. It was something to do.

If he recalled correctly, a day on the Moon lasted approximately 29 Earth-days. His eyes shifted to looking at a different part of the room as he pondered. What was that in Pluto-days? He was far more accustomed to those. The measurement of a “day” was about six Earth-days. Three days of beautiful, twinkling twilight, and then three days (and some change) of velvety foreboding night.

“Oh wow, you’re really flexible,” Sparky marveled while watching Uldwyn go through his routine of stretches. Orange eyes glanced at the little light, but he did not grace him with more sarcasm, this time.

He cocked his head to the side, eyes rolling up to look at the ceiling as he worked the math out in his head. Five Pluto days? He shrugged. He could live with that. It’s not like he could see the sun anyway, but he could certainly feel the effects on the facility. Most likely, when the night cycle started, it’d turn cold.

He leaned down and got into a handstand. At least the ceiling was high up in this place. “Oh, you have very good balance, too.” Sparky left his spot above the bed and made a slow orbit around Uldwyn. The man paid him no mind and took to doing some push-ups. “I can’t help but feel like you’re showing off, though.”

Perhaps it was equal parts boredom and putting on a show for his glowing roommate. Perhaps it was unequal parts. Still, the exercise was nice, and, well…

It was something to do.

The boredom was the real killer.

“… If you’re bored, I might be able to help with that.” Uldwyn paused, arms extended, and angled his head a bit to look generally in the direction of Sparky.

“Oh? Enlighten me.” He then resumed his push-ups.

“Weeeeeeeell, I might be able to convince the system to let you have another one of those credit thingies, aaaaaand maybe you can… get a book or something!” He lowered himself down and folded a leg under himself. Amber eyes narrowed while looking at the little light.

“So you’re telling me you could mess with that terminal this entire time, and you’re just now telling me?” Sparky’s form rippled nervously.

“Ah, well, honestly, I was afraid you’d ask me to bust you out of here, and I’m going to be really honest with you, I don’t think that’d go very well for you. Besides, messing with it doesn’t mean I can hide what I’ve done. The security here might get suspicious if we go too crazy.” Both of Uldwyn’s dark brows shot up and he inclined his head slightly. The ball wasn’t wrong. At least there was some pragmatism knocking around in… whatever he was. He drummed his fingers on the polished floor.

Escape. Funny. He’s already done that sort of thing once. At least back then he had backup and somewhere to go. Now? He’s on his own, and he’d be a dead man walking. The fact of it all hit him all over again and he couldn’t help but bitterly chuckle. Sparky floated a little closer, curious. Uldwyn eyed him once more, examining him. Perhaps he couldn’t always read his mind. How odd. He shook his head and shrugged.

“I guess a book would help pass the time.” A happy hum sounded from Sparky.

“That’s the spirit! Let me give it a shot!” The ball floated over to the panel, and shimmered as he incorporated into the wall. After a moment, the panel lit up a variety of colors, then went dark again. Another uneventful moment went by before Sparky came out of the console, shimmering back to life again. “There. Give it a shot.” Uldwyn narrowed his eyes in skepticism before getting up and sauntering over to the console. Same song, same dance. He pressed his hand to it and, eventually, the AI voice greeted him.

“Inmate #7050, what is your request?”

“Can I request a… book to read?” A pause.

“Inmate #7050, you have one enrichment credit, which is sufficient for one short novel. Would you like to spend it?” Again, both brows shot up. Well, Sparky might be real after all.

“Do I get a choice of book?”

“Negative, you have insufficient reading credits for that option.” Uldwyn scoffed. Of course they’d set it up so that it costs more to have a choice. Bastards.

“Alright. Well, yeah, I’d… I would like to spend my credit and request a novel.” Another pause.

“Affirmative. One short novel will be delivered to you alongside you nightly meal. A restriction has been placed on your account and will be lifted upon return of the book.” He tilted his head to the side.

“Can I ask what book I’m getting, or do I have to pay to know that information, too?”

“Hamlet, by William Shakespeare.” Uldwyn cast his gaze to the side, wrinkling his nose.

“The universe has a shitty sense of humor,” He mumbled. Still, it was better than nothing. He stepped away, returning to his spot in the middle of the cell. Sparky bounced in the air, quite pleased with himself.

“Well?” Uldwyn eyed the ball, pursing his lips. Sparky transitioned to doing an excited figure eight in the air. Uldwyn eventually sighed and shook his head.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Sparky exclaimed happily. Praise! Genuine praise! And no sarcasm! He even got to witness a slow smile spread across Uldwyn’s lips as he watched the happy little entity.

“Well, if you are here to torment me or eat my soul or something, you’re doing a terrible job. BUT, one thing is for certain, you are real. It’s nice to know I’m… not hallucinating.” He popped his neck, glancing off to the side and muttering, “Again.” Sparky paused in his flight, his form rippling thoughtfully.

“Hmm, guess I’ll have to step up my game. I don’t have claws, so I can’t scratch the walls or anything. Oh! I know! I’ve witnessed other humans do this!” Uldwyn resumed his exercise as he arched up a brow, curious what his little friend was going to do. Clearing his “throat”, Sparky did a few vocal tests. “Mimimi miiiii…. And now I present to you… THIS IS THE SONG THAT NEVER ENDS! YES, IT GOES ON AND ON, MY FRIEEEEND!”

Suddenly, he found himself regretting his earlier statement. Apparently torment was a part of Sparky’s repertoire. Uldwyn groaned, rolling his eyes. “Alright! Alright, already! You made your point!”

Sparky zoomed closer to Uldwyn, continuing his song, “And they’ll continue singing it forever just because it is the song that never ends!” Uldwyn swatted at the ball, beginning to laugh.

“STOP! You little bastard!” Another futile, half-hearted swat was delivered, missing Sparky again. Sparky stopped, bobbing in the air. His companion stared up at him…

Smiling.

He’d long since lost track of time. What would normally be extremely inhumane had become bearable thanks to Sparky and his ability to rig the system. How many books had Uldwyn devoured? And the conversations were actually rather nice. Even if Sparky wasn’t human, he still had some interesting insights. Uldwyn sighed and folded his arms behind his head, lounging on the cot, staring up at the featureless ceiling.

There was still a longing there.

His eyes slid closed. His mind fixated on the warmth of his hands, the way his skin felt. The bones underneath. If he focused hard enough, he could just barely feel where bone ended and metal began, so stealthily hidden beneath the skin, reinforcing his knuckles. The gentle thrum of his pulse.

He cracked his eyes open halfway.

Intimacy. Not just sex, necessarily, just… another person. The cold isolation of the biocrete cell was getting to him. At least out there, even a fist to the gut was something. A reminder of being alive, of being real, of other people existing.

He heaved out a sigh.

“Are you okay?” Sparky inquired, floating a few inches above Uldwyn’s body. The man shook his head.

“It’s nothing.” He opened his eyes the rest of the way, focusing on Sparky.

At least he had a friend.

“Hey, you’ve rooted around in here before, but it seems like you don’t always, uh, listen in. Is that just… how it is or…?” He inquired, squinting at the ball in mild confusion. Sparky clearly wasn’t in his head right now, or he wouldn’t have asked if he was okay.

“Well, when your thoughts are really loud or buzzy, I hear them. It’s kind of like I’m – oh how do I put it – it’s like I’m sitting outside of your room or something. Like the door’s closed, and I know you’re in there, but only the loud things make it out to me. When we met, your thoughts were practically shouting. I could just storm on in right now, but… I already poked around inside without permission. It’d be rude to do that again. Well, not just rude, invasive. I’m not like that. I don’t want to be like that.” Uldwyn hummed thoughtfully, mulling the words over.

“A strange traveler, stumbling upon a strange house, stopping to listen to the odd sounds that bleed outside the walls.” He paused. ‘Thoughts were practically shouting.’ “No, not just odd sounds. Screaming. Yeah, I’d stop and investigate, too.”

“You’ve got a way with words, you know that? I wonder if they’d let you have anything to write stuff with. You should be a writer!” Uldwyn smirked, chuckling.

“Funny you say that. I used to tell stories, though my audience was normally children. Still, it was nice to have such a captive audience. The way their eyes just lit up. I didn’t get to do it much, but it was nice.”

“Too busy?” His brows knitted together as he rattled around his own mind. “Busy. Yes. Something like that,” he absently replied.

“Stop filling their heads with nonsense and stop wasting time.”

The one person in the audience he wanted to excite and captivate. But he never did.

“I don’t think it’s nothing.” His eyes refocused on Sparky, who had now drifted closer. Concern tinged his flanged voice. “Do you want to talk about it? You seem kinda distracted.” Did he want to?

Not really.

But…

“Have you ever heard of the idea that twins share a connection?”

“I’ve heard of this concept with humans, yes. It’s fascinating stuff, though from what I’ve seen, I’m not sure it’s true. Or, if it is, you guys tend to act like you don’t understand each other a lot. Humans sure do like arguing.” Like they don’t understand each other. Uldwyn huffed a soft laugh.

“Yeah, I guess that’s part of being human.” He reached out to gently poke the ball of light. It felt strange. Warm. A little prickly. Yet, at the same time, like there was nothing there at all. The light of Sparky’s form rippled.

“Oh! That’s the first time you’ve actually reached out to touch me.” Uldwyn hummed softly.

“If I let you inside the house, could you… ‘see’ what I’m thinking? It’d make explaining what’s on my mind a lot easier. Well, maybe. It’s… It’s probably a little messy up there” A little was an understatement. There were still parts of his mind that felt fuzzy. Nibbled on. Fragmented. Whoever, whatever it was that was masquerading as his sister, it was a rude house guest. Sparky floated downwards, slowly, until he landed on Uldwyn’s chest. His form rippled once again. Uldwyn breathed in, taking in the feeling. The same feeling as when he poked him, but amplified, radiating out from his form across his chest.

It wasn’t unpleasant. Just… unusual.

“You really must not be feeling great if you’re saying that. I… could ‘visit’ for a bit? How about that? I feel like it’d be weird if I suddenly started hanging out there all the time. What we have going is nice and I think you deserve at least a little privacy.”

“Yeah that’s fine. That’ll wo – wait,” Uldwyn narrowed his eyes and peered down at the little ball of light resting on his chest. “What do you mean by, ‘you really must not be feeling great if you’re saying that’?” A few jagged shapes jutted out from Sparky’s form in surprise.

He couldn’t just say ‘because you love hearing yourself talk’, and even ‘you’re very outspoken’ was dangerous, given how keen Uldwyn was at reading between the lines.

“Right, let’s get to it then,” he nervously stated, sinking and vanishing into Uldwyn. It was a strange feeling, like drinking a hot chocolate in winter and licking a battery at the same time, only he could feel it across his whole abdomen. It didn’t last long. “Don’t worry, I’m still here. It’s just easier if I’m, well, closer.” Sparky’s voice was gentler, softer,closer. Impossibly close.Even if they’d talked about it, he didn’t want to alarm Uldwyn. “Now, what’s on your mind?”

What’s on his mind?

He stared up at the ceiling again, and his thoughts drifted.

Connection.

Did they ever actually have it?

A beach of ironsand. The sun setting on the horizon, painting a violet sky with clouds of peach and orange. The ocean lapping at his feet. It was ankle deep.

A memory.

Honey brown eyes staring out at the endless ocean. Two teens dragged out to a research facility in New Zealand for… something. Whatever their mother was researching was lost. Them being there. That was vivid.

A girl of the same height stood a few feet away. Farther away. Her feet weren’t yet in the water. The wind blew through her blonde hair. She, too, stared out at the horizon.

“It’s funny. You look at the horizon and it’s just endless ocean, on and on, like there’s nothing there. But there is something out there. Other islands. Continents,” Uldwyn mused. “I know it’s an illusion and all, but imagine if it was endless? If there was just this endless stretch to explore? New islands, new worlds…” He glanced back at Mara, smiling, excited. His excitement was not mirrored, but amusement did dance in her eyes. “I heard on the news that the colony on Mars is doing really good. It’s been a decade now, I think.”

The water was warm. Inviting.

“I wonder how far we’ll go. I mean, I know we lost contact with the Neptune ship but…” He kicked at the water, splashing around playfully. “I wonder what else is out there. Oh! You remember the transmissions?! They unscrambled them apparently. They said it was Sun Tzu. Aliens! Asking about Sun Tzu!”

“Interesting that you’re excited by an alien race familiar with ‘The Art of War’, of all things,” she stated, turning her own brown eyes to him. It was the only feature they shared. They had the same eyes.

“Well… yeah I guess we should be concerned about that, but still. There’s life out there. We finally have an answer to that mystery! Maybe they’re not hostile? Maybe they’re just curious? We did send a lot of stuff out into space. Maybe we meet them and it’ll be this awesome new chapter. It reminds me of a book I read, where humanity met other aliens and formed a coalition, and protected the galaxy. They built a grand space station, so that they could all meet on equal footing, and share their knowledge with each other. Share and grow stronger together. Through their cooperative effort, they could ensure peace for all of their races, and hope for the future.” He glanced again back at Mara.

She was standing with her hands on her hips, regarding him coolly with her glowing blue eyes, lips pursed. He looked back to the kids who regarded him with wide eyes. “That’s enough stories for today. My brother has important business to attend to,” she announced. He felt his heart sink a bit. He wasn’t done, but if that’s what she wanted… The children dispersed with their chaperone, a tall woman showing them around the complex, teaching them about the history of the colony on Pluto. “I thought I’d find you here.”

“Sorry. They were talking about the Exodus project. I… figured a first hand account would be interesting. And their teacher’s telling of the history was so dry,” Uldwyn replied, brushing a lock of dark hair to the side. One of Mara’s slender brows arched up.

“That was you retelling the Exodus project?”

“Ah… well… I might’ve gotten a little off-track. But it had a purpose! It was about the inspiration behind the project. Or what I think it was, anyway. We were pushing out and studying the horizon, afterall,” he replied with a nervous laugh. Mara looked up at the statue they were standing in front of.

“Uldwyn.”

“Yes, sister?”

“Stop filling their heads with nonsense.” He orange eyes stared at her for a moment and his gaze fell. “You have far more productive things you could be doing.”

The water lapped at his knees. High-tide was coming in. He glanced back at Mara. She saw something he didn’t. He looked back out at the horizon. He saw adventure and possibility. What she saw… he wasn’t sure.

Were they looking at the same thing?

“That felt lonely,” Sparky quietly said. Uldwyn didn’t answer immediately, instead continuing to stare at the ceiling. He turned onto his side.

“I’m going to take a nap. If I don’t wake up when that AI announces dinner, wake me up, okay?”

“I can do that.”

Were they ever looking at the same thing?

[bigmoneyshave]

Beautiful Girl Smooth Razor Blade Headshave | 4k Remastered | Haircut Tech

Scope it out,,,Bald

[pisshandkerchief]

if your haircut looks too karen you gotta go at it with a blade of some sort NOT SCISSORS theyre too neat you gotta look a little fucked up get a knife or a razor and go wild on the last inch or so of hair and it'll look better

I'VE LITERALLY BEEN TRIMMING MY HAIR WITH A KNIFE LATELY. using the serrated part for maximum fucked up-ness

[sybilius]

Iirc, you trim the shaved part of your undercut at home, right? I've been wanting to try trimming my own undercut, and I was wondering if you had any tips or tricks to share!

I do!! Wow I think I've been waiting for this kind of ask a long time heheh, more than happy to share!

My number one recommendation is this set of clippers:

https://www.amazon.ca/Color-Cordless-Corded-Haircutting-Piece/dp/B0C4N5HVT9?th=1&psc=1

Really cute, color-coded guards, very easy to use. Basically you pick the length you want (I use the ¼” guard these days but I have in the past used the shortest possible one), and just press the plastic part flat along your skull in the part you want to trim, working in strips– the guard takes care of the length handily. If you're not sure what length you want your undercut to sit at, you can start larger and work your way down until the fuzz feels right. There's also a nice getting started guide in it iirc.

The sides are generally very doable without help. A good mirror is your friend, and doing the opposite side to your dominant hand will get easier as you get used to using the clippers.

I'm not sure exactly what your undercut styling is like, but if you're worried about cutting off too much from what your hairstylist has already done, you can get some larger hair clips and twist up your hair before you start. Depending on how much you want to fuss, you can try sectioning your hair to be extra safe – https://www.colouredhaircare.com/how-to-section-hair-for-dying/ – but note I've never done this for haircuts, only for dying, this just might make you feel more comfortable with using the clippers for the first time. I like the flat longer hairdressing clips for my hair:

When you're working your way towards the part where your hair meets your undercut, the guard will reach in to your undercut a bit, like a comb. Go slow here! Even if you take off a little more where the undercut was originally styled, it’ll be fine though :)

If you have to do the back and you don't have a friend to help, you can use a headband aligned to where you want the undercut to stop as a guard of sorts. I do it completely freehand now, but I'm very comfortable working with my clippers at this point.

If you don't want to buy a set of clippers and you like your undercut VERY bald, you can freehand cutting back the undercut in the shower with a shaving razor. Get a good razor – one of the expensive multi-blade for women or a good one for men (I use Harry's), and make sure to keep up with it every few days. The longer it gets, the harder it is for the shaving razor to handle it evenly. You can work it yourself in the mirror the first few times, to get use to the feel before you just do it in the shower.

On balance I recommend going for the clippers, unless you know you love the bald scalp feel.

Here's a few pictures from my earlier cutting up my hair at home. I think I've been doing this since… 2019 now? Something like that.

Best of luck, have fun! Working on your own undercut is a great way to dip a toe in styling your own hair, and it feels so good to keep the shave tight :D

[i-love-you-all]

For the headcanons, could you do harbor please? (Also I really like your writing of the other characters, the omen and sova knitting one is definitely up my top 3 things i have read on tumblr!)

🥺 awwww thank you! And yep, 15 Harbor things coming up rn :))

5 things they usually see:

Gekko and his buddies. I think he was named Gekko's mentor as, like the younger agent, he didn't always have his Radiant abilities. Plus, though Harbor is general a laid back and cheerful, there are days where his thoughts drift back to all that he's lost. That's where Gekko comes in and lifts him up again.

Gym equipment! Bro, his arms are so big! He likely spends a lot of time in the gym, and though it's not reflected in the voicelines, I think he likes to join Skye and Breach when the work out. He can keep Skye company on arm days :p (Though Breach does have to keep up w them when it comes to chest, back, and abs.)

His artifact - the rings/bracelet. There are sleepless nights centered around this thing. Where did it come from? Why was it so powerful? What was its purpose? He just wants to know, and it frustrates him that, despite having it attached to his wrist, he doesn't know anything about its origin.

Water. I'll try to make this my only mention of water in the post but no promises. Water is an essential part of life, and I would bet that every culture reserves some reverence for it, so Harbor probably feels the power of his control over the element (especially since it chose him?). It has proven very useful in his missions so far!

Architecture and the details that others miss. Due to his fascination with history and architecture, he probably catches things that others don't. Details like the number of statues, the type of stone, the style of the windows, these are things that can clue him in on the context of the place, where most others might just pass it off as decoration.

4 things they usually feel:

The smooth blade of one of those traditional razors (idk if they have a name or not). He takes pride in his well groomed beard, but that means that well, someone has to groom it. He definitely has a guy he goes to for a shave and haircut, but with his line of work, he doesn't see them as much as he'd like. That means learning to shave himself. (there are a few nicks under his beard that the hair helps to hide)

The weight of a book or an ancient artifact. He has an intense love for history, the idea of past lives that went about their purpose, not knowing what would come after and yet trusting the human process of life, death, and memory.

Desperate frustration. Piggybacking off the above, Harbor loves to learn, but there are so many things in his way. Laws, greedy hands hiding the answers, and those that seek that same knowledge but for nefarious purposes. He wants to scream and shout and cry out that Kingdom cannot just hide from the world like some grand conspiracy. He wants to fight, kick, and bite back at Greaves (so now REALM), the one place the thought he could fight against the injustice of ignorance, only to discover that not everyone held his reverence for knowledge.

Gratitude. There was quite some time where he was on the run, unsure of what was coming next. Though he was framed, there was no way to prove his innocence against the bullets coming at him, and so he had to run. When VALORANT reached out to him, it was a lifeline. And though it was a close shave, he made it out alive.

3 things they usually hear:

The roaring of his bike. It's by far his favourite way to travel despite the general risk with them. He likes feeling the open space around him when he rides, the feeling of the wind hitting his skin, the open sky above, and the long road ahead.

Praise. He was a legend for so long in REALM. There, he was truly recognized for his dedication to free knowledge and history. The rookies who gawked at him when he passed, the look in his superiors' faces when he succeeds against the impossible. None of that is there anymore, but sometimes when Gekko looks at him with that similar look of admiration, he feels a rush of memories. A past him that no longer exists.

Astra. They are both very similar in the sense that they discovered an artifact that had radiant abilities.

2 things they usually smell:

Chai! I think the first couple times, he would correct people who call it chai tea, but he's too laid back to get on people about it. Still, the spices of cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, etc., they all bring him back to a busy table with his family. He can't make a cup as good as his mom, but what he's able to make is close enough.

Incense (Sandalwood?) Similar to the point above about Chai, this is just one more thing that keeps him close to his home. The single trail of smoke lifting up into the air like their hopes, it's almost reassuring. He kind of drifts towards scents and colognes that have sandalwood as part of it too, even if he doesn't realize it.

1 thing they usually taste:

Hope. He might be angry over what happened with Greaves and REALM, but he has found new friends, some with his interests, and they make him feel like he's at home. Valorant's main priority is to save the world by protecting it from omega agents, but with Astra's help, and his own freedom within the protocol, he can hope that he will one day get the answers he wants.