#spruce up the truce
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Spruce up the Truce: drabble
Prompt: patching up the enemy
TW: a bit suggestive at the end but nothing too wack.
~~~
Izuku stopped walking through the hall of the small cabin once he heard a pained hiss, turning his head to the partially opened bathroom door. He moved slowly and peaked inside. He saw Seven biting her lower lip, and he felt a feeling of worry course through his mind.
He opened the door to see her sitting on the closed toilet, trying to bandage herself. The bandage from the day before was on the small bin, which he saw was now covered with blood. It seemed like she was trying her hardest but having trouble doing so.
She looked up to see Izuku staring at her.
“Hey…” she said lowly, trying to seem casual about the wound on her leg that was now bleeding from her being too harsh with her tactics.
Izuku sighed and walked in. He still felt bad that she had taken the bullet for him during the Quirk Farm incident. She had pushed him aside and saved him from certain death, and the result was now sitting right in front of him. Her kneeled onto the cool tile floor, placing his hands on her knees, gently pushing her legs apart to get a better look at the wound. The action made the villainess jump in shock. “What are you-“
Izuku felt that his actions took the villainess by surprise. She had her legs spread apart, and her breath was cut at the suddenness of it. The boy was completely oblivious to the way her face flared up and instead moved straight to the business of why he went into the bathroom in the first place.
He spoke calmly and softly to her, his hands moving to gently examine her leg wound.
"It seemed like maybe you could use a hand. What do you need?"
As his fingertips gently traced around her brown skin, she tensed up, unsure of what how to react. “I mean, I just had to change the bandages. Last thing I need is another wound infection.” She grimaced at the thought of putting up with another problem like that.
She watched Izuku grab a small cotton ball, dipping it in the rubbing alcohol before gazing at her with his cool jade eyes, trying to gauge if she was okay with him touching her. His lips formed into a soft smile as he looked at her.
"May I?"
Seven was still new to the whole ‘trusting others’ thing so she still seemed hesitant despite the progress they had made.
After a second of contemplation, she nodded slowly, giving him her consent to do what was needed. She gripped the edges of the toilet lid in preparation for the incoming sting of rubbing alcohol.
Izuku's lips remained in a soft smile, taking her nod as the consent he was looking for. He then took the cotton ball, doused it in rubbing alcohol, and proceeded to gently press the soaked ball onto her leg wound.
She'd be able to feel the cold sting of the liquid against her sore leg. Once he finished applying the rubbing alcohol on the wound, he spoke to her, his voice being soft as warm as it had before.
"Just breathe out. It'll be over in a bit."
She did as he instructed, releasing the long breath she was holding. The girl watched as the hero wrapped her leg with such precision. He was a hero in training after all, he’d half to know how to help civilians if no other healers were available.
Her cooperation made the boy relax, knowing now she was more lenient with allowing him to aid her in her wounds. Izuku then spoke to her, her being very compliant making the moment all that more special. His lips were soft as he spoke, a calm, cool demeanor permeating into his words.
"There we go. The worst part is done. I have to ask though, how are you feeling?"
Seven blinked and inspected his work, seeing that he was much better at it than she was. Then again, she rarely gets injured this badly so she hasn’t gotten too much practice with it.
“I’m okay.” She mumbled as she looked away.
The boy smirked when she averted his gaze, finding it to be funny that she was embarrassed in this situation. His eyes then followed her gaze as she looked away, his smile growing even bigger when he noticed how she chewed on her lower lip, a nervous habit.
"You know you can look at me, right?" He spoke in a low, almost teasing voice.
She scoffed at his words but kept her eyes glued to the shower curtain beside her, a defiant look on her face.
"I know that…”
He chuckled a bit at her stubbornness, the villainess looking somewhat childlike in her defiance. Though his lips were still pulled into a smile, his eyes were still soft, observing her in a caring manner.
His hand moved to place a light, warm hand on her chin, tilting her head so that she was looking at him once more.
"Then, look at me."
Seven sighed, allowing him to direct her head down to him. She was trying to get over her pride for him, trying her best to be humbler and reciprocate his kinder energy.
It was harder than she initially thought. She wanted to wipe that smirk off his face more than anything.
A small, triumphant smile came to his lips as she looked up at him. Just seeing how she acted made it evident that her defenses were starting to lower around him, as she continued to try and be kinder to him, even if it was just for a little bit.
He was content in that.
Seven huffed, standing up to put the first aid back in its designated cubby.
"Thanks." She muttered, bending over to place it in the cabinet under the sink.
"No need to thank me, I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to let me aid you." He replied.
She rose and turned to him, leaning onto the sink counter. "I meant...thanks for what you did yesterday. I've never cried like that in my entire life." She whispered; her amber eyes downcast.
The boy was caught off guard by her admission. It was a vulnerable truth, one that she would normally never address. His gaze met her amber eyes as she looked down a bit.
"Of course..." He whispered back.
They both stood in silence for a moment. It didn't feel tense. In fact, Seven felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders by Izuku's presence.
Izuku felt happy she let him see the more vulnerable sides of her personality, despite her hard villainess exterior.
"Sev...Is it alright if I visit you every now and then?" Izuku asked, walking over to her, placing his hands on either side of the counter, caging here between the sink and his body. He meant nothing about the action but Seven still felt heat creeping up her neck at the proximity.
The villainess hummed, looking up at him. "Sev?" She repeated the nickname, a smile pulling at her lips.
Izuku raised an amused eyebrow, matching her energy. "You do like the nickname, don't you?" He teased.
She chuckled. "Call me that in front of other people and I'll kill you myself." The girl warned, no real venom in her words. "But...sure. I'd like if you'd visit me." She whispered, leaning over him, her lips inches from him. "Try to be discreet about it though." The girl continued, as if their whole alliance wasn't already under the wraps from the public.
When she leaned forward, it threw him off. He blushed deeply when he saw her lips so close to his, her words sounding coyer to him. "Are you trying to do something here?" He inquired, trying to stand his ground, but there was an underlying giddiness to his tone.
"Noooo... Whatever do you mean? I'm just warning you. Wouldn't want anyone to know you're in cahoots with a villain now, do you? It'd be a shame if they knew what I let you get away with." She chuckled, gently playing with one of his curly locks, tugging it and watching it bounce back into place softly.
Her words made the boy's face go a deep red, her actions even more so. He scoffed playfully at her words.
"Is this your way of saying you want me?" His tone was quiet, but his eyes seemed to communicate that he was willing to humor her. She had him in a very vulnerable position, and he wasn't entirely against it.
"You already know the answer to that." She purred in his ear.
Izuku's heart throbbed. Her words echoed in his ear so tenderly and teasingly, she was riling him up yet again. That alone was enough to make his heart skip several beats. Her tone sounded so sultry, and her purr was a sweet sound to his ever whirling mind.
Before anything could escalate, she pushed him aside, cackling as she sauntered out of the bathroom in a way that felt almost taunting to the hero. He blushed a bit more as he saw her give him one last coy glance over her shoulder before stepping out of view. Was she attempting to tease the boy even more? Either way, it was working.
A soft chuckle escaped him as he shook his head, following after her. He wouldn't let her get away with that so easily.
~~~
Testing the waters with this one 😬 idk if I like it or not but playing around with their dynamic has been pretty fun.
#my hero academia#mha oc#oc x canon#hattori nara#narazumono#tori#seven#mha#izuku midoriya#deku x oc#deku x reader#??#mha fanfiction#bnha#someone take away my computer#spruce up the truce#mha:sutt#sutt#mha au#mha deku#mha x reader#tw suggestive#implications#iykyk#mha x oc#sutt snippet
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This post by devildomsoup inspired me. Therefore, here's:
A List Of Silly Nicknames For Lucifer
So we have the basics to build on, those being Lucifer, Luci, and Lu. But there’s so much more potential for absurdity, and here are some examples.
Lulu
(alt: Lulu Lemon)
Luce
L (Levi thinks this one is hilarious because Gaming Term)
Ellie
Eli
Uci
Cici
Cindy
Luz (tread with caution if you aim to annoy, he’s existed for long enough to know this is a petname in Spanish)
Luca
Lucille/Lucilla
Luciella
Lucinda
Lucienne
Luciana/Luciano
Ferry (you Know how it’s best pronounced to incite the most chaos. call him Furry)
Cipher (admittedly cool but the nickname part will get him “Of all things, why-? Just use my name??”)
Lufer
Loofa
Lucky
Any rhymes for any part of his name, but especially the first (Juice, Spruce, Truce, etc.)
Lucy Goosey
Loose (over text to distinguish from Luce, verbally if you’re powerful enough)
Lucifussy (if you’re brave)
Then there’s the regional variants of Luci, which open up even more possibilities:
Lusha (Russian)
Lucia (French)
Lleucu (Welsh)
Luiseach (Irish)
Lusine (Armenian)
Liucila (Scottish Gaelic)
Loukia (Greek)
Lucetta (French part two: electric boogaLucifer [<-also a nickname])
Lucita (Spanish)
Lucyna (Polish)
Luzi (German)
I adore Lucifer with all of my heart, but god knows he NEEDS to be silly. He already is, but he needs to be more silly. It's very cute and it keeps him at least relatively humble. Besides, he's already silly.
Call him silly things. Have fun.
[ Post transferred from its original place at @ddset-moved. ]
#obey me#obey me!#obey me game#obey me! game#obey me shall we date#obey me! shall we date?#obey me lucifer#obm lucifer#om lucifer#daedor prattle#daedor prose
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Dark Knights in Nowhere
Chapter 1 : The Only thing to fear is Fear Itself
He was... scared.
Well... he was always scared. That's all he knew. That feeling was his second home.
The first place he called home... he lingered alone in his thoughts. The warmth it brought. The security. He knew deep down it was in his arms. It was in Batman's arms.
Courage snapped back to reality. Quickly realizing where he was, his cheeks glowed red. He was pressed to the ground by... him.
"Awhoooooo" he whimpered. He didn't remember how he got there. The only thing he knew was to meet this mysterious man at night, not even knowing his name (or face matter of fact) to get over his fears. This was him overcoming and accepting his homosexuality.
"I've been watching you for a while" the man muttered. His voice was filled with grit, it might as well have been like sandpaper. But... it was alluring. "You seem nervous."
I've been watching you for a while" the man muttered. His voice was filled with grit, it might as well have been like sandpaper. But... it was alluring. "You seem nervous."
The dark mysterious man got up and pulled Courage up.
"...Are you a pink dog?????"
Courage cat-fished this guy with a twink he found on Twitter. He doesn't know anything about him except for his handle, @RobinDatAss.
Batman thought to himself, "You're getting older... you might not have many opportunities to find love like this again."
"For once in your life, be vulnerable damn it!" he said to himself.
Batman looked into Courage's beautiful eyes and saw love for the first time.
Courage looked back, longingly, and said "awhooo wooo woo" which Batman understood as "I may be a pink dog but I love you more than man's best friend."
Batman leaned in for a kiss and Courage learned in to receive it.
"Oh Bruce..." Courage said.
"Wait. What?" said Batman.
Courage stood silent.
"No wait man, what the fuck did you actually just say?" questioned Batman, the World's Greatest Detective.
Batman's eyes dart around the alleyway and he grabs Courage's collar.
"Seriously dude, what the hell was that?"
Sweat starts profusely pouring down Batman's visible face.
"Shit." Courage thought to himself. "Don't be so obvious... he'll think you're super weird if he found out you were stalking his socials this whole time."
"Awhoo...?" Courage said to Batman, in an attempt to break the tension.
"Bro, what did you JUST say?" said Batman, visibly nervous. His lips started quivering.
In a panic, Courage leaps up and kisses Batman passionately on the lips. He's always wanted this. For once, he is confronting his fears head on.
"I mean okay, but like we really don't seem to be addressing the issue here. Like seriously, did you say Spruce? Like were you talking about a tree? Like are you into landscaping or something?"
Courage puts one finger over Batman's supple lips "Shh... no more talking." while leaning in for another tender embrace.
"L-Like, truce right? Like you're s-saying you give up right?" Batman says, stumbling over his words.
"Listen dude are we going to fuck or not?" Courage says in perfectly articulated English. "Like seriously, I got other things I could be doing." "Uh, I mean, Awhoo."
Courage lightsup a cigarette and starts rubbing his hand over his brow, visibly frustrated. Courage starts to walk away...
#batman#batman fanfiction#courage the cowardly dog#pedro pascal#the mandalorian#economy#fanfic#fandom#marvel#ms paint#gay#dont question it too much#lol#lgbtq#meme#hshs#haha
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And then we circle back to the tattoo topic. Though first we have to circle past Tommy, which is a very risky topic because Niki is still angry at him. And she has a right to be, he tried to kill her best friend. And if I remember correctly he didn't even apologise because he was not really sorry since he still thinks it was the right choice (even though it wasn’t his choice to make).
So Niki is still angry, and she was very hesitant to let Wilbur in, but he was alone and really needed someone. So once she decided to let him in she left everything at the door. Except Wilbur then bring him up anyway. And Wilbur brings it up because he wants Niki’s opinion. Which is the same reason he mentioned it to Phil. He wants to know what they think because he doesn’t know how to feel. He never gave it much though and he doesn't know if he wants one. And I don’t even think he’s sure what he wants their answers to be.
And Niki makes a very good point [“The rule about not getting tattoos. Do you think it matters if you’ve already broken other rules?”]. Does it matter if you’ve broken other rules? Does breaking one rule mean it’s over? You might as well have broken all the others. Does it matter if you break more or not? Is there a point you can stop? Is there a way to go back? Does anything have to change at all?
Wilbur doesn’t know. He’s been taught he should be loyal and follow the rules and Clara’s Will blindly, but the reality is that you should examine each rule and determine if it’s something you want to follow. Is it something that has meaning to you and something you are willing to do? Something you are willing to give up?
And I really love the idea of Niki designing a tattoo for Wilbur with zero pressure for him to get it. I’m curious to see what she comes up with. It’s going to be a bird, but will it match the bird in Wilbur’s chest? Would it be one his chest? Would he want to get it when he sees it? Who knows? He doesn’t have to, and it’ll be his choice if he does.
For right now we have this though [“I trust you,” he said instead.] Things between Wilbur and Niki aren’t going to go back to normal. They can’t ignore what’s happening with Tommy. But I do hope that when Tommy is on chore duty, Wilbur can go hang out with Niki some more. I hope they can still have some sort of friendship. Because Wilbur needs more people to talk to. More people he can just Be around.
(2/2)
-🌲
well tommy did technically apologize the night it happened. he apologized to jack as they were walking back to the temple, but jack doesn't feel like it was a real apology. but yeah. niki is still pissed and they need to stay far away from the topic of tommy for the time being
niki's point about the tattoos was a really good one for sure. because the question of which rules matter and which don't, or if breaking one negates all the others forces wilbur to look at how he views the rules of the pythian institution and actually think about why he follows them. he's not ready to fully go there yet, but it was a push in the right direction
you'll have to wait and see what the tattoo ends up being :) very excited to get to that part but that won't be for another few chapters. it's very good for wilbur to have the option though. a no pressure option where he can consider the idea and imagine the design on himself without being forced to make a decision. the emphasis is on the fact that he has a choice.
yeah things between niki and wilbur aren't normal but they're also not broken completely. they can have a tenuous truce and spend time with each other even if they avoid the topics of their friends. at least for a little while :)
ty for your thoughts as always spruce
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Shiny New Fanfiction: lună de lup (Subspecies)
The Scene: Radu returns to Romania and Castle Vladislas in the early 1990’s to kill his father and claim the throne. Stefan arrives fashionably late as usual, but fails to kill his older half brother…fleeing with his tail between his legs. Michelle and company don’t get their research grant approved so there’s no trip to Ye Olde Transylvania and they all live happily ever after.
Welcome to this reimaging on how things might go for Radu if he never fell afoul of Michelle and spent a decade or so just chilling in his dad’s fortress. Alone. Until…
The hike up to the castle ruins took longer than she thought it would. Stopping in a bit of shade, Fia wiped the sweat off her brow and squinted up into the bright midday sky. Who knew it would be so hot in Romania this time of year? She’s stripped off her jacket hours ago and contemplated skimping down to her sports bra now - this far out in the woods there was no one to see her anyways.
According to the map she’d picked up in Prejmer, the castle was only an hour’s distance through the dense brush. Fia didn’t have the best sense of direction, but she was almost positive she’d been going the right way. Why hadn’t she reached it yet?
“A GPS would be awfully handy right now,” she groused, hoisting her backpack up onto her shoulder and continuing her trek.
The stop in Prejmer wasn’t a planned one, but Fia found the town to be rather quaint. She’d spent the previous night in a little inn run by a very sweet married couple who spoke virtually no English and they’d managed most of their interaction via pantomime. Judging by how long it took for them to grasp that she wanted a room for only one night, Fia knew she’d never win a game of charades.
Hence, she now had an English-Romanian pocket dictionary downloaded on her phone. It had been only marginally helpful in ordering a coffee at a cafe across the street from the Prejmer fortress. That place, on the other hand, had a plethora of guides that spoke passable English - and she quite enjoyed the tour she had been given of the incredible, ancient structure.
Her guide that morning had been a willowy teenage girl who hadn’t been able to resist rolling her eyes just a bit when she got to the part about vampires. Until recently, Prejmer had even held an annual festival honoring the undead, something about the village making a truce with a vampire way back in the day. Her guide didn’t remember many of the details about the festival or the vampire, but assured Fia that one of the older guides could probably tell her more.
“They’re just silly stories, of course,” her guide laughed. “Let us go inside the church now. Please follow.”
Just silly stories. Fia snorted. The poor girl had no idea what kind of monster in sheep’s clothing she’d been entertaining.
Finally, the lush trees gave way to a small stone arch that led out onto a grassy graveyard. The rotting remains of wooden crosses dotted the field and just beyond, the castle loomed. For a moment, Fia simply stood and took it in. There was nothing this picturesque back home.
Time hadn’t been kind to this castle. Much of the outer structure was crumbling and aggressive ivy climbed along one entire side, finding purchase on the rough stone. One lone tower remained, its red roof flaked and open in patches. Despite its dilapidated nature, there didn’t appear to be an easy way inside.
That wasn’t a problem for Fia. As much as she would love the idea of stealth camping inside, the weather promised to hold out and a night under the stars wouldn’t be terrible if the temperature dropped a little. Still…
Exhausted, she dropped her backpack on the hill overlooking the graveyard and plopped down next to it. She could explore later, right now she desperately needed to rest her aching feet and catch her breath.
The wind lifted wisps of caramel colored hair away from her face, carrying with it the fresh scents of spruce, fir, and beech from deep inside the forest. A deeper inhale brought the richness of the soil into her nostrils. The staleness of old bones buried deep reached her next. Something else tickled her senses, something she couldn’t quite place.
Fia exhaled it away. Strange places always smelled strange. Rather than dwell on it, it was time to explore the outside of Castle Vladislas and try to find a way inside. She followed an old footpath up past the main gate and into the castle courtyard, which was surrounded by crumbling stone. There were a few still standing structures that she ducked into, surprised by how much cooler they were compared to the heat of the sun outside.
“Well, now I have to get inside,” she mumbled. “Nature’s refrigeration. Beats sleeping outside in this heat…”
It took some stumbling around the backside of the castle before she found it. It was an ornate wooden door that looked to be in pretty good shape, but the rusty hinges it sat on had definitely seen better days. Cautiously, she pushed at the door. It did not budge.
“Okay,” she said, dropping her pack. She rubbed her hands together and braced them against the door once more. “Please don’t break on me.” It was silly to plead with a door, but she could only hope the wood wouldn’t splinter as she heaved with significantly more force. The hinged protested but slowly gave with a loud squeal and the door swung inward marginally.
Fia grinned. “Just a little more.” Once she had enough space to squeeze in, she stepped back and admired her work. No damage - at least, none that was visible. Her backpack was kicked inside first and then Fia slipped sideways into the cold, stone interior of Castle Vladislas.
Line break
Awareness came back to him quickly that night. Often it was slow, consciousness trickling back into him like water dripping down limestone, but not this night. Stiffly, he rose from his crypt and let a stale wheeze escape from unused lungs.
Radu slid his body from the stone slab and scrambled upright onto ungainly limbs. Already, his thirst clawed at him and he ambled towards the long spiral staircase that would take him from crypt to the upper levels of the castle. There, in the throne room, the bloodstone awaited him.
It wasn’t long into his ascent before a wisp of panic slithered into his head and he tuned in to what his creatures were trying to communicate to him. It was a confusing jumble of observations but one rang clearly in his mind. Intruder. Girl.
A grin curled the edges of his mouth. If his minions’ fears were true, there was a girl somewhere inside the castle. How long had it been since a mortal had wandered into his domain? He had tried to content himself with the bloodstone, but he longed for the chase. The hunt. Nothing could compare to the rush of hot blood against his tongue.
Bloodstone forgotten, Radu climbed upwards with a new intention.
#subspecies#bloodstone#Radu Vladislas#vampire#Full Moon#fanfiction#no beta we die like men#should i post this on AO3?
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Could I request some more Dream/Geno/Horror? Perhaps something with a Post-Truce, horror reconciling with the rest of the bad sanses?
When Dream and Nightmare had agreed to a truce, the many multiverses involved had asked for a party. Nightmare had offered his castle, welcoming all to come celebrate the new peace between brothers.
Horror, however, had been the most reluctant to come.
The reasoning behind which was obvious.
But he was here anyway.
Geno had insisted on matching outfits the best they could. Dream had agreed to wear a matching outfit with his brother to better show their truce, and Geno had done his best to get their outfits to match Dream’s. Unlike the typical bright colors Dream usually wore, the robes he had been given were a dark, almost black cyan. Undergarments we’re a brighter cyan, melding with him and giving him a soft but gentle edge. Dark, mysterious- the opposite of Dream’s usual outfit. Even his prosthetic had been spruced up, golden decor matching the various golden stars and insignias across the clothes. Nightmare in turn wore similar robes- cream-colored ones, with yellow undergarments and light cyan stars and insignias.
Geno was wearing a dark blue suit-dress himself, cyan tie loose around his neck after claiming it had been “too stuffy” otherwise. Horror wore a suit as well, although it was the inverse to Geno’s- a bright cyan with a dark blue tie.
Unfortunately, the matching outfits with Dream would not be easily noticed for a while. Dream and Nightmare were talking with various AU leaders, as well as Core. Something about protocols and what would and wouldn’t be accepted from Nightmare’s chaos.
Horror just wished he could be done so they could go home and cuddle.
Geno was talking to some Toriel and Sans he had apparently known before during his time in the save screen. Horror couldn’t tell if they had thought this party was some kind of dress up contest or if that was actually their formal clothes. Not like he was one to judge. He’d be wearing his casual wear if not for Geno and Dream’s pleading looks.
A whistle caught his attention and he blinked- recognizing who it was before he even looked over.
“Man. Haven’t seen you in a while.” Killer grinned up at him, although it was a bit strained. Horror understood.
They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms.
Dust and Cross were with him. Cross was the only one giving him a genuine smile, Dust not even seeming to bother. They were all dressed in Dream’s colors like Nightmare was- across being the most elegant looking and Dust looking like he had been forced into it by Nightmare himself.
“How are ya doin’, big guy?” Killer asked absently.
“Good.” Horror didn’t dare mention the little miracle, still so new it was almost invisible under Dream’s billowing robes. The idea of them knowing left a sense of trepidation deep within him, as well as uncertainty.
No one besides them and Nightmare knew why they had pushed so hard for this truce.
Horror wanted to keep it that way.
“That’s good.”
“And you?”
“Same old, same old.” Killer shrugged.
“How’s it living in the Omega Timeline?” Cross asked, apparently more than willing to continue the conversation.
“Pretty nice. We’ve got some kind neighbors.” He admitted. “Got a nice home, and a bit of a garden.”
“Yeah?”
“Who are you talking to, sugar cookie?” Geno asked, stepping up to his side. Apparently, his conversation with them had come to an end. Geno’s arm gently wrapped around Horror’s, helping steady him.
“These are, uh, my old teammates.” He explained, gesturing as he spoke. “Cross, Killer, and Dust.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Geno nodded in greeting.
“Likewise.” Cross nodded back.
“This is Geno?” Killer asked, apparently surprised. He seemed to check them both out, observing how close they were. “… the two of you living together, or…?”
“With Dream, yeah.” Geno had said it so calmly to his prior teammates, Horror almost wondered if he had even woke up in his own reality. Then again, considering the party…
“Oh… oh!” Killer got that look on his face- the one that spoke of mischief as he smirked. “Does that mea-“
Dust hit him over the skull- gently from the sound of it. “Hey. Boss said no funny business.”
“I wasn’t going to try anything!” Killer protested, pouting as he rubbed his skull.
“Sure you weren’t.”
“I wasn’t!”
“Guys, calm down.” Cross sighed. “We were told NOT to cause a scene, remember?”
Ignoring Cross, Killer and Dust continued to bicker. Horror relaxed when Geno went up and kissed him on the cheek, nuzzling his shoulder.
“Are you doing okay?” He asked in a soft whisper. Horror smiled down at him, gently knocking their skulls together.
“As long as I’m with you, peppermint, I’m always doing okay.”
#writing#drabbles#Dream/Geno/Horror#Dream#Dream sans#Dream!sans#horror#horror sans#horror!sans#Geno#Geno sans#geno!sans#genocide!sans#genocide sans#genocide sans Gaster
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Inspired by the generated clan challenges people have been doing, I’ve been playing around with this clan generator. I generated 4 clans, and here’s the general overview of them (individual clans will be in different posts to keep this from getting too long).
The 4 clans are Dirtclan, Spruceclan, Sageclan, and Leafclan.
They live on the side of a mountain, with their territories arranged around a central cave. Dirtclan is below the cave, Leafclan and Sageclan to either side of it, and Spruceclan is above it. Since the cave is a small center point, their territories are more triangular.
The main room of the cave is used for gatherings, and it has a hole in the roof through which the moon is visible. A small tunnel in the back leads deeper into the mountain, ending in a smaller cave. Part of the ceiling has crumbled, letting in light and water, and a strange bush grows here. Those who sleep under the bush commune with Starclan. During gatherings, the deputies sit in front of the entrance to this cave, stopping curious apprentices from entering.
The story of how the clans came to be here:
A group of clan cats were sent on a mission into the mountains. They became hopelessly lost, and the early winters high in the mountains trapped and disoriented them even more. In one particularly bad blizzard, they found a cave to shelter in. One of their members explored deeper into the cave, finding the bush. It was blooming, even as snow came down around it. Curling up under the bush, the cat dreamed of Starclan. The Starclan cats were arguing, some insisting that they should continue on their quest, others insisting that the place they had found was too important and needed to be protected. The cat promised they would think carefully before moving on.
However, the choice was already made. By the time the weather cleared, the group had kits too young to travel, and more on the way. The initial group had been made of cats of every clan, and some of these kits were half-clan. The idea of completing their mission and returning to the clans, where their kits would face persecution and their families would be split apart, no longer appealed to them.
By the time the kits were old enough to travel, the cats had learned how to survive in this beautiful but harsh landscape. They decided to call themselves Dirtclan, as they lived in the softer soils on the hill below the cave. Slowly, the clan grew. There weren’t many loners or kittypets to be found here, but those that did come across them almost always stayed. A second group of clan cats, sent out to find the first, also joined them.
Eventually, the clan was too large for one leader to manage. They split in half, forming Sageclan (named for the sage bushes they made their camp near). A second split occurred a little later, forming Spruceclan, who made their home higher in the mountain among the spruce trees. It was many moons before Sageclan split to form Leafclan, and it as been many moons since then.
At the beginning of each gathering, the clans remember that they were once one. Spruce and Sage grew from the Dirt, and Leaves grew from the Sage bushes. It is this, more than any sign or threat from Starclan, that holds the truce during the full moon.
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Serrae’s Rec List 2
Serrae’s Rec List - check out the first one I made!
And the third one!
Like the last one, these are in no specific order and the set up is the same. I will continue adding to this one until it’s filled up, and then I’ll make another one =D
Criminal Minds
One Shots
Fluff
Baby kiss it better - Reid x Reader by @specialagentsergio
Cooking up some magic - Reid x Reader by @homoose
We don’t have to pretend - Prentiss x Reader by @homoose
Java Jive - Reid x Reader by @imagining-in-the-margins
Trees ans seas have flown away, I call it loving you - Moreid by @spencers-renaissance
Merry Christmas, baby girl - Morcia by @homoose
Sleigh ride - Reid x Reader by @squiggledrop
Santa’s working on it - Rossi (w/ Hotch and JJ) by @homoose
It’s safer to kiss under mistletoe - Reid x Reader by @andiebeaword
Unsung heroes - Reid x Masc!Trans!Reader by @gubler-me-up
Dinner and a drink - Morgan x Reader by @hotchsbabygirl
The opposites - Reid x Reader by @kermitsaysgayrights
Holding cold hands - Reid x Reader by @zhuzhubii
Answering Emily’s phone - Prentiss x Reader by @feverdreamreid
Mended hearts - Hotch x Reader, Reid x Reader by @hotchsbabygirl
You got mail - Reid x Reader by @andiebeaword
Pinky promise - Morgan x Reader by @hotchnersbiitch
Caïssa - Reid x Garcia by @illegalcerebral
Books and braids - Reid x Reader by @drcalmreid
Sunflowers, daisies, lilacs, dahlias - Reid x Reader by @reidgraygubler
It was a joke - Reid x Reader by @idmakeitbehave
Chocolate covered strawberries and the scientific method - Reid x Reader by @spencers-dria
Impromptu 3:00am meeting - Reid x Reader by @andiebeaword
Drunk Spencer - Reid x Reader by @hercleverboy
Angst
Just a little longer - CM (Reid x Reader) x Grey’s Anatomy by @its-doctor-reid
Lavender - Reid x Reader by @summerygubler
Talk some sense to me - Reid x Reader by @prisonspencersupremacy
Spruce up my soul (you fill it with coal) - Reid by @zhuzhubii
If I could see me now - Reid (Reader at end) by @andiebeaword
I know what’s best for me (but I want you instead) - Reid x Reader by @zhuzhubii
Caught - Prentiss x Reader by @vxlentinezday
Memoir - Reid by @zhuzhubii
Jackie and Wilson - Prentiss x Reader by @write-orflight
Meowstermind - Prentiss x Reader by @httpnxtt
I love you (but I don’t want to) - Reid x Reader by @babymetaldoll
Smut
Prentiss x Reid x Reader by @spenciebabie
Goodbye forever, until next time - Reid x Reader by @mercy-burning
I had a dream (pt.3) - BAU x Reader by @desperately-bisexual
The cure - Reid x Reader by @gubler-me-up
Spencer Reid NSFW Alphabet by @brywrites
Caught up - Reid x Reader by @differentkettleoffishalltogether
Talk nerdy to me - Reid x Reader by @safertokiss
750 followers celebration (includes 7 one shots) - Reid x Reader by @writing-in-april
Stop taking your vest off - Reid x Reader by @softspence
Hands-on learning - Reid x Reader by @reidsspence
Dethroned - Reid x Reader by @spenciegoob
No need to rush - Reid x Reader by @mggswhorificlover
Truce - Reid x Reader by @imagining-in-the-margins
Pour some sugar on me - Reid x Readee by @aperrywilliams
Hungry eyes - Reid x Reader by @criminalmindzjunkie
Candlelit - Reid x Reader by @ghostings-in
Multi-Part/Mini Series
Smut
Serendipity- Reid x Reader by @juniorgman187
If you like... - Reid x Reader x Alvez by @peachpitfics
Series
The secret sex life of Spencer Reid - Reid x Reader by @cupcake525
All we can do is keep breathing - Reid x Reader by @specialagentsergio
Teach me something I don’t know - Reid x Reader by @homoose
Strings - Reid x Reader by @squiggledrop
Letters - Reid x Reader by @writing-in-april
Galileo - Reid x Reader by @write-orflight
All these scattered dreams by @illegalcerebral
The one where everyone finds out - Reid x Reader by @reidscanehand
Headcanons
Moreid by @abitcriminalminds
Supernatural
One shots
Smut
The only thing that’s real - Sam x Reader by @idreamofplaid
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I have some left over dragons from my pairs "Antares" and "Swift Grift". They are so pretty, so I hope they get scooped up! Otherwise, they'll be headed to the big Arcane Daddy in the sky. 😹
Antares
Serena - sanguine | crimson | sapphire, f pose, uncommon eyes - 24kt/24g
Leeland - sanguine | sanguine | indigo, m pose, common eyes - 25kt/25g
Swift Grift
Truce - spruce | spruce | antique, m pose, common eyes - 25kt/25g
Reverie - aqua I spruce | rose, f pose, common eyes - 20kt/20g
Everyone is listed on the AH for their treasure price. However, if you'd like to pay with gems, just send a cr to Spoon #414680!
I'll reblog with links, so go ahead and check the replies!
#flight rising#fr#flightrising#frtah#dragon sales#flight rising guardian#guardian#flight rising tundra#tundra#flight rising fae#fae#flight rising ridgeback#ridgeback
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Inktober day 19: SLING
I blame @varjojentuomio who promised me a fic if I draw Magneto with a slingshot. :’) ALL HAIL.
♦️
Charles eyed the colossal structure Erik had erected at the edge of the forest with mounting incomprehension. "Why a slingshot?"
When Charles had received Erik's message, asking to meet him in private, he had been convinced the "sling" mentioned in the letter had been code, perhaps even an euphemism. But the makeshift statue was indeed shaped like a massive slingshot: a vast Y-shaped frame supporting a metal simulacrum of a sling pouch, one which Charles was certain was in Erik's command as flexible as the supplest of leathers. If it was some new weapon devised to wage war against non-mutants, it was certainly a novel one.
"I wished to challenge myself." Erik had been hovering right by centre of the fork since before Charles had arrived, his cape billowing around his outstretched arms. The position made Charles wonder if he intended to use himself as the weapon's projectile, and he had to suppress a smile as Erik continued. "I opened up a dictionary and chose the first word I saw to see how readily I could create it."
It was absurd enough that it just might have been true. Charles refrained from pointing out the structure wasn't a sling, precisely. "Your powers to fashion whatever you please were never in doubt, old friend."
There was silence, so profound even the wind calmed down. Neither felt the need to mention what, exactly, had been in doubt. Charles braced himself for whatever was in store.
Only, neither bitter words nor a surprise assault followed. Instead, Erik descended slowly down to ground level and turned to touch the base of the giant slingshot like it was the trunk of a tree it vaguely resembled. When he next faced Charles, it was with an uncharacteristic calmness.
Charles responded with what he hoped was a companionable rather than a regretful silence. Right then and there, at the end of a rarely-used road with neither humans nor other mutants around, it was almost too easy to cast their differing world views aside, if only for a moment, and think instead of only their earlier times together.
Finally, Erik broke the stillness. "I have created other things, as well." He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the woods. The corner of a smaller metal statue was just barely visible behind the slingshot.
This time, Charles didn't bother fighting his smile. "How many words did you choose altogether?"
"Five." There was a pause. "I took the dictionary with me in case you wish to see more."
Charles met his eyes. "I will see whatever you wish to show me today, old friend."
Yes. A day's truce, just between the two of them. Surely it wasn't any stranger than a thirty-foot metal slingshot against a backdrop of spruces.
#cherik#cherik fic#magneto#erik lehnsherr#charles xavier#inktober#inktober 2019#inktober sling#i love the fic it's awesome#it belongs with the art honestly#and erik with the sling was their idea#erik the drama queen
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you should see me in a crown (also shadows au hehe)
**[Stressmonster101 has been slain by Stressmonster101’s shadow]**
The young shadow chuckled quietly to herself. “Poor thing.” she sighed, feigning sympathy. Her gaze traveled to the pile of items on the floor. She picked them up gleefully.
*Maybe I’ll grind her,* she thought, sneering distastefully. *show those humans.*
Before a summoned shadow, (which she hadn’t even know was possible, to be fair,) the being was a Temple Keeper. She fended off humans who were bold, or dumb, enough to come to their realm. They all had the same goal in mind, to find, steal, take what wasn’t theirs. And she was there to make sure it really *wouldn’t* be theirs.
But now it was different. *She* was different. But humans weren’t. She was sure of it.
The shadow carefully rubbed her hand over the long, polished spruce scythe that she carried, varying shades of black in color that shifted with the pattern of the wood. It was.topped with a glowing, deadly sharp metal hook, which glowed yellow, like every other accent on her body did, she noticed. This was her weapon, her defense. Her only possession.
*And double of the silly girl’s inventory.* she laughed cruelly.
Then, footsteps. The Keeper listened closely, intently. One set. Must be the dumb girl coming to beg for mercy. She hissed and recoiled, raising her deadly scythe, ready for anything.
She instantly recognized her, *summoner*, for lack of a better term. Stress. She was small, incredibly short. Her white blouse hung loose under a brilliant pastel-pink jacket. She donned blue jean shorts, and sparkly white shoes as well. A pink clip held her mid-length, bouncy hair back, and shining brown eyes stood kind, but challenging. And the worst part? She looked just like her.
The shadow laughed, to intimidate her if nothing else. It seemed to work. Stress’ gaze faltered, but not for a moment did the hope stop dancing in those gorgeous hazel eyes. Disgusting.
“Hi, I think we got off to the wrong foot. I’m Stress!” The player offered her hand, only to glance at her shadow’s scythe and think better of it. The shadow chuckled a little at how uncomfortable she was.
“What do you want? What deal do you have to strike with me? So many people like you try, so many fail. Why have you come back?” When she got no answer, her tone toughened from mysterious to impatient. “For me to kill you again?” she hissed.
“No! No.” Her human counterpart replied. “None of that. I just thought-“ she lowered her voice. “I wanna be friends.” she blurted innocently.
Her shadow burst into laughter. Just full-on, sides heaving, belly-aching, lips smacking, gasping for breath laughter. She sounded like Grian when Ren fell off the aquarium. Like Stress when she one-shotted Renson. Like Iskall when- well, really just Iskall when anything mildly funny happens. She dropped her scythe on the floor and dropped to the ground. It filled the temple and repeated in Stress’ ears until it hurt. Laughter.
She was laughing at her! And her own shadow, to believe!
The nerve!
Any sort of terror or nervousness left way to indignant confidence. Stress calmly strolled over, silent, if not slightly annoyed, and lifted the scythe that the shadow had dropped in her merriment, and banged it against the ground dramatically, effectively getting the shadow’s attention.
*Right, if you want to play, girly, we’ll play.* The shadow thought, hearing the clang. She reached out her hand for her crude weapon, only for it not to be there. She felt more, then shot up like a rocket and glared at Stress.
“Give it back!” she hissed, lunging at her, dodging and weaving at the human. The shadow flickered in-and-out of 2D, trying to get an element of surprise, catch her off guard. She leaped from the floor behind her summoner, reaching up to return her trusty weapon to its rightful owner.
**[Stressmonster101’s shadow was slain by Stressmonster101]**
Stress opened her eyes, and gazed around. She tried to remember what had happened. Has she really... bonked her on the head? She steadied her grip on the deadly weapon, determination on her face. Haha! Who was laughing now?
Nervousness trampled her moment of celebration when she remembered that her shadow was dead. It was her decision to summon her. She would come back stronger, but maybe Stress was more prepared this time.
She lay the scythe on the floor, and put her and the shadow’s possessions in a chest. She placed the armor stand, summoned her shadow, then bounced back as quickly as she could as her shadow crept out of her silhouette, picking up the weapon.
Stress held her weapon at the ready, watching the creature fumble through her pockets for something to fight with... and finding nothing. She bared her teeth and hissed. “For a human who thinks you’re so nice, you don’t fight fair.”
“I don’t want to fight!” Stress cried desperately, and noticed for the first time a flicker of doubt crossing the being’s face.
Her shadow seemed to think deeply for a little bit, rubbing it’s fingers carefully over her arms in thought. She sighed in defeat, and turned to face her human.
“I’ll admit, I underestimated you.” she finally said thoughtfully. “Don’t get used to it.” she followed up, almost in good humor. “Fine. What was it you wanted? A truce?”
“Well, not a truce...” Stress shuffled her feet awkwardly, the scythe in her hand forgotten. “Just, y’know, friends.”
Now it was the shadow’s turn to look uncomfortable, almost vulnerable. “I’ve never, actually... had a... *friend*.” she replied. The mob thought hard for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll agree to your little contract.”
Stress flinched at the word “contract”, but beamed. “On one condition.” The shadow continued. “You give me back my scythe.” she growled.
“Oh! Yeah, sure thing.” She reaches out awkwardly with the heavy weapon, giving it back to someone who knew how to use it, and secretly grateful to do so. The shadow looked overly pleased with having her scythe back, and she turned back to Stress after a moment of gazing lovingly at it.
“Well, go on then. What did you summon me for, to stand here all day? I’ve got questions, you’ve got questions, let’s walk.”
Stress led her surprisingly excited companion out to the spawn, who hurried out after her, interested in being shown around.
*Well,* Stress thought over, dazed, *it could be worse.*
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Spruce up the Truce
Chapter 1
~~~
The bright sun glared across the clear sky, its warm glow causing sweat to build up on the young hero’s forehead as he sprinted down the walking trail. His mentor was waiting just ahead of him, holding a water bottle out for the boy as he slowed down to a light jog.
“New record, young Midoriya! Great work.” All Might praised his pupil, handing him the bottle. Izuku panted as he quickly opened the container and chugged down the clear liquid, quenching his dry throat. He took a deep breath before smiling at his teacher. “Thanks. Although, I felt a little heavier today.” Izuku poured a bit of the water on his head, letting the is cascade through his dark green curls, sighing with relief at the cool feeling.
“Hm. When did you sleep last night?” All Might asked, leaning down to Izuku’s eye level. The young boy flinched and started to stammer. “Well, I kind of stayed up late.” He laughed nervously. All Might gave him a knowing look. “How late?” He asked anyways. Izuku swallowed. “Like…three in the morning?” He watched as his mentor rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Young Midoriya, you can’t keep doing this. A growing boy like you needs plenty of sleep. How are you going to become the strongest hero if you can’t even keep a decent sleep schedule?” He scolded, making Izuku slump in shame. “I know, I know. But there’s so many tests coming up and I had to squeeze in more study time! I guess I just lost track of time or something because I truly didn’t intend to stay up that long at all!” He rambled on as his mentor blinked slowly.
The teen had a bad habit of going down his own rabbit holes and getting lost in his own thoughts. “I get it, kid. I’ve been there.” All Might chuckled and placed a hand on his student’s shoulder, snapping him out of his ramblings. “Right.” Izuku blushed in embarrassment.
The two of them made their way back towards the UA campus. Izuku looked up into the blue sky, remembering why he was at UA. Why he chose to become a hero and train under the number one hero, All Might. He would make his mother proud and save everyone with a fearless smile.
It had been his dream from the moment he could comprehend the bravery and devotion it took to become the greatest hero. All Might turned to his successor once they made it to the dorms, Heights Alliance, a safe place provided to students after the multiple villain incidents.
“Well, young Midoriya, we can schedule a few more training sessions over the week before you head off to camp. Sound good?” He suggested earning a nod from Izuku. “I’ll see you then!” He waved as he ran off, making his way into the building. The older male chuckled softly as he watched the boy skip off with that optimistic step of his. He had much to learn but All Might had plenty of faith in his decision to pass his quirk down to the determined, once quirkless, boy.
Izuku had some extra serotonin running through his brain now that he had gotten his hero provisional license, meaning he could now work like a real Pro Hero. He couldn’t wait to intern and actually help out in a meaningful way.
The following day, he had to run some errands (buying snacks for his roommates), making his way down the streets of the city to find the nearest grocery store. He needed to get some new hand weights as well as scope out potential locations to intern at. The boy didn’t see the figure he was approaching.
He bumped into someone as he walked down the street, making the person drop their phone. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, sir! I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings!” He quickly apologized and bent down to pick up the phone. The stranger had bent to do the same, causing their hands to brush over each other. Izuku paused, looking up at the person.
A boy around his age, blue eyes, and coal black hair. The stranger had sunglasses on, but he could make out the surprised expression on their face. It quickly shifted to a smile. “Your good pal. No harm done.” The other teen reassured Izuku. “Oh, wait a minute! You’re the kid from UA, right?” He asked as he picked up his phone, shoving it into his pocket.
Izuku cleared his throat. Ever since his debut at the sports festival, he’s been noticed and recognized by strangers left and right. He politely nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.” The fellow teen chuckled. “That’s so neat! UA is such a hard school to get into. You must be pretty strong, huh?” He raised an eyebrow at Izuku. The boy couldn’t help but blush. “Well, I mean-I guess…” The other teen smirked. “You very brave for facing all those villains at the USJ and Hosu incident.” He complimented as he tilted his head. “You have my respect; I’m sure other folks feel the same way too.” At that, Izuku flushed, his smile become lopsided at the shower of praise he was just provided. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He smiled up at the teen. “Yeah. I can’t believe how brave you were to save your friend from Stain during the Hosu incident. You’ve got plenty of wit for an upcoming hero. I can’t wait to see what you’ll become.” The teen walked past Izuku, waving and disappearing into the crowd. Izuku froze.
If his memory was correct, the chief of police told Izuku, Todoroki, and Iida that they wouldn’t get any credit for taking down the infamous villain. As far as the press was concerned, the current number one hero, Endeavor was the one who detained the crook.
So, how the hell did that stranger know that Izuku faced the hero killer, Stain? Maybe they worked with Shigaraki? No. He shouldn’t jump to conclusions so quickly.
He wanted to chase the person down and question them about their intel, but he couldn’t find him in the large crowd. The other teen was gone.
“That was odd.” Izuku muttered to himself, his mind swirling with numerous anxious thoughts. He tried to regain himself, he had to focus. “Maybe, I’m just overthinking this?” He pondered as he made his way into the store he was looking for.
No. There was something odd about the strangers’ wording. He’d have to look into it later on.
~~~
I'm finally starting up this series after months of fighting off an art AND writing block!
#spruce up the truce#sutt#mha fanfic#mha#hattori nara#mha oc#my hero academia#narazumono#oc x canon#tori#bnha oc#boku no hero academia#izuku midoriya#mha au#bnha au#seven#deku x oc#bnha fanfic
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Red Rhotano
Across the aft of the Mare’s Milk sprays a seafoam deluge. The sky is clear and the sun is high, but the sea roars as if the heavens are in revolt. Red Rhotano, her name bought and paid for by the crashing, thrashing waters on the border of Limsa Lominsa, closes her eyes and inhales. Mist, salty and cold, fills her lungs as much as air, and she expels both in a sigh so jubilant the errant souls of the Mare think she were, despite the long frame and longer ears of the Rava, born of the waves.
Red hung from the center tie of the mizzenmast with her eyes on the approaching vessel. Winds as they were, a mainsail that large would overtake the Mare’s Milk in less than an hour and put the Mare in cannon range in just shy of forty minutes.
“Swarbera,” she called to the Sea Wolf at the base of the mast, “It’s them. It’s the <godsforsaken> Longpike.”
Swarbera Sterrahlsyn, cannoneer of the Mare’s Milk, clapped a ham-sized hand over his forehead in frustration, “Aw no, aw shite -- the Executioners ain’t suppose t’sail beyond the Swallow Meridian! They got laws! The Accord!”
Red shielded her eyes with a canopy of slim fingers, “You know another banner with a bloody neck-stump stitched into the weave, <friend?>”
Swarbera ignored her, his mind still struggling to acknowledge who exactly was tailing the Mare, “Aw, and the bleedin’ Longpike? She’s supposed’ta be on the other side of the parallel! She’s supposed’ta be halfway to Thavnair! She’s supposed’ta--”
“‘Bera!” shouted Red, “Tell the captain to <get his knickers around his ankles and prepare to receive,> because the Pike is gaining.”
Swarbera, who knew maybe four words of Red’s hometongue from proximity to the long-earred viera, stared vacantly up the mast.
“Tell him to prepare!” she cried.
To her, the masts were just her native spruce, uncomplicated by uneven bark and branches. Navigating the slippery, boot-polished deck, even thrown to and fro by an angry sea, was simple compared to the winding narrows of Golmore. Everything was known to her when she stepped on her first ship. Everything was basically the same, just kissed by the overzealous affection of the big, deep wet.
Red stood with her back to the sails and her eyes on the Longpike. Swarbera had been right about the Executioners. They weren’t out here by choice or by plan, but chased toward the Mare’s Milk by a sky of dangerous purple-grey. Twenty minutes had passed and now she could see the veins of lightning in the clouds and the spreading darkness on the horizon. A storm and a bad one. A void-colored seafarer’s hell reaching toward the Longpike and, eventually, the Mare.
Under normal circumstances there’d be an unspoken truce. The Longpike would sail by the Mare’s Milk and both vessels would pretend they didn’t see one another. The Pike wouldn’t even log the sighting. Against the coming storm ships on the Rhotano Sea were allies facing a common foe. But the Longpike’s crew were notorious even among the Bloody Executioners: they didn’t arrest pirates, they scuttled ships and took pot-shots at the drowning crew. They didn’t take captives, they took corpses if their faces were on warrants. A slower ship, especially a pirate vessel, facing a coming storm? It would only take a short cannonade to cripple the Mare and leave her for the demon winds to unmake. The Longpike would barely need to slow.
“Red!” shouted Swarbera from halfway to the bow, “Get your stilt-legged arse below deck, Captain is gonna scare ‘em off.”
Red turned to face Swarbera, confusion etched over her features. She couldn’t imagine what that meant. “‘Bera, what is it exactly that scares a <bear-hunting bird> like the Longpike?”
Swarbera grinned. Finally, a word he knew. “A bigger <bear-hunting bird.>” he said, pointing a finger at the dark clouds overhead.
She isn’t one for hiding. For all her natural talent, Red doesn’t do well when she cannot see the sea. More often than not, her place in the small barracks goes unused and she sleeps with an arm around the rigging. Cold is cold, but walls and a roof are captivity. Motion is her enemy when she cannot see the sky. Red Rhotano has more friends in the harsh wail of a banshee wind than she does in the quiet creak of the below-deck hull. Her home is -- was -- open to the air and a hundred feet off the ground. That will never change.
“Your funeral, Red!” sighed Swarbera when his explanation of the plan and the resulting argument didn’t sway her. He went below deck when the first thunder shook the masts, leaving Red up top to help with the change in course.
The captain’s plan was simple: steer the Mare’s Milk perpendicular to the storm instead of running from it, make the Longpike chase them if it wanted a bite, only to lose precious ground to the advancing swell before the worst of it hit. The captain was counting on the Executioners being unwilling risk their vessel to the storm, especially if they thought the Mare had little chance to survive in the heart of the squall. The trick would be doing exactly that. The Mare’s Milk was a tough vessel, but it was going to be a close call. Even the best case scenario wouldn’t leave the Mare unscathed.
Red was the last hold out on deck when the final crewman went below. The final departee was Captain Sterling himself. The gruff, older hyur made eye-contact with Red long enough to acknowledge this was what she truly wanted. She nodded as she tied the mainsail’s last rope.
She remembers her mother, almost eight decades old and as beautiful as anyone in Muscadet. She remembers hearing the frustration in her mother’s voice turn to something damning and afraid. But mostly she remembers handsome Coeli, sick and surrounded by her wives, all sworn not to leave her bedside. She remembers leaving Muscadet behind with her best baskets in tow, and how chilling it felt to step beyond the final edge of Golmore.
Alone on deck, Red watched the distant Longpike continue its approach, course changing to match the Mare’s. A chill ran down her spine like a finger of ice, but she realized too late she was wrong. The Pike wasn’t changing course entirely, just enough. It bobbed on the rocky sea like a stain against the purple sky, too calm and too quiet. All she could hear was the subtle roar of the ocean.
When Red heard thunder, she knew it wasn’t the storm’s doing. Her ears twitched when the low whistle of a fast approach grew increasingly more obvious. The moment etched itself in her memory. Had it been forty minutes? Surely it hadn’t. The Longpike’s cannons couldn’t possibly reach the Mare yet. This had to be a warning shot.
The deck exploded beneath her feet, or near enough not to matter. The concussion deafened her, the force threw her, and the last thing Red Rhotano saw was the ocean rising up to claim her. Then, cold. The sea was so cold. So dark.
Red never felt a cold like this and never would again. Her mother was waiting for her, standing at the edge of Golmore with three women she didn’t know ...and a man, a man with so many scars she can read the lonely history in them. They won’t let her pass, and despite that she knows this as well as anyone, she argues. She yells, she screams, and she has to be held back by her mysterious sisters. “Take it,” she begs, “At least, take it. Please! For Coeli and her wives, just fucking take it!” And in the greatest mercy Red’s mother has ever offered her daughter, she takes the vial that cost Red her home and turns her back, forever.
The cold and dark were interrupted by something yanking her upward. It was tight around her middle and pulled so hard Red’s back spasmed with agony, despite the rest of her being so numb. When her face breached the waves and she drew above the lapping ice-tongues of the sea, she tried to draw breath and couldn’t. The cold and dark were still winning.
All at once, something hard hit her back. Hands on her sternum forced something to crack and she spat up a lungful of sea. Red pulled herself into the closest thing to a ball she could manage and coughed so hard she tasted something coppery on her tongue in addition to all the saltwater.
Awareness slowly bloomed around her. She was alive, she was on the deck of a ship. She opened her eyes and saw a blurry face.
“S-swarbera?”
No, not a face. Faces. Four of them. Surrounding her, all looking down on her. All close enough to smell their sour breath.
“Alas, no,” came a calm voice, pickled in the amusement of the cruel. She wasn’t far off though. A roegadyn, a sea-wolf. Whereas Swarbera had a thick black beard this one’s face was clean and feminine.
“Welcome t’the Longpike, little rhotfhis,” said the woman foremost among those crowding around her, her curly mane of grey-green falling over her cheeks and brow, “We don’t expect you’ll be stayin’ long.”
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Non-Toxic Cleaning Products
When you enter the paleo community, or really just the clean eating community, you begin to think more and more about your daily life and what is involved in it. Not only do you think about the food that you put into your body, but you begin to become aware of other things that are part of your daily life. Like lotions you’re using on your skin or makeup you’re putting on your face. And you also become aware of some of the chemicals you’re using at home daily to clean your kitchen, bath and everywhere in between. But knowing what ingredients are harmful and which ones are not can be a bit challenging. There is so much information out there that it’s hard to wade through.
Well today I’m here with a solution – Thrive Market! I’ve talked about Thrive Market many many times in the past because it’s one of my favorite ways to grocery shop, but Thrive Market has way more to offer than just food. They have vitamins and supplements, beauty products, bath & body products, pet supplies, and they also have cleaning products for your home. But instead of having to look up all the harmful ingredients online, write them all down, them skim through all the products at the grocery store; you can simply click on the Home tab on Thrive Market, search Cleaning Supplies, and find non-toxic products in seconds! It’s that easy! You can shop cleaning products by different categories including: Non-Toxic, Dye & Color Additive Free, Fragrance Free, Hypoallergenic, Essential Oils, Paraben Free, Phthalate Free, and SLS Free. This is exactly how I’ve started to stock my cleaning supply cabinet at home. It’s easy, it’s simple and I know I can trust the products that are being delivered to my house! And guess what? All the products are below MSRP!
Before I share my favorite non-toxic cleaning supplies, I think it’s important that you know that the Environmental Working Group reports that indoor pollution is a health hazard, and cleaning products can be a major contributor. It’s so easy to understand how terrible smoking nicotine is and even how secondhand smoke can be just as bad. But we often forget about the products we are spraying in our home and therefore inhaling ourselves. Or the products we are washing our dishes with then eating off of. I personally think it can feel a little overwhelming at times so I often just push the thought aside. But with Thrive Market, I don’t even have to think or worry! Thrive Market only carries brands that are non-toxic, clear of any harsh chemicals, and most are scented by plant-based essential oils!
If you’re looking for some cleaning product alternatives, here are the items that I’ve swapped out in my own home –
Thrive Market Citrus Dishwasher Packs – These dishwasher packs use only plant and mineral based ingredients! And they are 27% off MSRP, only costing $7.99 for 45 loads!
Thrive Market Glass & Mirror Cleaner – This glass cleaner is made without harsh chemicals, dyes, or fragrances so you can breathe easy every time you use it. Plus it’s only $3.29 which is 45% off MSRP.
Truce Yoga Mat Cleaner – Since I just started yoga back up, I need to keep up with keeping it clean and fresh. And this yoga mat cleaner comes in peppermint fragrance and only has five simple ingredients – rubbing alcohol, water, pure soap flakes, hydrogen peroxide, and aromatherapeutic essential oils. Plus it’s 33% off MSRP!
Truce All-Purpose Cleaner – If you want your house to smell amazingly fresh, get this clean! It uses peppermint and rosemary essential oils to refresh while it safely shines and cleans everything from mirrors and glass to granite, stainless steel, tile, linoleum, slate, natural stone, and even concrete surfaces. The bottle comes with the concentrate so you just have to add your own water. And it’s only made with five ingredients – Water, Rubbing Alcohol, Hydrogen Peroxide, Organic Castile Soap, Essential Oils. Oh yeah, as for savings – it’s 37% off MSRP!
Seventh Generation Disinfectant Wipes – This is my least favorite product of all that I’m listing today just because I’m not a huge fan of the smell. BUT I’m happy to have disinfecting wipes on hand for quick clean up, especially since these ones are non-toxic and get rid of 99.99 percent of germs and bacteria. You’ll see these in the grocery store almost everywhere but only on Thrive Market can you get them 13% off MSRP!
Spruce & Co Screen Cleaning Wipes – How often do you clean your phone and/or computer. If you’re like me, close to NEVER. So gross. Our phones are computer hold so many germs and bacteria, but thanks to these individually-wrapped screen cleaning wipes, you can remove all the smudges and sketchy things that cover your screens. And they are 25% off MSRP!
What we put in our bodies is so important and I think I’ve pressed that subject quite enough over the 8 years I’ve had this blog. But I think it’s time we all start to take a deeper look at what is in our cleaning supply drawer and if we are comfortable with the ingredients that we are spraying in the air. It may feel a little overwhelming at first, but if you have Thrive Market, there is really no need to stress. I’ve even created my own PaleOMG Spring Cleaning Kit on Thrive Market so you don’t have to write all these items down. All you have to do is click here to enter your email and it will take you straight to my non-toxic cleaning products page!
And if you are new Thrive Market, not only will you get up to 30% off your Thrive Market’s prices, but today you can get an EXTRA 25% off your first order + free 30 day trial! All you have to do is click here and it will add the discount to your first order! Something that I absolutely LOVE Thrive Market is that every time you shop, you get a breakdown of how much you saved just because you shopped with Thrive Market. Then at the end of the year, you’ll get an email letting you know how much you saved that year with all your purchases! My membership just renewed last week and I got an email that I saved $691 last year by shopping through Thrive Market. $691!! Think about how much you could do with an extra $691 in your pocket! So cool. I hope you love Thrive Market as much as I do and this post gave you a help in the cleaning supplies world. I know I was totally lost before I started shopping through Thrive Market.
___________
This post is brought to you by Thrive Market. It contains some affiliate links and I may be compensated for this post, but all opinions are my own. This compensation helps with expenses to keep this blog up and running! Thank you for all your support!
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My contribution to the Mystic Messenger Winterzine: MC x Zen fanfic, for all audiences, 2,809 words
The entire Winterzine and more info on it is available here, on the Mystic Messenger Discord server's Tumblr @mm-discord.
MC Under the Mistletoe
The delicious, rich, spicy scent of gingerbread being baked wafted in Zen’s apartment. MC had volunteered to bake gingerbread cookies for the RFA Christmas party with the actor, and here they were, making them now. She loved to see the dough smooth under her rolling pin. It was so much fun to carefully place and press the cookie-cutter on the dough sheet, in order to get as many shapes as possible from the first sheet. They made stars, different animals, spruce trees, and hearts - placing the cookies on the trays to wait for their turn in the oven.
For the past hour or so, the favorite Christmas carols picked by both MC and Zen had been playing on the speakers as the pile of the gingerbread shapes grew ever higher. Finally, MC put away the baking tools, sighing contently as the last batch of tasty treats stood there ready for oven-baking. Finishing up the clean-up of the kitchen counter, she failed to notice the tall albino sneak up right next to her. When a pair of strong arms snaked around her, MC jumped, squealing out loud - not startled but tickled! She bent over in a fit of giggles, trying to squirm away from the fingers aimed at her sides. The gorgeous dork loved to hear her laughing, so he told her all the time. Thus, she was constantly the target of his stealthy attacks of hugs, tickles, and kisses.
“Truce! - ahahaha - Hyun!!! Truce!!! ”
“But babe~, I just caught you in my arms…”
“The gingerbread - hahaha - trays are in danger!!!”
“Alright, if you’re sure~”
The man squeezed his girlfriend into a tight embrace instead. He wanted to try her gingerbread cookies for the first time, too - so he didn’t want to risk any of the trays getting knocked off of the table and kitchen counter. Zen danced them around the kitchen and stopped at the doorway - just long enough to smooch MC.
His boyish grin was as charming as ever as he glanced at the little mistletoe he had insisted on placing on the doorframe even though it wasn't a Korean tradition. Zen enjoyed the sentiment, and being the cuddle-bug he was, that kissing tradition fit him well.
“I’ll go for my run now, just had to get my fill of your giggles first. I’ll be about an hour, and my phone is with me - so call me if anything happens, okay, cutie?”
Zen made MC promise the same thing every time he left the house, and it had become more their routine than a real concern of his. Smiling warmly at her love, the woman watched the long, silvery white rattail disappear from sight as the front door closed behind the man. Now MC was home alone and the sole baker responsible for not burning the goodies. She checked the oven temperature, pushed the first batch of baking in, and set the timer to go off when the cookies would be ready.
She curled up under a soft blanket in a corner of the sofa, her laptop on her knees. After testing the game only because Zen starred in the musical version of the story, MC was now totally hooked on Tendelion. The girl continued the gameplay from her last save point. Chuckling to herself MC, shook her head at a thought - imagining that the ultimate cat-allergic man had played the part of the human form of a black cat!
Level-up after level-up in different attributes for the main character, interaction after interaction earning hearts from the different love interests, MC was immersed in the gameplay. At some point, she realized she heard shuffling by the door and greeted the man brightly - eyes never leaving the screen, though. MC didn’t even notice the absence of any sort of a reply to her greeting… She was in a super exciting situation in the game. The story could now go either way, as she was about to end up on one of the guys’ routes - but whose?
Deciding to take a break - and stretch the anticipation that much longer - MC made a save and got up from the couch. She stretched languidly, a delighted little moan escaping her. Sauntering to the kitchen, she pinched the bridge of her nose. Hm, my eyes are a bit tired, did I really play that long? But the timer hasn’t rung yet, has it, she mused to herself. Her lips dry and mouth parched, MC reached for a glass from the cupboard. Before she could fill it with the cold water she craved, warm hands covered her eyes.
Without a word, a firm chest pressed to MC’s back - the feel of it familiar and pleasant to her. For a split-second MC wondered if the spices used in the baking had messed up her sense of smell, due to her not recognizing Zen’s scent. That thought got pushed aside, though, as the man walked her forward, still flush against her. A confused little giggle and heat rising to her face - radiating unmistakably to his palms - revealed that the surprise was a success. They came to a halt and the man spun her around - one hand remaining over her eyes to keep her blinded. She felt another large palm cupping her cheek and a light puff of air as his breath hit her lips, sending shivers down her spine. Just a heartbeat later, the soft touch of his kiss made the woman go weak in the knees and wobble a bit.
A chuckle, very different to Zen’s, made MC’s eyes shoot open. Yellowy-gold eyes were right before hers - instead of the rare crimson she expected. This caused the woman to flinch back from the kiss and let out a screech of horror. Despite her reaction, the stranger stood too close to her, holding her gaze calmly - a gentle smile pulling on his lips. The young, wide-shouldered man wore a red-and-black jacket and a black beanie was pulled over his unruly raven hair. There was an ornate silver pendant hanging from a thin strap loosely tied around his neck, guiding her eyes down to his collarbones, of which his loose shirt collar showed a glimpse. MC felt like she recognized the pendant - and the man. But that couldn’t be, right… The man crossed his arms over his chest and studied her face, an enigmatic, feline-like smile on his features.
“Who the hell are you?! What are you doing here? How did you get in!?! Who gave you the permission to KISS ME?!?!? Where--”
“My bad for startling you, Foodgiver - or, should I say, cookie-giver. You’re the best!”
“What did you call me just now!?”
“Relax, MC, it’s alright. Also, the mistletoe, it’s right above us. You know I’d never harm ya.”
“What? What do you mean ‘I know?’ I’ve never...”
“Haha! So you’d think~! You’ve become happy, haven’t you?”
“Yes, of course! But what does that have to…”
---BLEEEP-BLEEEP-BLEEEP---
An annoying beeping sound distracted MC, taking her attention but for a moment - her gaze only briefly snapping to the oven. The guy had disappeared, as if into thin air. Touching her chapped lips lightly with her fingertips, she found them still warm from the kiss. The woman blinked a dozen times, frozen in place. She concluded that a handsome stranger popping by just to kiss her - and her not kicking his ass for it - had to have been a dream. One really lifelike dream...
She shook her head and padded silently in her neon-colored knit socks to save the baking. As soon as she opened the oven door, the delicious smell of baked gingerbread cookies filled the room - making MC’s mouth water. After setting the baked batch aside to cool down, pushing a new tray full of raw goods into the oven, and leaving the bright red oven mitts on the countertop, it was time for MC to reset the timer and go back to her game.
No longer in the mood for grinding the stats of Tendelion, she switched over to the next game. One she had heard of from one of the guests at her first RFA party: Nameless. It was also an otome-type of game, but with different game logic - more story-based than the previous one. MC hadn’t played it before, and she’d managed to avoid any accidental spoilers online. Such interesting characters were written into the game! There was an intense scene going on and as it ended with an alarming voice speaking to the main character, MC was all but biting her nails. The story is super engaging! I can’t believe this game isn’t more widely known... The only downside to such addictive gameplay was that the woman lost the track of time completely. Luckily, she knew that and, thus, used the timer.
After a few more trays full of cookies had baked ready, MC heard faint singing from the bathroom and the shower sloshing. She smiled to herself. The actor had obviously returned from his run while she’d been totally focused in the game world, her headphones on tight. On one hand MC was itching to tell Zen about her wild dream, but on the other...she hesitated somewhat. The man was still sometimes insecure about her love toward him and had been known to get jealous pretty easily. It was still just a dream, and besides, starring someone MC had never seen before in her life. Although, he did remind her of a role character Zen had played back before they had met… Perhaps her love and adoration had made the character come alive in her dreams? She had told him before how she’d almost developed a crush on some of his role characters.
Still slightly dazed by the intense game moment she shook her head once more to her inner musings and lazily dragged herself up from the couch. Checking on her baking she wondered if the romance games just played tricks on her subconscious. The woman had just taken the last hot tray of gingerbread cookies out of the oven and was carefully setting it aside.
Before she could finish the task, though, a hot pair of arms circled her midriff again and soft humming tickled her ear. Noticing a different scent to the usual made MC briefly think that maybe Zen had switched his body wash again. The thought was soon replaced with the worry over her baking for the RFA.
“Oh, you’re back at it, mister?! Just...Please, don’t tickle me this time…I might drop these.”
“I would never play such a nasty trick on you, my honey~” yet another unfamiliar voice whispered in MC’s ear.
The tray fell from her hands - luckily only a few centimeters onto the kitchen counter - making a loud noise, nonetheless. MC flailed fervently to free herself from the hold of a second stranger in the same day. Surprising even herself, the resourceful female managed to force the male backwards and away from the stove. However, the man maneuvered the two of them as though leading her in a dance, so that she didn’t bump into the walls or furniture. He brought them to a full stop, turned her around in his arms, and dropped a tender kiss on her mouth.
Finally freed from his hold, MC stared unblinking at the uniquely gorgeous guy - who was standing almost as if striking a pose for her. His short, black hair with a trendy cut was pulled back behind his left ear - revealing an earring - and his bangs fell over his right eye. The man wore an exquisite, long, white jacket with an unusual design. MC gawked at him long enough to notice that his bare, shapely chest and flat stomach were partly showing, due to the cut of the garment. The tall, toned man held her gaze, mirth sparkling in his eyes that were locked on hers. An alluring smile adorned his face, making her suddenly feel hot in the presence of this new stranger. Nevertheless, this is totally inappropriate!!!
“Who are you, mister? And how the hell did you get in?! Is there a sign on the door saying ‘damsel in no distress, but come and grab anyway’?! I don’t understand any of this!”
“Don’t understand, MC? Which part, my honey?”
“The part where a freaking stranger waltzes in, embraces and kisses me - without my consent, may I add!”
“I am here only to make good use of that mistletoe, my flower…And to thank my owner for believing in me~”
This hunk even has the audacity to wink at me!!! MC didn’t know if she was more baffled, irked, or embarrassed - or if those feelings were aimed toward the behavior of this guy or her own emotions…Why does my heart do backflips - just like when Hyun teases me!? It was such a puzzling reaction to a man she had never met before.
“What in the world does that mean?! Owner?!”
“Just that you own my heart - my full, intact, sensitive heart - only beating for you, my honey~.”
MC sharply sucked in a lungful of air, to really reprimand this - God forgive her - astonishingly beautiful man. The next heartbeat, though, MC felt incredibly sleepy, her eyes fluttering shut almost as if her eyelids had weighed a ton. As she opened her mouth to speak, she felt something familiar, soft, and sweet peck her lips.
***
The weather had been excellent, not too many fans kept Zen from running his laps, and it was just an all-round perfect day for him! He returned home to the delicious smell of baked goods - and just had to risk MC’s wrath by tasting one gingerbread cookie. Finding the woman blushing in her sleep on the sofa - her mouth slightly agape - was too adorable an addition to Zen’s good mood...He just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to wake his girlfriend with a gingerbread-flavored kiss.
MC hardly even stirred when he pecked her lips. “Babe~” She started to register the familiar voice and touch as Zen spoke softly, his warm palm on her shoulder. “Are you awake yet, my flower~?” The man continued cooing at her, gently stroking her arm. His white rattail flowed over his shoulder, the tips of his hair swiping her cheek. “Wake up, foodgiver~” She scrunched up her nose, finally moving a little to push at the distracting sensation disturbing her sleep.
Mumbling quietly MC objected to being shaken from her sleepy state. “Hey, sit up for me, my honey~” The man continued to coax his love into returning to him from the land of dreams and a blissful smile bloomed on MC’s face as she finally managed to pry her eyes open. “Hey, Hyun…Did you have a good jog?” she muttered, still sleepy. A whiff of the fresh outdoors combined with his wonderful scent was home to her. The extra coziness thanks to the spices of the season didn’t help with waking her, either...
“I did! And the day gets better and better with your baking, Jagi~! Do you even know how you hold my heart~?” MC laughed along with Zen in the warmth of their small home, as they chatted about nothing and everything, nibbling on some cookies she’d set aside for the two of them. Eventually she worked up the courage to tell Zen all about her weird mistletoe dreams. After the tale was over, the man chuckled as he studied MC’s face - a tender, loving smile on his own. To her surprise, Zen didn't get miffed nor jealous of the imaginary guys in her subconscious.
Instead, he just asked one puzzling question - winking at her: “Tell me, how were their kisses compared to mine~?” This left MC blinking and utterly flustered. She couldn't lie that they would've been bad at it or even worse than Zen. Swallowing her words one after another, she opened and closed her mouth. Suddenly, something she hadn’t really noticed earlier dawned on her: the men in her dreams had called her ‘foodgiver’ and ‘my honey’. Why did he think to call me with those endearments - today of all days, and ones he’s never used before? Zen simply grinned radiantly, watching the expressions on MC’s face change.
Finally, the man pulled her into his arms in a tight, warm embrace - silencing her altogether. “Don’t think about it too much, babe~ Just know that I will love you forever, my cookie-giver, my flower - in every lifetime and each dimension.” The whispered words sent shivers down MC’s spine - but at the same time, they warmed her heart and calmed her down. She no longer mistook the encounters under the mistletoe for dreams. The woman sighed, wondering why she wasn’t nervous about that realization, either. MC trusted Zen with her life. She simply melted into his safe and secure hold, squeezing him back. She was so content right here with him. “I love you, too, Hyun.”
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just like dad
For years, I had urges that I really didn't understand. I'd masturbate to them every night. Then the guilt would come. It felt weird. It felt dirty.
It involved my Dad. No- not an incest thing here. I wasn't in love with him. I loved him: a great deal, in fact. In fact, I rather deeply admired him. I had my rebellion fits. It was 1970, afterall. I was a normal, moody, 14-year-old asshole. We had our squabbles. The squabbles had intensified over the last year.
One side of me wanted to break away. The glasses were easy. I managed to trade my old dark frames for some fashionable wire ones. Mom had intervened and I was allowed to grow my hair somewhat longer. None of the other kids had flattops. It took months of pleading and weeks of slow growth before my hair reached combable length. The next hurdle was being allowed to wear jeans and t-shirts to school. Dad threw a fit, but gradually gave in on that topic, too. My jeans had to be neat and whole. My t-shirts had to pass his approval. My body had started to develop by then. In my 70s jeans and T-shirt, I looked buff and pretty hip. The girls had started to notice me.
I finally got to look and act pretty much the way that I wanted to. Dad didn't like some of my friends. I occasionally broke curfew. Still, we arrived at a workable "truce"... pretty much like every other father and son.
Funny thing: none of this made me happy. On one hand, it made my social life much easier. On the other hand, I started to have some weird conflicts. Deep down, in my deepest fantasies, I wanted to look and dress like my Dad did.
The Urge had started as an ache- a painful longing. In time, The Urge invaded my idle fantasies. It conjured vivid pictures, each one more detailed and more exciting than the last. The Ache and The Urge collided. They created an emotional power, dominating my psyche as they crossed into my erotic consciousness.
For awhile, I was content to keep The Urge chained to my jack-off life. That was safe. I could get off, still look like I did before, and forget the whole thing for awhile. The Urge seemed rather repulsive after an orgasm. It was a relief not to look like the clean-cut boy of my fantasies. The Urge didn't last long as a passive fantasy. All too soon, it demanded to enter reality. The Boy, embodied by The Urge, demanded to be allowed to come out. I fought hard against Him. I tried to conjure up other fantasies. I tried to create something strong enough to make The Boy go away.
Fighting was pointless. Even then, I knew that The Urge wasn't going to go away. The Boy wasn't some alien invader. He was a part of me. He was the part of me that I liked the best. He was The Boy that I longed to be. A shoebox, hidden in the bottom of my closet, steadily filled with odds and ends. I'd bring out the box every night, then jack of madly over its contents. I would use the money from my paper route to buy small things for the box. Sometimes I'd pick up an old-fashioned hair cream, like Wildroot or Brylcreme. At other times, I'd pick up a cheap tie at the drug store. I felt compelled to have these things. My stash expanded to include pictures of businessmen in Crewcuts & Flattops from the local newspaper. I'd cut them out carefully, slipping them into my shoebox. Pictures of astronauts would come out of books or magazines to join my ever-growing collection. The first time that I discovered high school yearbooks from the 40s and 50s, I thought that I'd hit the mother lode. All of those young men in crewcuts and ties made me shake with longing. I wanted to be one of those barbered & collared young men. Most of my friend's dads wore crewcuts and flattops. Dad had kept me in a crewcut w/ a small "bump" in the front for most of my childhood. It was only peer pressure that made me whine to be allowed to grow some hair. I used to dream that he'd make me get a flattop.
I'd lock myself in the bathroom. Tons of goop would go on my hair. Then, I'd spend a long time molding it so that it all looked flat. It wasn't the same as getting a haircut. It did the job. I'd squint in the mirror and jerk off at my flat-headed reflection. Then I'd wash it out really fast.
One day, my mother asked me to pick up some dry cleaning. To steady my load, I used both hands to carry the bags home. When my hand first felt the stiffness of my father's shirts, it was like falling in love. Dad's business suits exerted a strong pull over me as well. When no one was around, I'd contentedly stroke and sniff my way thru the suits that hung in Dad's closet. My hands and my face memorized every weave, every fold, and every detail of the cut of each of those wonderful garments.
The Urge must've been waiting for this moment. It silently ushered me into the next stage of the Transformation. Lost in my suited oblivion, I absently slid a coat off of the hanger and slipped it on. My body trembled, then exploded with the heat of pleasure. Yes: that was incredible! I moved around, enjoying the caress of the coat over my body. The satin lining sent chills up my spine. I reveled in the way in which the suit coat lay against me. My mind started taunting me with images of myself in those suits. A hunger clawed at my belly. My arms, my legs, my whole body shimmered with longing.
No guilt. No reservation. Nothing stopped me as I shucked my jeans and climbed into the trousers. It all seemed to happen in a slow motion cloud of feeling. The feeling was akin to love. I didn't look in a mirror that time. I didn't need to. Simply sitting on the bed, dressed & groomed like my Dad, gave me such a sense of fulfillment, of completion. Quietly, I rock and flexed my body.
I got up and put the suit away. Relief flooded thru me as I "escaped" out of my parents' bedroom. I dove into bed and blasted off to sleep with the most powerful orgasm of my life.
After that, I would lie in wait for any opportunity to slick down my hair and dress in my Dad's clothing. Each session became longer and more powerful. During each session, I got better at molding my hair into a stiff and squared off semblance of a Flattop.
My dress-up sessions grew more complex and more delicious with each succeeding opportunity. My parents would leave for the evening quite often. The moment that the car left the driveway, I'd be in the bathroom slicking my hair flat. Next, I'd be in my Dad's closet.
Putting on a pair of his boxer shorts started the whole ritual. Nobody wore those but Dads back then, so it was a real treat. My dick would grow rock hard the minute it touched the underwear. One of Dad's white t-shirts came next.
The whole time, I'd keep one ear cocked for the sound of their car.
Then I'd reach for one of Dad's white shirts. His shirts were made for him: always white, always cut fuller, always made with a slightly higher than usual snap-tab collar. Carefully, I'd tie my tie just so. Often, I'd simply stare at myself in the mirror. Seeing myself, slicked and buttoned and ready to go, was a real source of excitement. I looked like a suit and tie man who was getting ready for the office.
Always with an ear for a car door, I'd just hug myself and get lost in the feeling.
Finally I'd pick out one of Dad's grey suits. It didn't matter which one. There I'd be: looking, to me, like every 3-button square that I saw downtown. My gut would ache by then. I'd be so turned on that it would take almost nothing to get Me Off.
I'd dream of looking and dressing like this every day. Fantasies of going out with Dad in matching haircuts & suits were a favourite fantasy. As a finishing touch, I'd put on Dad's extra set of glasses. Things looked funny, but wearing his glasses just set everything off right.
They helped in another way. I'd squint, just so. With some imagination I'd see myself in the mirror, wearing a bristled flattop and a dark suit. I'd stay dressed for as long as I'd dare. Sometimes I'd kneed my crotch to orgasm, dressed in one of those business suits. Sometimes I'd wait until later that night so that I could fantasize about how I looked.
Sometimes, I'd dream of being caught dressed in a suit. I'd jack of thinking of Dad catching me, and punishing me by making wear the suit and all day. I'd be marched off to the barbershop for a GI'd Flattop like his. Never happened, though. I was too careful.
One weekend they went to Grandma's. They decided that I was old enough to stay by myself. They pulled out of the driveway for the weekend. After waiting 10 minutes, I was up those stairs and into his closet like a shot. For the whole weekend, my hair stayed slicked and flattened to perfection. I stayed dressed in a suit and tie stayed quiet and didn't go out in the daytime. The lights stayed off, so that no one would bother me.
Man! I jacked myself off so many times that I was sore.
My last jack off of the night was imagining myself walking into the barbershop in a business suit. I conjured up a vision of how the clippers would feel as they sheared away my hip and modish locks. Touching my lacquered head w/ my free hand, I'd dream of how square and bristled my head would feel. As I blasted off, I saw myself happily sporting a Flattop and a business suit.
That was one of the best ever. You might've thought that the weekend would've cooled my fantasy life. In a way, I'd hoped that it would. No go. On Sunday, it actually kind of hurt to change back into my usual clothes.
For weeks afterward, my gut would burn with longing for another dressup session. I'd deliberately pass by barbershops, just to catch a glimpse of some man having his crewcut spruced up. Hearing the buzz of the clippers would send me into fits of trembling.
With each passing week, The Urge to become The Boy tormented me. As time passed, I'd see myself in a flattop in almost all of my imaginings. My dreams revolved around the barbershop and the men's suits stores. Something had to give.
I was scared, though. What would Dad say? Would he laugh, or send me to a shrink? It occurred to me that I was crazy. I didn't understand this aching, intense longing.
Finally the day arrived when I couldn't take it anymore. Dad and I had had an unusually good spell. We'd done quite a few things together. Things were going very well.
I'd awakened that morning with such a hardon that I couldn't stand it. My heart pounded. My hands shook. My mouth went dry. Every part of my being pushed me out of bed to have "that talk" with Dad.
The urge hit me hard. I shaved my budding beard extra close that day. Taking some leftover Brylcreme from my jack off stash, I greased my hair thoroughly. A few moves with the comb, and my hair was slicked back on the sides. I parted it, combed it to the side, and slicked the front back over the top. Instead of my jeans, I put on a pair of my "good" Sunday slacks. A white shirt hung in the closet, stiff and glossy from the cleaners. I hadn't worn it in a long time. My cock went rock hard. I pulled the shirt from the hanger and slid it over my clean, white T-shirt. It was chilly out. A v-neck pullover sweater completed my dressing.
It felt wonderful to be dressed so nicely. It took almost everything I had not to blast off an orgasm right there. But no, it was now or never.
I wanted to stop, to take everything off and forget it all. The other side of m proved to strong. Shaking, I walked out of my bedroom into Dad's study. Dad was reading over some papers. He didn't seem to notice when I walked into the room. I sat down in one of his chairs by the desk. I was shaking all over. The chair really was holding me up. I almost tried to sneak back out of the room when Dad looked up from his papers. Too late. Here we go.
A puzzled look on his face soon gave way to a broad smile. His eyes still betrayed curiosity.
"Well! You look very nice today, John."
"Thanks, Dad." I croaked. My voice had only started to change. Croaking was a way of life. Then I got quiet again.
"I must say, son: you look very nice today. I don't understand, though." He shifted to relax in his chair. His eyes smiled at me through his thick glasses. He ran a finger over his tie while he waited for me to continue.
I went numb inside. My dick was rock hard, but my body had stopped trembling. I continued. "I...I don't understand it, Dad. Something made me want to put this on today." I looked away from him. Snow was starting to fall.
"Well, I can't say that I'm not surprised, but I'm happy to see it." His eyes were warm and comfortable. I relaxed a little.
He chuckled as he continued. "You sort of remind me of a good looking boy that I used to know." His gaze remained steady. So did his smile.
"Well...yeah..." I blushed high crimson. "Like I said, I don't know what made me do it." I fidgeted in the chair.
Dad sipped his coffee. He waited for me to continue.
"A lot of things are happening that I don't understand. Things that I suddenly want to do. It's scary, but I can't help it."
Dad got up from his chair. He pulled me out of mine, and gently led me over to the sofa. He plopped me down, sitting right next to me. I must've looked very confused and frightened. He wrapped a comforting arm around me and pulled me into a hug. Normally I would've squirmed to get away. The fact that I visibly relaxed into him must've told him volumes.
"You're at the time of life when all sorts of strange feelings will come up. We discussed the changes that your body is going through already." I left my head on his shoulder. It felt safe. I felt like a happy little boy again. Suddenly I didn't want to be a grownup.
"You really want to tell me something, don't you?" His soothing voice told me that anything would be all right.
I took a deep breath, and let it all come out. "Dad, I don't know why, but I really, really want to get a haircut."
Dad's fingers checked the back of my head. He looked mystified. It had only been a week since my last haircut.
"I want to get a flattop- like yours. The kids will all laugh at me, but I really want one anyway."
Dad chuckled. He patted his stiff deck of tight bristles and asked: "A flattop? Really? Why the sudden change of heart?" He rubbed the smooth shaven back of his head, running a finger thru my slicked mop. "I thought that your old man had the goofiest haircut in town? You've been kidding me about it for years."
I looked him in the eye and shyly continued. It was too late to back out now.
"Yeah. I was pretty mean. All of that time, what I really wanted was to have a haircut like yours. I don't know why I want one, but it's getting to me."
He smiled, shaking his head, but let me finish.
"Dad, I really have to have one. Please- can you take me to your barber and get me fixed up?"
He sat up. I sat up. He took my hand, questioning me further: "You'll be about the only kid in creation w/ this haircut, you know. Are you sure that this is what you want to do?"
In for a penny, in for a pound. I continued, my voice quaking in tune w/ my shaking body.
"I've been pretty mean to you, lately." Then, I simply shot out what I had to say before I could change my mind. " Really... I've wanted a haircut like yours for a long time."
Dad sat dumbstruck for a moment. I could see the wheels whirring in his mind. Suddenly, he stood up and led me to the front foyer.
"Alright- let's do it. I don't get it, but who am I to argue when my boy says something as nice as this? Let's go"
In a flash, he had us in our hats and coats. We were on our way to Leo's Barbershop in no time.
We must've gotten there during a slow time. The other two barbers had gone to lunch. Leo was alone, and the chair was open. Dad helped me out of his coat. He simply removed his hat and began chatting w/ Leo. I stood there, saying nothing.
"The boy, here, has just asked me for something really special."
Dad ran a hand over his haircut and told him: "He's just asked me to fix him up with one of these little beauties. Give him a flattop: Bald landing strip, lather shaved high up the sides and the back."
He smiled. "Just like mine." A smile broke across my face. If memory serves, I actually blushed right about then.
Leo looked at Dad, then looked at me in astonishment. He shook his head, then chuckled. He looked at me again and asked: "Are you sure? I haven't given a fella your age a Flattop in a long time."
My voice held as I told him: "yeah- just like his" as I pointed at my Dad.
"Okay. Have a seat and we'll fix you up."
Dad took off his topcoat and hat. He made himself comfortable across from me.
Leo wrapped the cape around my trembling body. The paper neck cloth felt tight against my neck. I almost came when he snapped the cape fasteners into place. Everything became crystal clear. Every smell in the shop became sharper: the talc, the aftershave, the smell of clipper oil assaulted my nose. The smells of an old fashioned barbershop were suddenly closing in on me.
The leather of the chair was aged just so. The give felt great, in tune with the cold metal of the rest of the chair. Leo pumped the chair, bringing my head up closer to the clippers.
The smile on Dad's face told me everything. He was so happy to see me in the barber chair. No turning back, then. I was about to get a short bristled GI haircut.
My eyes landed on a display of combs that Leo had for sale. Dad must've been following my gaze. "You won't need one of those," he chuckled. He pointed to another display and added, "that one will be more your style, now."
I looked at the poster that he'd indicated. The lettering screamed BUTCH WAX, in big blue letters. Next to it was a cartoon of a guy in an impossibly sharp looking Flattop. Thank god for the barber cape. My dick was shaking. I felt something wet in my crotch. I'd started to pre-cum already.
"We'll get ya a jar of butch wax before we leave. You'll need it." Dad said as he picked up a magazine. He added, "Tomorrow, I'll show you how to use it. There's a trick to working it in right."
I was shaking inside. My mouth went dry again. I was sure that Leo could hear my heart pounding in my chest.
"Just relax, Johnny. You're going to look really nice when we're done."
He pumped the chair up. From behind, I heard the clippers roar to life.
He made a few passes thru my hair with the comb.
Suddenly, the clippers appeared in the top of my view. He took aim, then mowed straight back over the top of my head. I could feel the clippers as they moved down the centre of my head. The first clump of hair fell onto my shoulder. Leo picked it up and asked if I'd like a souvenir. I gave a dorky reply. Leo dropped that first lock of my sacrifice into my lap.
I looked over to see Dad, watching intently. His magazine forgotten, the man was absolutely transfixed by the proceedings. Dad smiled his encouragement.
It suddenly felt very cool up there. Too late to change my mind. I had to go thru with this now.
Leo ran the clippers over my head again, over and over again. My shorn hair began to rain down on my lap. It steadily dropped onto my shoulders as it spilled off to the floor. My hair kept tumbling steadily into my lap. I watched it pile up around the chair.
"Funny thing about Flattops," Leo observed "Sometimes, they never grow back."
Dad smiled, rubbing his own tight brush of bristles. "That's true. Leo gave me my first one back in '48 and I'm still wearing it." He laughed. "'Guess that I'm stuck with this haircut for life."
My dick grew so hard that I had to shift in the chair. The barber and Dad laughed about that. They didn't see the hardon. They probably just assumed that they'd given me a good scare.
Then he changed to a smaller clipper. He began brushing my hair, then cutting it off. Every stroke of the blade buzzed loud against my frozen body. He seemed to finish up there. I couldn't move. The sound of tools moving around echoed behind me.
Dad got up, and put on his coat and hat. "I'll be back soon. Wait here for me." He grinned as he headed out the door.
Leo tried to make small talk. I responded as best I could. Every part of me was focused.
At one point, Leo laid the clippers flat against the side of my head. He mowed steadily backward. With every stroke, the hot blade warmed against my skin. As soon as it passed, a heavy chill blew against my scalp. He laid the clipper on the other side, mowing straight back. He continued around- almost to the top of my head in back. The hair was still brushing over my ears. For the moment.
In no time, Leo had skinned and peeled the sides of my head to bare stubble. My head felt cold. I felt very naked and vulnerable.
He lay down the clippers. During that break in the action I ran a hand over the top of my head. My fingers probed the longer hair toward the front of my head. It was already standing pretty much straight up. I lingered in the middle of my head. There was a patch of stubble, barely there at all. I felt the rest of my haircut. It felt sculpted- everything trimmed perfectly into shape.
I heard a screwtop lid opening. Suddenly, he was massaging something waxy into my hair- what was left of it. It smelled wonderful! He took his time, massaging it until every bristle on the top of my head was coated. Then he brushed everything straight up. He took his time. Each pass of the clipper made a noise as it mowed ever more of my hair away.
Finally, he finished on top.
I heard the hot lather machine. Soon, he was working a cloud of foamy lather all around the back and sides of my head. He pushed and massaged that warm foam almost all the way to the top of my head. Leo picked up a long razor, stropping it on the leather attached to the chair. Quick strokes- they tickled as the fine point made slick work of the sides of my head. Hot towels, then another lather. Then another shaving- this time against the grain.
A warm wet towel took away the remaining lather. My head felt very cold. I felt very naked- very unprotected.
My cock was pumping hard against my crotch. My whole body shook.
Leo dried the sides of my head. He took a short brush and pushed the deck of my haircut up to full erection. When he dusted the back and sides of my head with that brush, I let out a gust of breath and relaxed in the chair. My naked scalp. No hair to protect it. Every stroke of the brush played havoc with my nerves. Even my nipples felt strangely alive against my undershirt.
He left me sitting there, trying to maintain. He went to the window. The snow was falling faster now. He looked both ways, thinking. He looked back at me, then said:
"Ah, what the heck. It's gonna be a slow afternoon. Probably will close early."
With that, he tilted me back in the chair. This was the first time that my naked head met the cold leather of the headrest. I froze. It felt fantastic! I'd had no idea that I'd feel so bald and clean. Leo wrapped my face with another hot towel. The soothing heat felt great. I just lay there in the chair, luxuriating in the most incredible experience of my life. Leo covered my face in hot lather. I giggled a bit as he stropped another razor. This was fun. Carefully, very slowly, Leo whisked away the hair from my face. It was a surprise: I'd shaved that morning. Inspite of that fact, Leo's razor found some whiskers to shave. I really did feel/hear the razor shaving my face to a perfect smoothness. Another warm towel, and he cleaned me off.
He had just begun to razor away what remained my mustache when Dad walked in. Our eyes met. We smiled.
"Just giving the boy some extra sprucing up. No charge for the shave." he chuckled.
I almost forgot that Dad was there as Leo finished making my upper lip baby smooth. He wiped me off, then applied a lotion to my face. It smelled great- just like Dad smelled whenever he came back from the barbershop.
He tilted me back to a sitting position. The sides of my head felt itchy. Suddenly, Leo's fingers were all over my head. He massaged the lotion over the whole shaven area. Imagine how it felt, the first time that my newly bald sides felt someone touch them. It was electric ! The sensation was so intense that I thought that I would pass out.
Dad stood up. He joined us at the barber chair.
Leo chuckled and said: "Are you ready, Johnny?"
"Get ready for a real shock, son." Dad added with a broad grin. "You might not recognise yourself." And with that, Dad started to turn the barber chair toward the mirror.
I held my breath, closed my eyes, and felt the chair turn around.
Dad's reassuring voice whispered to me. I felt his breath on my ear: "Go ahead, Johnny. Take a look. It's great!"
I opened my eyes. My body went onto a shock and almost came at the same time. In the mirror sat a total stranger.
I put a hand to my head. The deck of the flattop stood perfectly erect. I could see the sheen of the wax against the tight horseshoe. The horseshoe ringed the top of my head, stopping before the back. It was very short. So short that it just barely stayed flat on top.
Boy! Was it flat! I lifted up my head. The hair in the front was perfectly erect. The whole top of my head was a perfect square, just rounded a little bit along the sides and tilted in slightly. I could've balanced a book on the deck of that flattop.
I tiled my head down a little bit. The center was perfectly bald. Leo had actually shaved the very center smooth. The bald strip connected with the back of my head.
Moving my head around, I noticed something. No hair moved anywhere. I kept moving my head up and down, side to side. It was fantastic. The butchwax glistened my deck to erect perfection. Just a flat and tight cap of hair on the top.
No doubt about it. This was a tight, clean GI haircut. Every line was absolutely flat and level. Leo had taken his time to make this Flattop a model of upright perfection.
Dad put his hand against the back of my head. Wow! I felt his fingers as they rubbed me and squeezed. Nothing could've prepared me for the feeling of being absolutely hairless on the back and sides of my head. No hair- none at all. Completely smooth and naked. My scalp was a glistening white.
My ears stuck out at a slight angle. With no hair to hide them, they popped right out. It was going to take some getting used to- looking so jug headed. My whole face glowed pale and smooth.
The major shock was how young I suddenly looked. That scared me. The hair had always made me look older. Buzzed now, into a tight flattop, I looked very young. My smooth face looked as though no hair would grow there at all. All of those years of trying to grow something- cancelled. My face was as smooth as a baby. I no longer saw the budding stud of the ninth grade when I looked in the mirror. A nagging fear chilled my gut. I looked like a goofy little kid. A 12-year-old kid was staring back at me in the mirror!
Dad was standing right next to me- proud as I've ever seen him. He was beaming from ear to ear. He palmed his ears, then mine. I'd never really noticed how big his ears were before. That's where I got from: even the shape of our ears was almost the same. It was then that I realised how egg-headed we both were.
There we sat- looking in the mirror. We wore the exact same haircuts now. We looked almost exactly alike. Suddenly, I'd become a junior version of Dad. A rock hard-on made me squirm.
II.
"Wow. You look great, kid. I'm just so proud of you." He placed a hand on my shoulder. I felt warm and happy inside.
Couldn't help it, a smile burst over my baby face. My ears perked up more- just like Dad's did when he smiled. It was thrilling so see how much I looked like him.
As I got out of the chair, Dad paid Leo. They made some small talk, both smiling, as they looked my way. I slipped my coat on and waited for Dad to finish.
He shook hands w/ the barber. As he crossed the shop, he said:
"Looks like you have a steady customer now, right son?" He smiled so broadly that I could only nod.
"That settles it, Leo. We'll both be back next week."
Leo smiled. His only reply was: "Always happy to have a new customer, Mr. Reeves. That lotion should keep him smooth until then."
Dad explained that the aftershave lotion also had a growth retardant. My face and the sides of my head would stay perfectly bald for almost a week. By Saturday, there might be just enough to shave.
Next Saturday? Another haircut?
"Next week?" I replied, startled, to myself. I hadn't thought that far ahead. Getting the haircut felt wonderful. I'd dreamed so long about being sheared and shaven. The sight of my flat head, in the reflection from the window, gave me an instant hardon.
Dad finished buttoning his coat as he quietly continued: "Why so surprised? You're looking so sharp that I think that we'll just keep you in that Flattop for awhile."
Kept in a Flattop? Brought to the barbershop for regular haircuts, with Dad? The thrill was almost more than I could stand. Somehow, the idea of wearing the same haircut as Dad's all of the time gave me a real thrill. I really wanted to be kept this clean and barbered for good. I didn't understand it.
Dad picked up a bag and started to fish something out of it. As he did, he said: "Don't worry, Johnny. I'll tell everyone that I'm making you wear that haircut. To keep ya looking that nice, I'll happily play the villain!"
He winked as he said that. I could've sworn that he knew how thrilled I was at that moment.
"Here's a little present from me. You've made me a really happy man today." He motioned toward my haircut. "Getting that haircut was about the best present that a son could give his dear old dad. I'm really touched."
He pulled a dark grey hat out of the bag. It was high crowned, narrow brimmed. It had a black hatband and a small feather on one side. Dad always wore one like it. Do did every other white collared Dad of that time.
"That haircut's going to be kinda cold outside. Your other hats won't fit you, now."
With that, Dad fitted the hat over my new haircut. It fit like a glove. Perfect. The crown slid smoothly over the deck of my Flattop, keeping it in shape. The hat hugged the upper sides of my head, resting comfortably on my forehead. The lining just barely touched the top of my head, tickling it. It made me very aware of my short haircut under it. The bristles rubbed against the leather inner band.
Out the door we went.
Instead of going home, Dad took us to lunch at the diner. I felt some qualms as I took of my hat. Quite a few people stared as we walked through to an empty table. Most of the patrons had at least combable hair. Dad and I were the only guys sporting Flattops.
Dad got a laugh when the waitress brought a "12 and Under" menu for me. I was furious at first, but Dad's warm chuckling brought me back to earth. I really did look like a little kid, but what the heck? He went ahead and ordered for the both of us.
We chatted calmly as we ate our lunch. It took no time at all for me to relax.
My hand kept going to the top of my head, though. Feeling the slick bristles was becoming addictive. Over the years I'd noticed that most men in Flattops tended to pat the tops of their heads. It hadn't passed my notice that they often rubbed the sides of their heads, too. Now, I was The Guy in the Flattop. Now, I understood.
My reflection kept drawing me. I couldn't help smiling. There we were: Dad and I in shaved and buzzed down Flattops. The reflection caught the both of us: our flattened jug eared profiles; the glint of our shaven & hairless sides reflecting in the overhead lights.
Dad's smile matched mine. At that afternoon I felt closer to him than I'd felt in a long time. It was then that I realised how much I'd missed his approval.
As we chatted, he began to ask some interesting questions.
"You had a powerfully strong need for that haircut. I don't understand it, but I'm pretty happy with this morning's events." Dad stroked his collar and tie thoughtfully.
"How far does this need extend, Johnny? Anything else that you want to try?"
I squirmed. I hemmed and hawed as Dad just sat there. He sipped his coffee while he waited. This whole thing obviously fascinated him. I tried to be noncommittal, but finally just had to spill it.
"Well, Dad: I really like the way you dress." That stopped Dad's coffee drinking in mid air. He stopped dead still. "I wouldn't mind putting on a tie more often- but we don't have to, if you don't want to. I dunno... I'm really scared by this."
My mouth went dry again. My heart was pounding as I gulped a whole glass of water. My whole body was as hard as my dick right then.
"Dad. I don't understand it, but I want to look a lot more like you." I shook my head in resigned confusion. My voice squeaked. Dad had to have noticed how much I was trembling. It all sounded as weird to me as it must've sounded to him. Silence, as I waited for the axe to drop.
Dad took pity on me. His face blossomed in a warm smile. "Well... I have kind of missed you, the last couple of years." He draped his hand over mine. He looked at me, drawing me into his eyes.
"It seemed as though you didn't want a dad anymore. I'd remember all of the things we used to do. Maybe a part of you misses all of that, too."
His voice stayed very even- very comforting. The rest of the world fell away. The space between us grew safe and warm. I realised what a special and wonderful guy he was. I started to feel guilty for all of the mean things that I'd said and done to him.
My voice choked. It seemed to go higher & softer as I whispered: "Dad, I'm sorry that I've been so mean to you. Yeah. I guess that I really want my Dad back again."
He squeezed my hand. We smiled. It almost looked like he was going to have some tears. He didn't, of course. In a very quiet voice, he said: "Johnny, if you want me to be your dad again, by god, then I'll be your dad again. Let's be a real father-son team, huh? Let's spend a lot more time together. How about it?"
That invitation went straight to the heart.
"T-that'd-d be great, Dad. Yeah." I felt so light and so safe right then. All of my worries about my friends and my inner conflicts vanished.
"And, if you really want to look like the Old Man," Dad winked confidentially; " I think that we can swing that as well." His voice sounded giddy and hopeful. He really became a friend at that moment.
We put on our wraps and headed out the door. The snow had slowed considerably. Just one of those light flurries that makes the whole world seem magical. He put an arm around me as we headed down the street. My neck and my ears started to tingle from the cold. The shaving left my face very sensitive to the air. The streets were full of happy people. I was one of them, now.
All of the hippies and fashionable types were strolling, the snow dusting their hair. I no longer looked like them. Something told me that I would never look like them again. That was fine. I had my Dad with me. Everything felt right, now. Dad and I wandered thru the streets, enjoying the afternoon. That mild winter day, in that old town, was a classic movie backdrop.
Dad steered us around a corner, motioning for me to follow. He stopped in front of optometrists' shop.
"I noticed that your glasses have been coming loose lately. Let's go in and get them fixed. Won't take but a minute."
We blew in from the cold. The doctor stood at the counter. I got the impression that he'd been waiting for us. He greeted us cheerfully, ushering us back to a booth. I handed my glasses over. He disappeared into the back.
We chatted very quietly, mostly about what movie we'd see. In the course of the conversation, Dad mentioned that this was where he got his glasses. The doctor returned w/ a brown leather case.
He snapped the case open. The case didn't hold my glasses. Dad looked at me expectantly as the doctor fitted them onto my face.
Very heavy, they were. The lenses were more of a rounded rectangle than my glasses had been. The frames were a plain, 1950s style, and flat black. They were very thick, very wide. At that time, the only people who wore glasses like these were little boys and recruits in Armed Forces boot camps.
Before I could say anything, the doctor slipped the glasses onto my trembling face. Done deal. My face quickly grew to savour the weight and the tightness of my new glasses. The shaven sides of my head felt the bows pushing and forming themselves. I could feel my ears sticking out. They fit tightly behind my ears, pulling the glasses flush to my face. The nosepiece had been narrowed w/ a black fitted "plug". The plug made my nose look flatter, and my glasses look bigger and thicker.
I took a look in the mirror. Then I looked at Dad. Then I looked back at the reflection. My cock started to get hard all over again. The glasses were the same style as Dad's. He'd been issued this style in the Army, and had stuck with it ever since. Sometimes I'd kidded him about them, but always put on a pair during my secret dress-up times. I could scarcely believe that I now had a pair of my own. My mind could barely grasp the fact that I'd be wearing these nerdy glasses all of the time. That was fine. I was enjoying the whole thing too much to think very much at all.
Before I could really take it all in, Dad spun my stool around. The optometrist produced a thick band of black elastic. It had loops on either end, and a buckle for loosening or tightening. The doctor slipped the loops into place. My glasses now held fast to my head. They wouldn't move at all as I turned to and fro. They sat fast and firm. The hairless skin of back of my head tried to flex and move against the elastic. No go. The band held flush against my skull. Those black glasses made my face look even more smooth and pale than before. Looking sideways, the bows and the sport strap caused the sides of my head to glow in bald relief. The frames were so thick that they hid my eyebrows. My face and head looked completely hairless- except for the tiny, clipped Deck Brush ringing the top of my head.
Dad looked very happy with my appearance. Affectionately, he pulled on the front w/ a finger. When it didn't wiggle very far he laughed. "You said that you wanted to look like me. This seemed like a good place to start." I started to feel proud of the fact that I looked so much like my Dad now. Somehow I knew that I would be wearing those big nerdy glasses for a very long time.
No doubt about it. The glasses and the haircut had turned me the spitting' image of my Dad. I looked like a nerdy kid from a 1950s sitcom. All of those longhaired kids at school were really going to tease me over this. So what? Strangely, I was thrilled at the thought of being teased. I'd be constantly reminded of my jarhead haircut.
"Just another token of my appreciation, Johnny. And you are deeply appreciated." He stood up and kissed the top of my head. An affectionate pat on the back came with it. You know it: I just beamed and lapped it all up. He paid the doctor for the "rush job" and I stepped out in my goofy new appearance.
I don't remember the movie. Dad picked the film. It doesn't matter. We had a great time. I do remember feeling very close to him that day. It reminded me of the closeness we shared when I was a little boy. He could've reacted very badly, but he hadn't. He'd been great.
The two of us sat and enjoyed the film. Our crewcuts and glasses glowed in the flickering light. Even in the dark, the two of us stood out from the rest of the crowd. All of the teenaged angst and squabbling between us vanished. We were just two happy Flattoppers- Father and Son- passing a magical day together.
That wonderful time still gives me a warm glow when I think about it.
I was already in bed when a knock came at the door. It was Dad. He leaned in, slipping a couple of hangered clothes onto the hook inside of my door.
He stepped in and sat on the edge of my bed. Dad patted the deck of my flattop and continued:
"You gave me a very special gift today, Junior." He motioned toward the clothes on the door. "In return, I thought that, maybe, you'd enjoy dressing up a bit tomorrow."
I took a closer look. In the garment bag hung one of Dad's 3pc suits. It was one of his darker grey, glen plaid numbers. I got a hard-on just looking at the bag. There was a dark burgundy tie folded neatly over the suit. It had navy and grey stripes in it. Behind the suit, I spied a white shirt. It was one of Dad's high tab collared shirts. Wow!
Inspite of myself, a broad smile worked its way across my face. Dad gave me a knowing grin and continued: "I suspect that you'll know just what to do with those in the morning."
He hugged me again. He hadn't been so tender in so long. Dad kissed my shaved landing strip, all the time rubbing the back of my head. All I could do was slump into his arms and lap it all up.
"G'night, Junior. It's good to have my boy back again."
And with that, he tucked me in and turned off the light. Sleep was hard in coming that night. I tossed and turned.
The moment that my pillow touched the shaved sides of my haircut, I went rock hard. My hand kept rubbing my squared off head. I tossed and turned.
My naked face kept snuggling the cool pillowcase. The lack of a 5 o'clock shadow felt great. I had really grown to enjoy my smooth, beardless face.
Every time I started to fall asleep, I'd think about the clothes that were hanging on the door. They were waiting for me. In the morning I would put them on. I would be seen by everyone, dressed in a business suit.
The excitement finally became unbearable.I blasted off to sleep with the strongest orgasm yet experienced.
At 7 o'clock I came wide awake with a roaring hard-on. My body went from sound sleep to shaking with excitement in the blink of an eye.
I had to jerk off before even thinking of getting out of bed.
Off I went to the bathroom. When the light flipped on, I re-experienced the shock of yesterday at the barbershop. It took a split second to recognise myself. Perhaps a small side of me had hoped that yesterday had only been a phenomenal wet dream. It wasn't.
My hair had been cut so short and so precisely that it was still squared into place. The few hairs that had strayed snapped to erect attention when I touched my head.
The very stop centre was still almost slick bald. The sides of my head were still bare to the skin. No sign of regrowth at all.
For several weeks, I'd enjoy the shock and the thrill of waking up in a Flattop. Each day, the thrill would be joined by a growing sense of "Yes: this is the way that it should be."
My face was still smooth, even though almost 18 hours had passed since my last shave. By next week, I'd have the barest hint of stubble. Then Leo would shave and re-lotion my face. My baby face broke into a grin when I thought of my next trip to the barbershop. My dick grew hard again. I was really going to like this!
Being this hairless certainly made morning cleanup a snap. A few minutes to wash my whole head with a bar of soap and I was done.
When I came back into the bedroom, Mom had left a clean set of underwear on my dresser. It took a minute to climb into the underwear. My fingers kept exploring the snowy white T-shirt and boxer shorts. They smelled freshly laundered, and were still warm from my mother's iron. Everything fit perfectly. They were my Dad's underwear, and I'd grown into them. There I was, dressed in my Dad's underwear.
It felt so clean, so wholesome. Just moving around in an undershirt and boxer shorts tickled my body.
I knew that I was beaming with pleasure.
When I lifted the socks, two garters clattered onto the dresser. Oh my god! Dad really did know all about my dress-up sessions. That was embarrassing. My face turned crimson. I know it did. I caught my reflection in the mirror. My face blushed from my chin to the top of my head.
Hurriedly, I slipped the stockings up over my calves. I snapped the garters into place.
Then I simply sat there; staring at the garment bags that hung on the door.
I'd have to put it all on now. My mind could almost see my parents, at the table, waiting for me to get dressed. They were probably talking about it right then.
My secret dress-up sessions were over. My deepest fantasies had come true. I would have to put on a white shirt and dark tie. I would put on a grey suit.
In a few minutes I would step out of my bedroom in a crewcut and a suit. In a few minutes I would be sitting with my parents, dressed in my Dad's clothes. My parents would see me as I truly felt inside: as the squarest kid in the world.
Again, a side of me wanted to call all of this off. I thought of just putting on my jeans and telling them that I'd changed my mind. How could I do that, though? They were so happy to see me as I looked yesterday. I couldn't remember a time when they'd been so warm and so full of approval.
My "confession" and their happy reaction to it had really trapped me into this.
With a sense of surrender, I took the shirt off the hanger. My hand slowly broke the starch as it slid into the sleeve of the shirt. The crackle of the stiff material dispelled my fears and doubts. Buttoning myself into that rigid white shirt sent my body into spasms of joy.
Unlike the slow striptease-like buttoning of my dress-up sessions, my fingers flew up the button panel. Each button pushed thru the stiff buttonhole faster than had the previous one.
In no time, I found myself buttoning my collar. The material crackled a bit as the collar closed snugly around my neck. The shirt was so heavily starched that the collar had a smooth, glossy sheen. I flexed my neck and turned my head a bit to enjoy the tight confinement.
My hands were trembling. Now, I was in a rush to put on all of those wonderful clothes. This was the day that I'd long dreamed of. My heart was racing. My mind pushed my body, hungrily gobbling every second of this stellar experience!
I picked up the tie. Something dropped into my hand. It was a tie tack. Closer examination showed it to be a dark onyx stone in silver setting. I knew this tie tack. It was an anniversary gift from Mom, with Dad's initials engraved in silver: EHR. It was Dad's favourite.
I knew that Mom never went into Dad's jewelry case. Dad had to have picked it out for me. He wanted me to wear this. It was his way of telling me that everything would be all right.
Quickly, I knotted my tie and made the adjustments. I proudly fastened Dad's tie tack, stroking my tie for a moment or so. Finally, I adjusted the tie knot. With a resounding "snap", the tabs pulled the collar tightly into place. The tabs held my collar almost vertical- a solid band of formal restriction that imprisoned neck.
I almost passed out from the pleasure.
Finally the suit. Oh yes: it was fresh from the cleaners and flawlessly pressed. This was a different experience. I'd always been careful to dress-up in suits that had been set aside for the cleaners. Today, I was going to put on a suit that was clean and ready for business.
My snug collar pulled tight and my tie moved on its chain as I bent over to put on the trousers. That, and the pressed wool of the trousers, gave me an indescribable sense of well being.
My body moved to the music of the fabric. My legs tingled and swayed against the cool lining of the trousers. The trousers fit perfectly, as always.
The knot of excitement dissolved in my stomach. It exploded thru my body, as I grew happier than I'd ever been.
My cock settled, but a throb & a tingle danced deep in my groin. My buttocks eagerly snuggled against the underwear. I swear that I could feel both the layer of white cotton and grey wool as they fit around my tusch.
No more hiding. No more sneaking around. I was putting on a suit. I was going to wear a suit today- in public, in front of everyone.
My vest slid effortlessly over my body. It hugged my form, somewhat changing it. My broad chest and slim waste somewhat evened out, giving me a somewhat portly appearance.
As always, the contrast of brilliant white shirting played off of the drab grey wool. Seeing this never fails to stir me, even so many years later.
A Man in a vest is a glorious thing to behold. Truly, a man at his finest!
Still entranced, I slipped on my black oxfords. Then I headed back to the bathroom. The butch wax still held firm, so a few quick strokes of a brush had my Flattop standing straight to attention.
It was quite a thrill, seeing myself in the mirror. My smooth chin seemed to glow against the brilliant white of my shirt collar.
My collar hugged my neck snugly. Even after snapping the tabs, the collar held its stiff sheen to perfection. It stood almost straight up, pushing my chin up and my ears way out. The immaculate white made my haircut look incredibly crisp and precise.
I stood back, stroking my tie with pleasure. The shirt ballooned out just right. My tie sat just so. I caught a seductive shadow of my T-shirt under the white sleeve of the dress shirt. The vest and the trousers drabbed the silhouette of my body to a strictly business simplicity.
My image was so immaculately clean-cut. From the mirror smiled an office boy from 1958. I'd proudly stand out in any crowd, especially in 1970. I looked so proper and so straight arrow now. This brought a sense of completion. Yes- this was how I was meant to look.
My whole body felt light and breezy as I left the bathroom. In one movement I took my suit coat from the hangar and slipped it over my shoulders. It settled into place. Perfect fit, of course.
I took a few extra minutes to attend to some last minute details. The right pocket square, folded just so, into my pocket. Another adjustment to my tie. A quick, last minute shine to bring my shoes to a spit-n-polish gloss.
Yes, I was being overly fastidious. That didn't bother me one bit. This was such a fantastic day. I meant to do it to perfection.
My hand clutched the doorknob. A radiant calm took over. Then, I remembered something: my glasses.
Almost reverently, I set them on my nose. The bows hugged my denuded head. The nosepiece settled firmly, moving not on iota.
Those heavy black frames almost overwhelmed my face. They reshaped my features, making me look very bookish. They set off my dark business suit to great advantage.
There. Finished. Ready to go. My dick throbbing, my spirits soaring, I stepped out to present my new self to my family.
My parents must've heard me come down the hall. When I rounded the corner, they had stopped eating. They were astounded. Silence held for a moment.
Both of them broke into applause with a happy cheer. All right: I confess. Something made me do a complete turn around for them. I wanted to show them my new suited appearance from every angle.
Mom leaped up and gave me long, tight hug. That felt great. This was the first time that someone had hugged me while I was dressed in a suit. Every part of my body relaxed.
"Such a handsome young man, you are!" she bubbled. Her eyes were dewy. Her face glowed with pride. I blushed. That brought a chuckle from the both of them.
Dad joined us, patting me on the back. He fiddled a bit with my tie. He straightened my lapels. He sighed with satisfaction.
"Looking good, Junior." was all that he could say as he ushered me to my chair at the table.
Nobody said very much during breakfast. The three of us simply exchanged fond glances and happy smiles at each other. When we finished, I asked to be excused. I started to help clear the table. Mom held out a gentle hand to stop me.
"Not this morning, Dear. That's fine. I'll take care of these."
Dad and I just sat there, in matching Flattops, reading the morning paper. Every now and then, I'd catch him peeking at me. He'd just smile and shake his head. He was dressed, as usual, in a shirt and tie. He wore a cardigan sweater over his shirt, though. Dad looked very cozy and comfortable.
The contrast in our outfits was thrilling. Decked out in a 3pc suit, I was dressed more formally than my Dad was.
These few moments were a great learning experience. I quietly studied him. He moved differently than did someone more casually dressed. Here was a man who could relax in a collar and tie. I would have to learn how to move that way now. I was too excited to relax.
I was too excited to relax.
Mom knocked around in the kitchen. She was obviously inventing reasons to pass by the doorway, pause to get a look at her suited son, and then scurry back to her chores.
After awhile, Dad put down his paper. He called out toward the kitchen, smiling my way: "Honey, don't bother to set out anything for dinner. An occasion such as this deserves a night out."
She didn't reply. I did hear her dialing to make reservations, though.
Dad reached into his pocket, pulling out the car keys. He then produced a small sheet of paper. He shoved the both of them across the table to me. I scanned the paper. It was a list of easy chores.
"Junior, here are some things that I need for you to do today. I have a pile of work from the office, or I'd do them myself."
"Do you think that you could help me out?" He was beaming. A folded pile of bills crossed the table. "This should cover the costs. There's some extra for lunch, my treat."
"Sure thing, Dad. I mean: yes Sir!"
A mischievous twinkle caught his eye. He chuckled and continued: "Besides, this'll give you a chance to step out in your new image." My collar suddenly felt tight. I started to sweat. A deep throb set off in my groin.
Dad was sending me out in broad daylight like this. I was going to go out in a suit and tie. Everyone would see me dressed in a suit, sporting this haircut!
I quivered slightly from the thrill. No more hiding. Today the whole world would see me, looking the way that I'd always dreamed of looking.
We chatted as we walked to the foyer. Dad opened the closet, producing one of his dress car coats. It covered my suited form, caressing my suit closer to my body. This was a coat that I'd seen him wear hundreds of times. It was heavy grey mohair, with black short-nap fur trim. It had plenty of room to move in, but fit me very well. It fell to just the right point below the knee.
He set a heavy narrow brimmed hat on my head, adjusting it just right. The hat was charcoal grey, ribboned, with a small burgundy feather tucked into the bow on the side.
It occurred to me that it fit too well to be one of his hats. Dad read my mind. He opened the closet a little wider, motioning for me to look. Sitting in the racks were several new hats, of various weights and colours. They were all mine.
"What the heck? They were on sale," he said in a casual tone. He adjusted the brim a little more. He was obviously enjoying this. "And they're more appropriate for White Collar Men like us."
That impish twinkle reappeared. He added: "Besides, we're both going to be wearing our Flattops for a long, long time. Our style of haircut needs good head cover."
I started to fasten my coat when Mom hurried into to join us. "Junior, since you're going out..." she slipped a list of her own into my hand. A quick feel told me that more money was wrapped in the note.
She produced a burgundy scarf, fiddling and wrapping it on me. It didn't escape my notice that she let my collar and tie stick out, though.
With another deep breath, I stepped out for the first time in my new appearance. The day was cold and clear. My oxfords slipped more easily on the sidewalk, but I made it to the car without a mishap.
Just as I opened the car door, someone called out, "Mr. Reeves?" It was the neighbour. Oh boy! He scrambled quickly up the driveway, holding a package. He would be the first person to see me dressed this way. A momentary set of nerves passed to excitement.
"Mr. Reeves, this package was delivered by..." his eyes registered surprise. He'd thought that he was addressing my father. "..mistake. Oh! Sorry John. I didn't recognise you."
His eyes zeroed in on the collar and tie firmly hugging my neck. All I could do was smile.
"Well! Uh...is your father home? This was addressed to him."
"Yes, Mr.Sorenson. Mom and Dad are both home. Shall I let you in?"
My tone really sent his mind spinning. Only the day before I was a typical grubby teenager with no couth. My new appearance and polite manners stunned him. To his credit, he recovered.
"That quite alright, Johnny. I'll just deliver the package and have a nice chat."
The surprise in his voice gave way to something very cordial. He nodded and started up the sidewalk. He made it to the door, and then turned around.
"You look really nice, John", he called. "Keep up the good work."
I touched the brim of my hat in reply, and then drove away.
The whole day passed in similar fashion.
It wasn't frightening at all. It was quite the opposite, in fact. Going about my errands in a my new clean-cut appearance proved to be a happy adventure. I parked the car and walked everywhere. Dressed so finely, I virtually paraded down the sidewalks of the town. I caught the eye of everyone who passed, smiling and nodding. It was contagious. Everyone smiled back at me.
Store clerks treated me with a respect that I'd never before experienced. Most were younger men, dressed in suits or in a shirt and tie. Often, we were the only people in the store sporting suits. This made me feel bonded to them. As we transacted purchases, I could feel our eyes scanning each other's ties. The sense of camaraderie was intense.
For lunch, I chose a place near the banks and law offices. It proved to be a good choice. Almost all of the patrons were dressed for business.
Nothing but white shirts and grey, black, and navy suits stretched out as far as the eye could see. Every one of the men were soberly dressed and groomed. They seemed very much at ease in their suited finery.
My heart fluttered. My raging hard-on almost killed my appetite- almost. Taking a seat, I vanished into the crowd. I became just another white collared diner. I looked quite a bit younger than the other patrons, but only I seemed to notice that fact.
My GI haircut drew some curious looks from some of the younger men. A few looked worried. A hand would occasionally drift upward to touch a full head of hair. That was a kick.
I noted a fair number of crewcuts and Flattops on the older men. The sight of such men relaxed me considerably. I was dressed and barbered just like them. Occasionally, one of those suited burr-heads would catch my eye. They would favour me with an approving nod, patting the tops of their own shorn scalps.
I really don't remember what I ordered. The whole experience so jazzed me that it passed in a contented blur.
After lunch I just wandered through the stores. It felt so good to be out in the world in my new appearance. Taking a quick turn around a corner, I passed by Leo's Barbershop. Leo looked up just as I passed his window. We both smiled. I took off my hat, waving it in a salute to the man who'd shorn me so cleanly.
The young guy in his chair looked very worried. I was decent enough to suppress my laugh until well out of sight of the poor man.
A few extra dollars remained in my pocket as I passed a department store. A quick memory jog told me that Dad and I had been there last night. With my cock madly banging against my suit pants, I strolled in.
The clerk in the Men's Department was the same one who'd waited on us last night. His eyes lit up as he greeted me. As we chatted, he fidgeted with his tie. Watching him as he fingered that silky material almost caused me to pass out from rapture.
I asked to see his tie selection again. We spent the next hour discussing and looking over almost every tie in the place. He showed me tie clips, tie tacks, and collar bars.
Every time that I stroked my collar, or adjusted my tie, the clerk would suppress a chuckle. I noticed that he had been doing the same thing.
It was pretty obvious that this gentleman enjoyed his work. The clerk proved to be the department manager.
No- this never led to anything. If he was, indeed, trying to make a pass at me, it went right over my head. It would be a few years yet before I figured THAT out about myself.
Many years later, as an experienced suit and tie fetishist, I wonder...
The upshot of that pleasant hour was that I walked out with two new ties. The manager even threw in a couple of tie clips at no extra charge.
I had just made my first business wear purchase.
The afternoon ended all too soon. I returned home euphoric.
Dad offered me the evening paper when I returned. I settled into the living room while he worked in the den.
For a couple of hours I lounged in a chair, reading the paper. I read it from cover to cover in a slow, leisurely fashion. For the first time, my suited body began to relax. It all felt very natural.
Every time I moved, my coat would slip against my vest. The suit would move in tune to my body, resettling around me, as I grew more and more contented. The weight of the suit wrapped me in a cocoon of woolen comfort. Crossing my legs set my trousers moving against my stockings. My boxer shorts tickled and tormented my throbbing cock with their white cotton rectitude.
My tie would bulge when I swallowed. I would catch myself absently stroking the silky satin. My fingers would squeeze and play a tune against the knot, still bound firmly against my collar. Still stiff as a board, my collar stood tall and snug. The tabs kept it firmly in place around my neck.
My starched collar would occasionally bump up against the back of my skull. the back of my head was still so cleanly shaved that the starched material slid against the bare skin. Man: it felt amazing! That made me smile. Running my fingers across the bristled brush of my Flattop sent me into another zone altogether.
I acted like I was reading the paper. Of course I was buzzing on the sensation of the naked skin, the tight bristles tickling the tips of my fingers. No telling how long I was doing that. Suddenly, a sound broke the reverie. Dad was standing in the doorway. Before I could react he gave me an approving nod and a smile. He ran a hand across his own tight Flattop and winked at me. He told me that dinner was ready and left the room, still stroking the shaved skin at the back of his own head.
I drifted into the dining room, blissfully content with my new Flattop and my formal business dress.
Yes- this was the way that it should be. I hoped that it would always be this way!
The first teacher to see my new look was Mr. King- my drafting teacher. I was really nervous. I hoped that Mr. King would tell me that I didn’t look as dumb as I felt.
That old Army sergeant just stared at me for a minute. Then he laughed: “What the hell did you do to yourself, Kid? I almost didn’t recognise ya.” He said that I looked like a soldier out on weekend pass.
I tried to laugh it off. He kept probing. Finally I told him that it’d been an impulse thing. Dad had taken it as a kind of Christmas present, so I was stuck with it.
Mr. King thought that the whole thing was pretty weird, but whatever. He warned me that I’d be in for a lot of grief from the other kids. He said that I looked really sharp in a Flattop, though. “I hope ya decide to keep it.”
He joked that sometimes Flattops never grow back. 30 years from now, I’d probably still be wearing that same haircut. He was right.
He & I became tight after that. Now as a fellow Flattopper, Mr. King turned me into his pet. The other kids called me a brown noser. He had me take attendance and issue equipment. He gave me extra help with my projects.
He always kidded me about my weekly trips to the barber shop. On Fridays, he’d tell me: “See ya Monday, Soldier. Get a dang haircut!” I’d reply with a sharp salute and an eager: “Right away, Sir!”
On Mondays, he’d always check my fresh cut. He’d set a ruler on the deck of my Flattop and say: “You passed inspection, soldier. Now get to work.”
Mr. Howard was the school principal- a total jerk. When he wasn’t yelling at someone he was busting kids for the smallest infractions. Kids with long hair were his favourite targets. He wore a high & tight burr with a butch waxed bumper in the front.
Unfortunately he was the 1st person I met walking down the hall. My gut twisted. I got a hard-on. Mr. Howard just came up, shook my hand, and praised my appearance. He was all smiles.
When I replied: “Thank you, Sir”, the creep was all smiles. Still, he wondered why I’d changed so drastically for the better.
I told him that I was tired of my attitude & wanted to try something new. I fingered my buttoned collar and joked that Dad was picking out my clothes now, too.
The principal was impressed! He offered to help out in any way that he could.
The rest of the morning was kind of nerve wracking. I was glad that Mr. King had reacted so well to my new appearance. Mr. Howard acting like my new best friend was kind of unnerving, though. It meant that he’d be keeping a closer eye on me.
The other kids hated my new haircut. Most just cut me off. Some pointed & laughed at me as I walked down the halls. Even the ones who were nice to me said that I looked ridiculous.
I enjoyed the humiliation on one level. The other part of me got tired of the constant stares and jokes. I was starting to hate the way that I looked. I could’ve kicked myself for getting that stupid haircut.
I fled to the library, where I knew that Wayne would be happy to see me. Wayne was a junior who interned in the school library.
Wayne was from California. His father won him in the divorce. They came back to town to get away from his hippy mother. When they got here, his dad had Wayne’s hippy length hair sheared into a tall, spiky Flattop. He made him wear a bow tie every day. He put the kid through a church-run behaviour modification program. He was determined to turn Wayne into a crewcut Christian straight arrow.
It backfired. Wayne loved it! The forced haircuts and bow ties just amped up his suit and haircut fetishes. Wayne enjoyed the ride. He turned into the kind of guy that he wanted to be anyway.
His dad sent him to the Study Academy. The school put him back one year so he’d get 4 full years of their academic and Social Reform training. Wayne was in freak in freak heaven.
The school liked his positive attitude. When he asked about becoming a librarian, they sent him over to our school library a few hours a week to start his training.
I fell half in love with Wayne the first time I saw him. One look at his flattop & bow tie and I knew that I wanted him for a friend. One look at me and he knew my whole story.
We became friends that day. I eventually told him about my secret urge to cut off my hair & put on a tie. I thought he’d laugh. He didn’t. He got really excited about it. Every day, he’d do something to encourage me. Sometimes he’d let me touch his haircut, then tell me how great I was going to look in a Flattop.
When he saw that my Dad was a Flattopper, he really put on the pressure. He pushed me into finally asking for the haircut.
When I walked into the library he broke down & applauded. His reaction made me feel better about all of the hassle. He knew that I’d finally have to do it.
Wayne’s support helped me get thru the first few weeks. He helped me learn to enjoy all the teasing that I got from classmates & teachers. I started enjoying my role as the school joke.
So, for the rest of the school term, I attended school looking like this. This was during the early 70s, when even the teachers were adopting a more casual appearance. The other kids joked and made fun of me for dressing up every day. I’ll admit it: there were times when I desperately wanted to call this whole thing off and go back to the free and easy style that I’d had before.
Being a bug eyed, burr-headed nerd proved a rough adjustment. I was thrilled to look like a nerdy little kid, but I wasn’t thrilled with the way that the other kids treated me.
Before I'd given in to the Flattop, I was considered a pretty cool guy at school. Guys no longer perceived me as competition. I was always invited to parties. After the haircut, all of that stopped. I now looked too silly and too juvenile. I wasn’t fun anymore.
After one particularly bad bout of teasing from the kids, I begged Dad to let me grow my hair and go back to my jeans. My parents froze, shocked. I'd been such a clean-cut, obedient son for so long. This ran counter to my months of stiff collared obedience.
Dad tried to reason, firmly but sympathetically. I argued. Dad began to threaten. I defiantly ignored the warning signs.
Suddenly, Dad grabbed me. In one smooth move, he had me pinned across his lap. I bucked and struggled and fought him. Escape was impossible. My collar and tie seemed to pull tighter, making me feel even more helpless in Dad’s iron grip. He kept my head in a firm headlock. As I kicked, I felt him pulling down my pants.
This spanking was rougher than any that I'd had before. It hurt. It hurt a lot. My bottom was on fire. The agony was unbearable. I sobbed and wiggled as Dad's hand blistered my bottom for what seemed like hours. In no time, Dad had me begging and screaming for forgiveness.
After a time, I dumped onto my knees. I buried my head in Dad's lap and cried. It poured out of me. My whole body heaved as the tears forced their way out. Dad's hand stroked the back of my head as my crying ran its course.
Dad gently helped me to my feet and gave me a long hug. He straightened my tie while Mom pulled up & re-tucked my pants. They both smoothed out my coat as I tried to choke back the sobs. I was sent to the corner to sit on a hard wooden chair for an hour.
The spanking was painful and humiliating. Dad hadn’t spanked me like that since I was a small boy. Still, I submitted to his correction with humility & gratitude. It was reassuring to know that Dad intended to keep me under such firm control.
I happily submitted to the New Discipline that rigidly defined my life from then on. Although I generally stayed on my best behaviour, I did slip occasionally. Spanking was always the penalty for such slips. I submitted to my punishment like a good boy. The spankings hurt, but reassured me of my place in the family. They began to feel strangely fulfilling as well.
SCHOOL UNIFORM
Later that week, Mom brought in a dark green blazer and a pair of grey slacks. The blazer was a double breasted 6 button model with gold buttons on the body and the sleeves. She had me try it on. It fit well, as did the slacks. The coat and pants were very well made, with full linings and small details.
I liked it. Having never worn a double breasted blazer before, this was a real treat. Mom asked if I’d like to wear it to school in the morning.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, “This is really nice. Thank you.” I continued to examine myself in the mirror. The outfit really looked sharp.
“Good. I’m glad that you like it.” My mother replied. “This was your Father’s school uniform, from when he was a boy. It was in such good condition and I thought that it just might fit you.” She handed me four bow ties: green like the jacket with small black & white stripes.
So this was Dad’s school uniform. I examined the coat closely. The buttons were stamped with the school crest. A pocket patch bore the symbol of the school. I liked the design. I recalled that the school had closed years ago, so nobody would mind if I sported the emblems.
In the morning I dressed in my new outfit, taking extra care to tie the bow just right. This was Dad’s uniform and I wanted to do it justice. When I buttoned the coat I felt very smart and very dressed up. Dad was very pleased when I came out to breakfast. His warm approval gave a special glow to the day.
My outfit got rave reviews from Wayne. That didn’t surprise me, given his bow tie fetish.
That night, Dad told me to keep the uniform. He even brought a couple more coats and slacks out of storage for me. When looking for the clothes, he found a box with a dozen school ties. He gave those to me as well.��
“Seeing you dressed like this brings back memories. You remind me of myself when I was your age.” He showed me an old school photo. It was a shock. I really looked exactly like he did when he was my age: same haircut, same uniform, same glasses.
Dad continued to march me off to the barbershop with him every Saturday. My haircut, under Dad’s strict orders, was kept buzzed down, waxed up, and skin bald on the sides & back. My facial hair was gradually destroyed by Leo’s aftershave lotion. My face is as smooth as a baby’s to this day.
I looked forward to our Saturday trips to the barbershop. With each passing trip, Dad and I grew closer. Looking like him made me proud. I cared less and less about what the other kids said about my haircut. It felt nice to be teased about my shaved and bristled Flattop. I got a hard-on every time someone kidded me about my appearance.
A NEW NAME
About a month later, Dad gave me a very special gift. Dad had been calling me Junior for quite awhile. It seemed perfectly natural to make it legal.
It was simple. We talked to the judge. Dad paid a fee and some paperwork was shuffled around.
45 minutes later, my name was legally changed from John David Reeves to Edwin Alfred Reeves, Jr. My heart skipped a beat as I saw the document bearing my new name.
My mind rolled and wrapped around my new name. It sounded very square and old fashioned- very formal. I loved that.
Late that night I got up and went to the bathroom. I stared at the boy in the mirror. My crisply barbered head glistened in the lights. Compulsively, I brushed my flattop to attention. My nipples tingled; my hands trembled, as I slipped my glasses into place.
Carefully, I searched the mirror for some sign of the studly guy that I'd been a few months ago. He wasn’t there anymore. A homely little geek stood in his place.
He wasn't the same old Johnny anymore. Who was he? Another thought emerged: Johnny had been a young man, Edwin was a boy – a Daddy's boy.
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