and thats the last long hair picture


Here are the tiny, tiny pictures on the Homework sleeve. I tried to fix them up a little bit but the scanner I’m using is just not very good. The first one is Guy-Man singing with Darlin’.

Some burning questions I have about these that will probably never be answered: Is that baby Thomas with the long curly hair? What even is that third picture? Is that Guy-Man playing guitar in the last one? (I think it is, though.)

kaimousy  asked:

Totally don't hate you, but I'll just copy-paste my last message if that's ok with you: "Hi, I loved your "Long Distance" fic way too much, and I just wanted to say I really adore when Genos is a lil shit, I'd love to read more of that. Also, as a prompt, there a fics where Saitama suddenly grows hair, but how about REALLY long hair (I picture Genos braiding it)"

Thanks again! So I was all, “Oh man, this will be something cute and short and sweet.” And then I started writing it. Enjoy.

PS - if anyone wants to illustrate this, I certainly wouldn’t object.

It had started as an excited, tinny squeal.

Then, it had escalated to a repeated “YES, YES, YES!”

But finally, it turned to a horrified, “NO! Nononono - GENOS!”

Genos had already been outside the bathroom door. Not that he was listening in on his Sensei’s shower - perish the thought - but he had been carefully timing it to add to his notes. His teacher had been in there for much longer than usual. And he certainly wouldn’t say as much, but the smell was…strange…that was coming from under the door.

He hadn’t sensed any intruders via his scanners, but Genos still burst in with the flame attachment on his hand glowing. He splayed his fingers, the bathroom growing hotter with the threat of his attack. “Sensei?”

The man who stood in front of him certainly didn’t look like the older hero. If not for the dark eyes - eyes that Genos was surprised to realize he knew instantly - he would not have recognized him. Those same deep eyes went huge at the sight of his weapon. “Put that down before you burn it up!”

It. ‘It’ was a flowing cascade of black hair.

It was nothing like the pictures Genos had found of Saitama when he was younger. This wasn’t any sort of sporty short mess of a cut like it seemed was his style so long ago. No, this was thick and shiny, luxurious. Immediately, Genos had to fight the urge to reach out and touch it. Saitama seemed less than thrilled with the locks that easily reached the back of his knees. “This is not what I had in mind!”  

“Sensei, how did this happen?”

As Saitama pressed his forehead against the mirror, he handed a bottle of green liquid to Genos. The label was in a language that he could not read. He took a whiff. It smelled like algae and crude oil. He scanned it. There were at least three chemicals he was not able to identify. And half of the bottle had been used. “Where did you find this?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light so as not to cause more stress.

“It was on one of those late night infomercials. I couldn’t sleep, and I ordered it, and…” He glared at himself. “Why does it have to be either one extreme or the other?!”

“We can get it cut, Sensei,” Genos tried to reason.

He whimpered in response. Too soon.

“There is nothing that will be accomplished in the bathroom at this point,” Genos went on, softening his tone even more. “Come into the living room, and I’ll help you with it.”

With a petulant reluctance, Saitama conceded. He walked in and sat down in front of the couch. He immediately made an undignified sound as he sat on the dark mane flowing behind him. He looked like he would have performed a sequence of consecutive normal punches on his own head if Genos had not quickly slid behind him and collected the strands in his hands. A tremor of something ran through his very core. It was like silk.

“Careful,” Saitama said. “Don’t get it all tangled up.”

“I will be careful, Sensei, I promise.” He started to easily part the waves of hair with his fingers, jumping a bit when he glanced against Saitama’s cheek.

When he froze for a little too long, Saitama tipped his head back. He had his eyes squeezed shut. “Is that easier? I can’t believe you’re doing this…”

“Uh…yes. Thank you, Sensei.” He continued, easily separating it into three rows and starting to weave a thick braid.

Saitama’s face relaxed noticeably, and there was actually a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I had forgotten how this felt,” he said, softly. “When I used to get my hair cut, I would nearly fall asleep. It’s relaxing.”

Genos made a small, appreciative sound. “It is very becoming on you, Sensei.”

His teacher’s lips quirked a bit, and he thought that he was going to retort with something to derail the compliment, but instead he reached back with one hand towards Genos’s head. The cyborg turned forward, pressing his forehead against the hero’s palm. His fingers played in the short, synthetic strands. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes. I have adjustable sensitivity circuits that run throughout my body. I can increase them for field work or decrease them in battle. Obviously, though, there is some feedback when I take damage, and-”

“Is it nice?”


“Does it feel nice?”

Genos closed his eyes for a moment, just focusing on the sensation of his teacher’s fingertips. He let out a short breath of steam from an exhaust in his back. “Yes. It is.”

“Are you almost done?”

“Oh, yes, Sensei.” Genos snapped back to attention on his master’s hair but did not fail to notice how the hero’s hand had remained, moving down to now stroke the side of his face, tracing patterns near his ear. Genos moved to give him better access, and Saitama explored the curves of his neck, his jawline, and then jumped a bit when he found his mouth. Genos gasped as well, but let him remove his hand. “Done,” he said, trying not to seem breathless.

Saitama reached back to stroke the long cord. “Oi, it’s heavy. Thick, too. Like that guy in the American show with the horses and kingdoms and stuff.”

“Khal Drogo from Game of Thrones.”

“Yeah! Hey, I thought you didn’t like that show.”

“I did not. But…Sensei did.”

“Meh, I liked the first season. But when they killed off the old guy I was, like…not into it as much.” He pulled the braid over his shoulder, stroking it. “Thanks, man. This is…a lot easier to handle.” He got quiet after that.

Genos carefully stood up and stepped around him, crouching down. “Is it okay, Sensei?”

His face had been solemn, but he cracked a smile when he realized that Genos was staring at him so seriously. “Yeah, I said it was!”

“You do not seem pleased.”

“It’s just…” Saitama rolled his eyes, more at himself than the younger man in front of him. “How to put this…I saw the way you looked at me when you came in the bathroom. What if it’s not permanent? What if I go back to being the Caped Baldy tomorrow? I think you’re just going to resent me unless I keep doing this. Or, worse, you already resent me because I resorted to such a cheap vain trick just to be…just to have…you know what I mean. Is this what I’m teaching you now? That it’s worth it to inconvenience people you love just so you can feel better about a part of yourself that shouldn’t bother you in the first place? That it’s…uh, Genos, you’re steaming.”

Genos hadn’t even noticed. He was too shocked by how much his Sensei had just said - nearly three times as many words as he had in nearly a week. And he had felt something short circuit on just three of those words: people you love.

Genos had started calculating as fast as his system could. There were immediate and very human, physical ways that he wanted to react to this scenario. He wanted to ask questions. He wanted to tell the hero just how amazing and wonderful and beautiful he was, no matter what was on his head. All probabilities led to Saitama freaking out.

So he chose the least problematic (he hoped).

He reached forward and rested his hands against the sides of his teacher’s face. He was only just touching the hairline, and he was looking those intense eyes. How had he not realized that they went from a deep chocolate brown to just a slightly burnt tan towards the center? He leaned forward, kissing his forehead, lingering for just an extra moment. Aside from the strange smell of the chemicals, he could make out the soap he had used in the shower: pomegranate. A complex fruit that was delicious but hard to dismantle.

When he pulled back, Saitama was staring at him, but not in a tense way. He was chewing the inside of his lip. Before he could say anything, Genos said, “If it stays, I will rebraid it before every battle or patrol. If it falls out, I will sweep it away and forget it. But no matter which of those occurs, you will always be my teacher, Sensei. Whether it stays or goes is no reflection of me. I will always be here.”

Saitama hadn’t blinked. He hadn’t moved. He reached forward, touching Genos’ cheek again, like he had moments ago with his eyes closed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he finally said as he guided the cyborg back to him. The kiss was grateful, it was relief, it was contentment, and Genos knew the crisis was over. For now.

My Jimin feels have been everywhere recently so here’s a post of my favorite pictures of him. I hope this helps those who are stuck in the Jimin lane and those who just have him as a bias wrecker I’d like to apologize 

I would very much like to say @god thanks because this gem of a picture is what keeps me in this lane 

Wait okay NEVERMIND who in the hell allowed this child to look like this 

From his slightly chubby cheeks to his hair I just cannot 

I randomly stumbled across this one day and I literally think this is one of the reasons I have breathing problems 

Literally everything about this speaks to me as “I will be the best boyfriend ever and buy you treats as long as you understand that you’re mine……… EVERY part of you is mine”

This is that photo you see where you begin to think that youre cheating on your bias. I guess if he is your bias then sorry for the pain but  LoOK AT THaT DaMn JAwLinE?!?!?!?!?!

I dont know why its one of my favorites but it is and i appreciate it 


there are no words for this 

When was this taken? why does he look so like musclely? why hasnt he punched in the face yet? 

*cannonballs into an active volcano with butterfly playing in the background*

I dont think you fully understand just how much I want to wake up to that every morning with his messy hair and deep af voice. Everyday would be okay if it started with that 


hes so…………..*cries* 

I cant be the only one who thinks jimin in white t shirts ohhhh especially long sleeves is the reason for my tears 


last but not least this precious fetus picture of him just @god thanks 

Okay there are obviously wayyyyyy more and this was so hard to make but if i didnt stop here you would see every picture of him i have and thats a lot. also every picture of jimin is great in some way just saying 

p.s i realized literally like all of these are selfies and i have no idea why