Me, dumping ice water on Saitama: Up! Up! Up!
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@softtama
Me, dumping ice water on Saitama: Up! Up! Up!
Flirting doesn't always have to be smooth. The best kind is the gooey cheesy kind that is so terrible that it makes your heart melt.
deathtama reblogged your post “softtama : D”
Before they lean in, the witch murmurs “ This’s grey face bullshit, I’m sorry ta do this wit’out askin ya firs.”
They then lean forward and press their lips to the hero’s, his lips are warm and soft in a way they hadn’t expected them to be, and this close….he smells good. Was that a creepy thought to have? Probably. But he does, he smells like soap and …something earthy. Pulling back, they look up at him.
“If ya feel like yellin or punchin me or somethin I get it. Jus don’ oblit’rate me, I ain’t feelin like dyin taday.”
Saitama is surprised at first, his eyes opening wide before falling closed. It might be cheesy or cliche, but he can feel butterflies in his stomach, and a familiar warmth in his chest.
And as they look up at him, ask him not to obliterate them, he reaches up to their face, curling his fingers loosely into his palm. Then, gentle as he can, he touches two of his knuckles to their nose. Smiling, he moves his hand to their shoulder, then their back, the other resting lightly at their waist. “It was nice.” And with that, he takes a half step closer, wrapping them up in a warm hug.
He loves hugging Soul. They always smell at least a little like tea and sweets, sometimes like herbs and incense. And they always feel so good in his arms. Grinning against their shoulder, I guess I owe that grey face a thank you.
softtama : D
@softtama
The witch wonders why they hadn’t just tried killing the anon and their ridiculous dare as they approach their friend and reach up to tap him on the shoulder.
“Ay, turn round ta me an’ lean over a bit would ya?”
“Hm?” Saitama does as he’s told, turning and bending over a little. “What’s up?”
Then, quieter, “Is there something on my face?”
cyberneticimpulse
“My backpack?” Genos brought it down and started opening it. “Right, I suppose since we are now living together, it will help you to know about my personal possessions…”
For 45 minutes, Genos began to unpack, meticulously describing each item– from his various spare arms, to his clothing, repair kits, and special brush for his synthetic hair.
“…Other than these items, I don’t need to carry very many things,” he explained to Saitama, removing a telescope from his bag.
For forty-five minutes, Saitama listens, almost wishing he hadn’t asked. He had asked, though, and he’d known how...verbose Genos is when he’d done it. So, this is kind of my own fault. By the time his disciple has gotten to the telescope, Saitama has eaten all of his ice cream and is left chewing on the wooden popsicle stick.
“Alright,” he says, frowning at the stick and dropping it on top of the napkin on the table. But, he decides, he doesn’t want to just make a mess, especially considering Genos would probably jump at the chance to clean up after him. (Weird.) So he stands and gathers up his trash, stepping carefully over Genos’s scattered possessions and into the kitchen where he throws it away. Looking out through the kitchen window, he asks, “Have you had dinner yet?” He’d eaten since they’d parted at the bridge, but it seems like Genos had spent that time packing.
He turns to the fridge before Genos can answer and peers inside. I’ll have to get some more groceries, he thinks, eyes scanning the mostly empty space. “I could make you...something.”
There’s eggs, peppers, some onions that probably only have another day or two left...maybe an omelet? Or fried rice?
softtama reblogged your post and added: “softtama reblogged your post and added: “softtama reblogged your post…”
Shaking his head, “No, but it’s fine. I don’t…
@softtama
The witch can feel the movement through the bed of him moving slowly closer to them. Like he’s approaching a dangerous or frightened animal.,They want so badly to move closer to him too. To feel….safer, but they tell themself that’s a sign of weakness, and fear. The exact opposite of what they want him to see, what they want anyone to see really. it definitely wouldn’t convince him that they were alright as they’d said. So they stay put and just let him move closer without lashing out or flinching in anticipation of pain. Trying to clear their mind with each deep breath. Telling themself that he wouldn’t hurt hem, not on purpose. He’s here because the dolls called him over to help. He isn’t those sleazy bastards who put them through that training.
Loosening the grip on their arms, the Witch turns to look at him. They see what they expect to, worry, hesitance and…a bit of sadness. ….unexpectedly, there’s some fear too. What could be scaring him? “Quit lookin s’damn sad.” they say “I ain’t gonna die. I was jus a dream. …and back ta ya not lockin up. Yer in ya pyjamas. Ain’t ya cold?”
Saitama can’t help but smile at that. And, shrugging, “A little. But it’s okay.” A glance up at the dolls. “I think I’ll be alright with some tea.” If he’s honest with himself, he’d like to get under the blankets with Soul and warm up. It’s probably below freezing outside and he hadn’t even thought to put on shoes when he’d left. He’d been too worried about his friend--too focused on making sure they were okay. And he isn’t all that concerned about the chill on his cheeks, fingertips, and feet. He’s just glad to see Soul starting to cheer up.
It occurs to him that he’s in their bed with dirty feet, and he does feel bad about that. But there’s not much he can do about it now, is there? And it isn’t like he’d been stomping around in mud puddles. He’d been leaping from building to building and had probably only made about ten footfalls before he reached their roof. So, not too bad. He leans back against the headboard and tilts his head toward them. “I was planning on visiting today anyway,” he says. “Not in the middle of the night, but ah--” Chuckling, “I was going to make you a cake. I found the mix on sale and--” He isn’t sure how to finish that sentence. Another shrug. “I thought of you when I saw it.”
Like for a starter!
cyberneticimpulse
Containing his relief and overall happiness that sensei has allowed him to stay after all, Genos nods briefly before setting down his comically oversized bag with a soft thud.
Then noticing the melting of the sweet he’s eating, Genos quickly grabs a napkin for Saitama from the kitchen, handing it to him before kneeling down.
“I promise to be as quiet as possible, and complete all household hold duties, Saitama-sensei.”
He’s quiet as he reaches for the napkin. He’s still not fully convinced he made the right decision. How wide is this room? He passes the ice cream to his other hand, wiping what had melted off his fingers. And as he takes a bite, he looks around the room. Probably not even fifteen feet. But his eyes return to Genos as he swallows and he says, “Ah, okay.”
He doesn’t really know where to go from here. He has a roommate. I have a roommate. Genos. Genos is my roommate. … Weird.
Another bite and his eyes roam from his roommate (Weird.) to the enormous bag on the floor behind him. Nodding toward it, “What do you have in there?” Clothes and shoes, presumably. Toiletries. Maybe a repair kit? But how much space would that take up? What else is in there? Is it rude to ask? Is it really his business? They’re…roommates, now, but… But it’s relevant, right? It’ll be in my house.
Mind back on the repair kit, he imagines walking in and finding Genos, only half assembled and spread across his living room, digging into his leg with a screwdriver. Again, Weird. Not bad, necessarily. He’s walked in to much worse from people he’s lived with. Leg maintenance seems pretty tame in comparison. And Saitama gets the feeling that if he did have a problem with something Genos does, he’d probably only have to mention it once. Which is also weird. He’s never met someone so eager to be around him.
i dont know what my aesthetic is but im pretty sure it’s exactly this tweet
New Year Starters
"Will you kiss me at midnight?"
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
"Got any champagne?"
"I'm got doing the ball drop this year."
"I'd rather be home than freezing outside."
"I really don't get the big deal."
"Here's hoping the new year is better than the last."
"New year, new me."
"Let's go out to celebrate."
"Want to go to a party?"
"This is the perfect way to ring in the new year."
"To health, happiness and good days."
"I don't drink, but thank you anyway."
"I don't feel well..."
"Did you just kiss me?"
"I don't care if it IS tradition, I'm not eating that."
"It really is nice out tonight."
"The stars are prettier than the fireworks."
"We don't have to go to a big party place. Maybe a restaurant?"
"Let's ring in the new year right."
"Are you drunk?"
"Can we go home?"
"Just you, me and a couple of silly hats. What do you say?"
"Hold my hand."
"I just want to go to bed early tonight. Does that make me old?"
"I think I drank too much."
"Let's get a cab."
"I'm not wearing those."
"You look silly."
"Does anyone know the words to Auld Lang Syne?"
m, sitting behind me while we watch opm: every time u call someone a good good boy u have to take a shot.
me: ok but i want to live through the episode...
cyberneticimpulse
Dejection automatically washes over the cyborg’s face. He expected such an answer, but hoped to be pleasantly surprised.
As that doesn’t happen, he instead resorts to his persuasion-technique.
Throughout his time with Saitama-sensei thus far, Genos has taken note that his frugality isn’t simply a sense of fiscal responsibility, but a necessity. Noticing this, Genos has absolutely no qualms with helping Saitama financially– no matter what, but he realised that money is a powerful tool, and perhaps Saitama doesn’t need to know that Genos would be more than willing to offer the sum of money in his pocket for no exchange whatsoever.
Said money is plopped upon the short table, a large wad, clearly an overcompensation for a few month’s rent, but undeniably solid proof that Genos means business.
“I will pay rent.”
His eyes are hopeful as his fingers gently curl around the straps of his backpack.
As the stack of bills lands on the table with a solid thump, Saitama’s eyes go wide. What? And they roam from the cash, to Genos, and back again.
What?
His first thought is of the spacious apartments in the more populated areas of the city. Places with multiple rooms, maybe a kitchen wide enough to stretch his arms in. If Genos has this kind of money, why isn’t he in one of them?
Looking back up at his disciple, Saitama can’t help but notice the look on his face. You really want to stay here? Ignoring another drip of ice cream on his fingers, With me? It doesn’t make sense. Of course, most of the stuff Genos does doesn’t make a lot of sense. Saitama knows his power is enormous, but he’s already told Genos everything he knows about where it came from. What else is there to learn? And why does he think living together will help him learn whatever it is faster?
He imagines having a roommate. Only, no; that doesn’t work. Because most roommates--most people aren’t like Genos. He’s had people ask about his strength before, of course, but none have asked to be his disciple. None have asked for training. And none stuck around after he told them about his regimen. He’s not the kind of guy most people want as a friend, or even a long-term acquaintance. So what would it be like, having Genos as a roommate?
“Ah, alright.” Smiling a little and hoping he made the right choice, “Did you bring a toothbrush?”
softtama, for all your (semi-)canon saitama needs.
softtama reblogged your post and added: “softtama reblogged your post “does solar ever have nightmares?? :0 can…”
Saitama doesn’t resist, moving easily under their…
@softtama
Solar wants to pull themself together so they can sound more convincing. Have the other go back home with an apology for the dolls bringing him over for what’d they would convince him was nothing important. But Goddess help them, they’re too tired. Too tired to do anything but nod once and sit there because they’re afraid if they lie back down they’ll dream again, and they’ll have to handle more. Likely something even worse, their mind wasn’t kind enough to give them something they’d be prepared for. It never has been.
This was their fault for not checking the charms and lighting the purifying incense anyway. Glancing at the jangling dream charms on the wall….their gems are dark.Meaning they’re full of as much negative energy as the things can hold….which is surprising. It hadn’t been that long since their last cleaning, which meant the nightmares had really been coming for the witch…and that they hadn’t been paying enough attention to their charms not to notice until now. Maybe someone was trying to curse them. Again.
Sighing again, but more quietly this time as their breath is more even, they turn to look at their friend. Realising they’d been quiet for too long, they don’t get to say a word before the dolls are agreeing for them, telling the two to relax. Pulling out board games and going to make sweets and tea. The noise is harsh on their ears at first, making them jumpier than before. They half expect this to be an illusion, for them to have failed some sort of test… but they’re going to try and keep telling themselves that it isn’t. It’s too elaborate anyway, and even…those people…weren’t strong enough to keep something like this up for this long. The offered comfort is welcome, however. Though the witch mutters complaints about stubborn dolls. Slowly readjusting themself to lean against the headboard, Solar looks at their friend and questions “Didja even lock up ‘fore ya came runnin over ‘ere?”
Shaking his head, “No, but it’s fine. I don’t think anyone will try to break in.” Now would be a weird time to do it, right? Don’t most home invasions happen during the day, when people are at work? And anyway, he’s the only tenant in an otherwise empty building, nestled in a mostly deserted city. Hardly the place for an opportunistic burglar.
He turns on the mattress to sit beside them, careful to leave a couple of inches between his knee and their leg. As much as he wants to wrap an arm across their shoulders or curl his hand around theirs, he worries it could make things worse. Better to just be close and let Soul come to him when they’re ready. It’s strange; the space between them feels so wide, even though it’s narrower than the width of his palm.
He can’t help but wonder what they were dreaming about, though. What could scare Soul so much? They portray fearlessness so well. It’s...frightening, seeing them so frightened.
Looking back at his hands in his lap, It’s none of my business. But that doesn’t seem quite right. They’re friends. And friends can confide in each other, right? Still, he doesn’t want to ask too much of them; especially right now, while they’re adjusting to being awake. He can ask later, when they’re a little more comfortable. Even then, he doesn’t know if they’ll tell him. Soul keeps so many secrets... It usually doesn’t bother him, but now it feels like he’s stuck behind a wall of ignorance, unsure of what he should or shouldn’t do. What will and won’t help.
Looking back at them, he offers a small smile. “Ah, it’s not like I have too much to steal, anyway.” It’s supposed to be funny. He knows how tiny and shabby his home is. But he’s hit rock bottom before--alone, with nothing but a small bag of clothes and a handful of coins to his name. Even if his place is empty when he gets back to it, he won’t regret coming to see Soul. Their safety--their happiness is more important than anything in his apartment.
@softtama
A large hiking bag took up the frame of Saitama’s door, casting a shadow over said sensei.
Holding the backpack was Genos, hopeful and willing to do anything to get his teacher to accept his (admittedly grand) request.
After all, the little apartment seemed cramped just for one person. Two would be pushing it, but he needed to focus on getting stronger every moment of every day. Any minute he spent travelling to and from lessons with Saitama was a waste.
“Saitama-sensei, let me move in with you.”
Saitama blinks once, then twice. He’d known Genos was weird–maybe a little intense–but, he has some common sense, right? A disciple is one thing (he still isn’t sure why he’d agreed to that), but a roommate? In this shoebox?
He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the cold ice cream melting onto his fingers. Frowning at it, then at Genos, “No.”
He doesn’t know where Genos’s home is, but he has one, doesn’t he? Why does he need to stay here? And how did he even get that massive backpack through the door? It looks big and solid enough to tear chunks out of the doorframe and walls. Saitama has no idea how that much extra stuff, and this other extra person would fit in the already tiny space.