#- but did i want my skin bleached as a kid and still think about it sometimes
Note
Can you write a fic about Reader and Tim celebrating their’s child’s birthday.
Have a nice day ❤️❤️
thank you so much for your request!! have a nice day as well <3
birthday boy ༊*·˚
༘♡ sometimes instead of lines, she'd draw stars, stars, stars...
in which you, timothée and your daughter wake up your son for his birthday
« Wake up! Come on! Wake up! »
You gasped your eyes immediately opening wide at the feeling of an object hitting the back of your head. A painful grunt escaped your lips, your fingers fumbling around the pillow only to find a purple stuffed dragon.
« Mom! », you heard your daughter’s loud groan as she shut the door behind her. You smiled at the sound of her little high-pitched angry voice. The room filled immediately with the energy of your six-year-old child, Zoe.
« Good morning, sweety, come here, » you motioned with your hand. She walked towards you and stood beside your bed, her lips pressed shut and her arms wrapped around her waist, amber eyes glaring at you.
« Good morning, » she said with a frown. The light slipped through the window and landed on top of her hair making it look golden like bleached buttercups. « Why are you still sleeping? Don’t you know what day it is? »
« Of course, we do, baby, » you turned around balancing on your elbows.
« Then why are you still sleeping? », she whined.
« We were just waking up, » you leaned to kiss her forehead while pulling behind her ears pieces of unruly hair. She still had her baby smell; warm summer skin, clean cotton, sugared milk. Her freshly washed hair made your whole room radiate chamomile, honey, and olives. She had definitely woken up in a mood but how could you be mad at her adorable face, her pouted lips, and her small nose that had Timothée’s little bump on it?
« But you are not waking up, » Zoe continued. « Daddy’s still sleeping! » You rubbed your eyes and covered your mouth to yawn before bringing forward her little stuffed animal.
« Why did you throw me on mom’s head, Zoe? », you changed your voice pretending it was the animal speaking. It was a game you had developed since she was a little kid and for some reason, it always made her happy.
« It’s Marc’s birthday and they’re still in bed, Spike, » she replied. You clenched your jaw to hold your laughter. She was so cute and precious for this world. You just wanted to take her into a long hug, and never let her go.
« I think that if you give mommy a kiss and a hug she will fully wake up, » you added, a small smile growing on your face. Zoe stood on her tippy toes, pecked your lips, and gave you a quick hug. « That wasn’t a hug. »
« Oh! », she groaned in annoyance and then fell on you hugging you tightly with her small arms. You grinned and kissed her forehead again multiple times.
« Did Marc wake up? », you asked rubbing her cheek, her fingers hugging your wrist as she nuzzled her head in your palm.
« The birthday boy is still sleeping, » she mumbled. « No one is excited for today but me! » You laughed as your little girl tried to climb on top of the bed. « Dad, wake up! »
« Dad’s tired, baby, » you smiled at her warmly. « Let him sleep a few more minutes and then we'll go prepare the cake together, ‘kay? »
« No! », she cried and pulled the bed sheets to climb on top of the bed but failed miserably at her every attempt.
You gave her a hand to help her up. She struggled to move with her small feet getting tangled between the sheets until she finally stumbled and fell on the place between you and Timothée.
« Are you good baby? Did you hurt? », you rushed to ask her. She mumbled something but nodded.
« Dad, daddy! Wake up! », she sat on her knees shaking his shoulder. « Dad! » You fell back on your pillow and closed your eyes for a moment. It was Timothée’s turn. « No, mom, don’t fall asleep too! », she turned to you pulling your arm this time.
« I’m not sleeping, baby, » you chuckled at her. « Just resting my eyes for a second. »
« You always say that but then you end up sleeping, » Zoe furrowed her brows.
« Come here, » you opened your arms. « Let’s just rest our eyes for a few more minutes and then we’ll wake up daddy. »
« No! He has to wake up! », she cried and quickly climbed on top of Timothée’s chest. Tim’s first reaction before even opening his eyes was to smile. « Dad, » she softly touched his cheeks and leaned closer until their noses touched. « Get up! », she groaned lightly slapping his face a few times and then tried to pull his ear.
« Ah! », Timothée gasped, a painful expression painted on his face followed by a laugh. Zoe chuckled at the reaction she got until Tim started to tickle her belly making her collapse on top of him and burst into laughter.
« You tried to pull my ear? », he asked.
« No, no, » she said with difficulty between her giggles.
He then pulled her down, squeezing her into a tight hug, causing the girl to leave a small scream against his skin.
« Mom, help me! », she tented her hand to you with a grin. Timothée decided to let her free and turned his head to the side to face you. His face was pale, lips red and swollen, and the sleep was still hanging from his puffy eyes. You smiled at each other hearing your little girl’s giggles turning into uncontrollable laughter.
« Good morning, » Timothée whispered to her burring his head between fluffy curls and pressing his lips on her cheek.
« Morning, » she mumbled. Timothée held her hands as she sat on his stomach.
« Baby, why are you up so early? », he asked then.
« It's Marc’s birthday! You forgot? »
« Who’s birthday? », Tim furrowed his brows.
« Dad! », Zoe cried. He laughed at her and then ruffled her hair.
« I’m just messing with you, my heart. »
« We don’t have time for jokes! », she widened her eyes and exchanged a look between you and Timothée.
« Careful, baby, » Timothée said giving her a hand as she jumped off the bed.
« Mom! Get up! Come on! », she shouted while running out of the room.
« Hey, careful with the running! », you shouted worriedly. Timothée chuckled as he nuzzled closer slipping his hand to your shoulder to get you into his arms.
« Careful with the running? », he left another small laugh. « What's next? Careful with the walking? »
« You want me to remind you what happened the last time she was running around the house? », you raised your eyebrows.
« You just exaggerate. You always do, » he pressed his lips at the edge of your mouth. « The floor was just wet and she slipped. » You lightly shook your head but Timothée smiled at your reaction.
He held your gaze for a few moments before leaning his head to kiss you hard, his body slowly sliding on top of yours. You pushed him away making him fall to the side and release a heavy breath.
« Not now, » you laughed. « The kids are home. »
« Why do you have to be so dirty-minded? It was just a kiss, » he coked an eyebrow and pushed you playfully.
« Ah! », you gasped holding your shoulder. He beamed his eyes turning back to you.
« I love you so much. »
« Love you too, » you tilted your head to kiss his shoulder, your fingers kindly scratching his skin. He pulled back his hair and then rubbed his face with his palms as you kept staring at him, noticing the huge grin drawn on his face, caused by the thoughts he was having.
« I can’t believe it. Our little boy is nine. Nine! » You laughed, your fingers moving upper to pull his fallen curls behind his ear. His eyes moved at you.
« It’s crazy, » you bit your lips holding your smile. You shook your head lightly. « I still remember when they were tiny little babies and now... » Tim breathed out and then chuckled.
« Fuck they grow up so fast. » A smile grew on your lips as you gave him a last peck and stood up to move to the bathroom. « And before we know it they'll be off to college, » you heard Timothée’s voice.
« Don’t even want to think about it, » you murmured to yourself, cleaning your face and then brushing your teeth. Tim put on his shorts and followed you, balancing at the door with his bare shoulder, looking through his phone.
« My mom texted what time we’ll be there, » he said and then laughed. « She said that your mother has been up since five and she already started cooking. » You chuckled at his words. « I love your mom so much. She’s always so excited about our visits. »
« That’s because she loves the kids, » you said. « And you. » Tim moved closer wrapping his arms around you, his lips planting kisses from your neck, to your chin and your jaw, to your cheeks, your nose, your lips.
« I was thinking… », he said with a small smirk.
« Oh, » you muttered.
« Stop, » he bit your skin making you chuckle again. « I was thinking that maybe we could... you know, » he clenched his jaw, fingers slowly slipping between your hand. « Maybe we could have another baby. » Your lips separated not really sure how to respond. You didn't expect that. Your head turned back to look at his face balancing on top of your shoulder and locked eyes for a moment. He gulped and lowered his gaze to the sink. « No pressure, of course. I’m just throwing it on the table. I mean, I wouldn’t mind having another little creature running around the house when the floor is not wet. » You smiled warmly. « It’s really not a big deal, I just think we can do it - if you want it, of course. »
« Well, I really didn't expect that, » you left a laugh. « I need some time to think about it. »
« Sure, » he pecked your lips again and moved to the sink.
You waited for Timothée for a few moments before moving together to the kitchen. He pulled you back by your t-shirt causing you to laugh. His head leaned down pressing your cheek with his lips making you giggle.
You silently opened the door of your son’s bedroom and looked inside. There he was, a nine-year-old boy sleeping on a sunkissed bed. You couldn’t stop staring at him. He was a baby only a few years ago and now he was speaking, walking, going to school, playing basketball, and having friends.
« Our baby is nine, » Tim whispered to your ear. He pouted his lips. « I am so proud that we got ‘em. » You stayed silent staring at his figure spread across the bed, short curls of dark hair covering his face as small snores escaped his mouth. You got Timothée's hand on yours, intertwining your fingers, and pulled it up rubbing it lovingly. Your eyes moved up at him looking at the way he was gazing at your kid.
Timothée touched your back gesturing for you to follow him. In the kitchen, Zoe had already found her seat at the end of the counter, her color pencils spread around her, as she finished her painting.
« You are finishing your drawing, baby? », you asked as Tim got the video camera to see if it was charged.
« Mhm, » she nodded too absorbed. You leaned on your elbows next to her. « You like it, mommy? », she asked.
« Like it? I love it! Tell me more about your artwork, » you said truthfully.
« Girls, camera's on, » Timothée's voice was heard in the background and you motioned with your head for him to come and see Zoe's drawing.
« It’s me and Marc sitting at the beach, » she explained. You nodded eagerly and then pointed at the sky.
« Why is the sky purple? », you asked.
« It’s the sunset. »
« And that red circle it’s the sun? », you asked.
« Yes! », she grinned and hugged you tight. You messed her hair and then moved to the fridge to get out the cake and the frosting. Tim moved closer with the video camera in his hands.
« Can you tell us your name? », he sat in front of your girl.
« Em… my name is Zoe, » she mumbled her whole face heating up as she kept coloring the paper not making eye contact.
« Is it a special day today? », Tim asked.
« Yes! It's Marc’s birthday, » she smiled. « I’m finishing his drawing. That’s my gift for him. »
« Can you show the drawing to the camera? »
« Do you like it? », Zoe turned the drawing in Timothée’s direction.
« Wow! », he said making Zoe grin. « It's incredible, baby. We should frame it, » Timothée left the camera down.
« You think Marc’s going to like it? »
« Marc’s going to love it! », he kissed the top of her head wrapping his arms around her. « I noticed you put a lot of green. »
« That's because green is his favorite color. »
The conversation went on for quite a while, Zoe explaining to Timothée her artistic choices and him happily listening to everything she had to say and being a silly dad as always, while you were preparing the birthday cake writing ‘Happy Birthday Marc’ on top of it. Even though you were trying to be extremely concentrated not to ruin the cake you couldn’t help but laugh when you heard Zoe telling Tim that she didn’t want to be an artist, she wanted to be a swimmer or a « veterinariterian ».
Tim gave you a funny look of confusion to make sure you heard before turning back to your daughter. You raised your head to look at them.
« You mean veterinarian, baby? », he asked. She half-opened her mouth processing the word and then nodded.
« Ve-te-ri-na-te- »
« Veterinarian, » Tim repeated slower. « Come on you can do this. »
« Ve-te-ri-na-ri-an, » she tried to say it back.
« Yes, that’s it! »
« Veterinarian, » she nodded.
« You are doing so great, sweety, » you said. Timothée kissed her cheek and moved closer to you getting the dishes out of the way to the sink to wash them.
« I’m almost done here, » you let him know.
« Mom, can I eat the frosting? », Zoe asked.
« Baby, I don't think that’s a very healthy breakfast, » Tim replied instead of you.
« Dad, please, » she begged. « Mommy? »
« Dad’s right, Zo. »
« Please, please, please, please, » she begged you her hands tied together. « Just a spoon, please mommy. » You looked at Tim once but then gestured to her with your hand.
« Come on, get a spoon, » you smiled.
« Y/N, they are going to eat so much cake today that they’ll be sick tomorrow. »
« It’s just a spoon Timo, » you pulled his hair back, on your way to get your spoons.
« It’s a special day, dad, » Zoe murmured happily.
« Okay then, I want some frosting too, » he mumbled taking the spoon off your hands.
« You shouldn’t eat because you’re going to eat so much cake today- », you started saying before he squeezed your waist making you jump away and leave a laugh.
« Come on finish your sentence, » he laughed before squeezing you again.
« You need to stop this, » you widened your eyes a smile plastered on your lips as you held your arms forward to defend yourself. Zoe couldn’t stop laughing watching Timmy tying tightly his arms around you and pressing kisses on your lips.
There was this routine you followed on your children's birthday. You were waking up early, finishing the cake you had already spent hours preparing the previous night, and then waking up the kids with the song.
« Can I put the candles? », Zoe asked.
« Sure, baby, » you said looking at the way she carefully placed nine candles on top of it in a circle.
« I’m getting the lighter. I’m getting the lighter, » Tim repeated excitedly as you took the cake in your hands and moved to the door of your son’s bedroom with Zoe’s small feet following you, drawing in her hands and a grin that reached her ears. « Okay, » Timothée said out of breath.
After lighting the candles he slowly opened the door. Your boy was still on his bed sleeping. Timothée mouthed ‘one, two, three’ and then you all started singing to him in unison. You noticed how his hazel green eyes opened wide raising him from his sleep and then a small grin appeared at the edge of his mouth.
« Happy Birthday to You // Happy Birthday to You // Happy Birthday Dear Marc //Happy Birthday to You… », you sang all together. He quickly stood up on his feet and blew off the candles.
« Happy birthday, » Zoe left a small childish scream as she fell into his arms pushing both of them back to the bed. They hugged each other tightly and kissed the other’s cheeks.
Timothée crouched in front of him to reach his height holding his knees with a huge smile. He gently pushed the hair behind his ears, one hand resting on his cheek.
« Okay, » the words came out like a whisper. « You are one of the best things that ever happened to me and I am so grateful for having you, » he pressed his lips on his cheek and took him in a long hug. « I want you to know that I love you and I am so proud of the person you are becoming. »
« You are proud? », Marc held his wrist to look him in the eyes. Timothée chucked and leaned down until their foreheads touched.
« Of course I am, and you should be too. Happy birthday, Mars, » he ruffled his hair standing up.
« Ah, dad! », the boy gasped only for Tim to ruffle his hair again and press a kiss on the top of his head.
« I’ll take this, » Timothée kissed you on the lips and took the cake off your hands. « Baby, you’ll come and help? », he asked Zoe who rushed to follow.
You pulled out your lower lip looking at your son who lightly shook his head knowing what was going to follow.
« Happy birthday, » you took him into a hug, arms tightly wrapped around him as you pressed your sealed lips not to get emotional. « Can’t believe you are nine. Nine! Oh my God! »
« Come on, mom, » he patted your back. You smiled and pulled away letting him breathe.
« I love you so so much. »
« I know, you tell me every day, » Marc mumbled.
« Yes, and I will never stop saying that to you because no matter how old you grow, you will always be my sweet little boy whom I used to be so protective of and always will be in the future. »
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⠀ ⠀ ༝ i hate you for what you did, and i miss you like a little kid.
⠀ 一虎 // MOTION SICKNESS
⠀ ༝ ༝ kazutora hanemiya
⠀ ༝ ༝ 2.3k words
⠀ ⚠︎ angst + valhalla spoilers + IM SORRY !
⠀ — he’s taller, now, hair bleached, but it’s still those same wide eyes that meet your own.
january 16, 2000
baji and kazutora were constants in your life.
being neighbors with baji left you trailing behind him like a puppy, and the idea of having someone as kind as you by his side made him happy - so despite his complaints and the bickering that always ensued between the two of you, he decided to keep you tucked away like a secret.
and when he introduces you to kazutora, it’s another warm friendship melting easily with the first.
and the three of you form an unbreakable bond, with the promise to always help each other when in need. kazutora would spend more time in your house than his own, and your parents take him in easily. it’s a taste of love he’s never felt, and when he lays on your bedroom floor next to a sleeping baji, he finds it hard to fall asleep with that feeling swelling deep in his chest and taking root under his heart.
august 22, 2003
it’s baji who comes to your door late one night. who else, when his other half is in juvie as he tells you.
you break into a sob at the news, and it’s baji who holds you with apologies falling off of his lips as if somehow he’s to blame for it all.
he holds you until you wear yourself out, and stays with you when you beg him to through tears. another promise it made there, to never leave one another behind, and it’s a promise you intend to hold kazutora to once he’s released.
baji rubs your back until you’re asleep, and he wonders if there was something he could’ve done to avoid this heartache; from seeing his friend carted away in handcuffs, from seeing you cry. he wishes he could go back, just for a moment, to change this outcome.
september 12, 2004
you wrote to kazutora when you could, but never received any replies. baji caught you once in the middle of you preparing a life update, snatching the paper from your desk and holding it above your head when you reached for it.
“give it back, baji!”
he stands on his toes to keep it out of your grasp, and chifuyu grumbles from your floor something about that not being the study sheet we’re working on.
“what’s this, a love letter?” he snorts, squinting to read the letters, “‘happy birthday kazu! baji and i miss you lots, even if he won’t say it outloud-’.”
you stomp on his foot and snatch the letter away when he slouches in pain, glaring at him, “you’re such a dick sometimes.”
“he never writes you back, i don’t know why you keep sending those.” baji huffed out, sitting on the floor beside chifuyu, “he probably doesn’t even get them.”
“what does it matter,” you roll your eyes, placing the paper in a folder and leaving it on your desk, exchanging it for the aforementioned study sheet, “s’not like it’s anything to do with you anyways.”
“it does,” he argues, despite the glare you send him, “my name is very clearly mentioned.”
“i just don’t want him to think we’ve forgotten about him or don’t care about him.” you say finally, and the way your gaze falls on him leaves him looking away with a small fine, whatever.
the tension that remains bleeds from the air and crawls under your skin, but chifuyu clears his throat and flips through the first few pages of the worksheet with a hum, “what the fuck is hydrolysis?” and that is enough to clear the air.
october 20, 2005
two years pass and not a single letter is returned.
some days you wonder if you should call the center, ask if maybe there was something wrong with what you’re putting in them as if that could be the reason he isn’t getting them, but the fear of knowing that not being the reason he won’t reply frightens you beyond belief. you want to ask the post office if there’s any way all one-hundred and six letters could have been lost in the mail or sent to the wrong place, but you’re all-too aware of the return address being labeled as your home.
instead, you settle with the unknown. there’s no getting hurt that way, no way of truly finding out if he was ignoring you for all of two years.
it’s not until you bump shoulders with a stranger outside of the market that you get to piece things together. you’d recognize that tiger tattoo from anywhere.
“‘tora?”
the bags you’re holding almost slip from your grasp, scrambling to free a hand to grab at his elbow and turn him around. he’s taller, now, hair bleached, but it’s still those same wide eyes that meet your own. you swallow dryly.
“when- when’d you get out?”
he tilts his head at you, earring chiming from the movement, “last week. thought baji would’ve told you.”
“me too . . .” you’re hurt by the admission, he can tell. you clear your throat, “the letters i sent - did you ever get them?”
“i did.”
the confession is enough to break what little resolve you have, frowning, “unable to reply, or . .?”
“didn’t see the need, “ he hums out, straightening with a smile when he looks behind you. a glance over your shoulder and you see baji, sharp toothed grin faltering when his eyes find you.
“what a nice reunion,” baji settles for when he finds himself standing beside kazutora, patting your head before wrapping an arm around kazutora’s shoulders, “should’ve planned a picnic or somethin’.”
you shove at baji’s shoulder half heartedly, “why didn't you tell me kazu was released, you asshole. and what happened to your knuckles?”
he jerks his hand from your grasp when you grab for it, ignoring the hurt you hold in the furrow of your brow at his reaction.
“huh? must’ve slipped my mind,” he pulls on kazutora’s shoulder, forcing him to turn, “anyways, we gotta go! have plans we just can’t miss.” he gives a wave as he walks away, kazutora in tow.
you come home that night to a message from baji. barely able to finish reading it through your tears, but you’re able to get the basic understanding.
kazutora and i decided we’re on different paths in life, so we’re cutting you out.
the promise to stay together breaks apart by the seams with each tear that falls down your cheeks. kazutora never replied to your letters, didn’t even bother to look for you after he got out, and baji’s being ripped from your grasp. it feels like every piece of yourself you’ve been holding onto for the past two years is being brutally torn away from you with each second that passes, and for the first time in your life, there is no one there to help you hold it all together.
november 3, 2005
you’d been planning his birthday for weeks before the actual date. despite the message he sent to you previously, you’d continued to prepare for something, even if he wouldn’t show up.
except, that’s not the reason he doesn’t come.
it’s chifuyu now, who distributes the bad news to you with a frown, and you want to tear down each decoration you’ve put around your home as if that’d undo the words that have left his lips.
and when you crumble to the floor, it’s chifuyu who comforts you in a way that’s all too familiar, but never the same as before. you’d never feel that comfort again, nor the warmth that'd surround baji like a fire. you have to pry the details out of him, beg for anything he’s willing to give. how did it happen. was it painless. did he suffer. did he cry. who started it.
he answers to the best of his ability through his own tears, explaining kazutora stabbed him first but baji delivered the final blow to himself, and those words leave you folding in on yourself even more.
“kazutora’s in jail now for that, will be for ten years.”
it’s like each new addition to the story is you taking punch after punch, and chifuyu is glad that little bit of information is last on his list - unsure if you can take anymore hits. you’re practically gasping for air by the end of it, and with some effort, chifuyu is forcing you to sit up, forcing you to take a second and just breathe.
he only goes home when the reality of it all has settled, leaving you hollow sitting on your bed. on numb legs, you stand and walk to your desk, ripping out a page from your notebook to hastily write.
i hate you, kazutora. i want you and baji back and i hate you for taking him away from me. i hate you and i miss you and you’re the worst
the words blur together, ink bleeding into blobs as your tears fall onto the paper. you crumble up the page and throw it across the room with a sniff, unable to believe what you’ve written.
july 05, 2015
your brows furrow at the sound of knocking on your door. chifuyu told you he’d be an hour late to your hangout, stuck organizing a shipment that came early he’d told you over the phone, but the sound of knocking again proves he’s a liar.
“you don’t have to knock if i know you’re coming-” you start as you pull the door open, only to stop when it’s not chifuyu behind it.
kazutora stares at you, and it’s still those same wide eyes as he takes you in. there’s no blonde left in his hair, you note dully, and he’s gotten taller. you’re practically frozen in place by his appearance on your doorstep.
“hi.” he breathes out finally, offering a bouquet you hadn’t even realized he was holding, and his lip quivers when you hesitate to take it.
you clear your throat, “when . . . when did you get out?” you look down at the flowers to avoid looking at him and god he could break down right here. the smell of your home comes off in waves, clawing at the deepest parts of him and settling with the reminder of childhood. he wants to bottle it up, breathe it in for the rest of his life to keep those memories forever.
“few days ago. ‘fuyu picked me up.”
you pull your lip between your teeth, a nasty habit he remembers when you were young, before you’re taking a step back so he can enter your home. he does so slowly, as if any sudden movement could startle you away from him. he’s almost certain it would.
“was waiting on him,” you mumble out, finally looking at him, “‘fuyu.” you’re unsure why you clarify, but he nods nonetheless.
“he told me.”
silence fills the air again, neither of you wanting to break what fragility remains on your shoulders, until kazutora moves to dig through the bag he’s brought with him. you eye him warily, still very unsure of what to make of it all, when he pulls out a folder filled with stacks of papers.
he offers it to you, and you take it with less hesitation than before, trading it with him for the bouquet so you can open it properly.
august 30, 2003
dear kazutora,
kazutora watches as your eyes widen while they dance across the paper, immediately beginning to flip through each of the worn pages as if the rest of the stack could be fake, before you meet his gaze.
“are these . . ?”
“i kept them all.” he explains softly, trying so so hard to read your expression.
and when you throw yourself into his arms, almost crushing the flowers between the two of you, he’s stunned.
he holds you when your knees buckle, and carefully eases the two of you to the ground. holds you when your tears stain his shirt, and holds you even tighter as apologies fall from his lips. for baji, for not caring enough, for not righting his wrong when he should’ve. for not writing you back.
as he breathes you in, he realizes how familiar this feels, how familiar you are, and suddenly he’s back to being a stupid thirteen year old with an even stupider adoration for you. he’s scared he’s squeezing you too tight, but you’re holding him like he’s your last lifeline and it takes all of him not to do the same.
“i don't want to be like baji and not tell you how much i missed you.” he whispers, and it has a small laugh leaving your lips. a sound he hasn’t heard in so fucking long, it’s all he want to hear for as long as he’s alive.
“i forgive you,” you say softly, when the tears finally subside and your grip on one another lessens enough for you to be able to lean away and look at him, “forgive you for baji and not caring and not writing me back.”
the remission is enough to have him fighting back his own tears, and when you brush a strand of hair from his face to cup his cheek softly, it breaks what little resolve he has left. then it’s you taking him back into your arms, holding him as gently as you can as the assurances pass your lips as something so sweet and soft and everything he has ever missed in the last twelve years sits cradled in his arms.
there’s something so sickly sweet about it all that has chifuyu wishing he would’ve been a little more precarious while putting everything away at the shop - regrettably ruining the moment when he stumbles into your house with beers and yakisoba.
#kazutora x reader#hanemiya kazutora x reader#kazutora hanemiya x reader#kazutora hanemiya#kazutora#hanemiya kazutora#hanemiya x reader#x reader#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#salmon rowe
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Night descends upon us and yet, as usual, the stars don’t shine brightly the way that they did last summer when our bonfire roared under clear, sparkling skies. I think of that night now as I sit on a patch of cool earth in the dunes above Dollymount Strand surrounded by rusting cans and the sun-bleached wrappers of discontinued chocolate bars.
I remember the balmy air of late July, how I didn't even heed it until now when the night is still too cold to sit out in yet we all pretend it isn't. Anyway, it’s too late to point it out to the crowd that's already gathered here, drinking and playing music from a speaker that crackles every time the bass gets too loud, so I sit as close as I can to the flames without climbing into the pit with them, and let their heat lick over my skin.
I share a few beers with a big, severe looking boy next to me for a while. He's got silver spikes protruding from his lip, and high cheek bones that make his face look kind of gaunt and hollow like a Tim Burtonesque character. We called him Lurch at school, because he’s also about six foot five and rake thin, but tonight I learn that Lurch’s real name is Rob, and actually, Rob is a very nice person.
He talks to me about music for ages, about his drum kit and how the neighbours keep complaining to his parents about the noise. I tell him that I’ve always wished I was musical but I have absolutely no sense of rhythm. I’m kind of a loser like that, despite my dreams of being that guy with the guitar who impresses all the girls, but I have long since accepted that I will settle to be a humble music-recommender instead. Jen still keeps all of the silly mix tape CDs I made for her in primary school in her room, and it gives me an inexplicable sense of worthiness whenever I spot them.
Never once during my conversation with Rob do I tell him about the Lurch thing, though it crosses my mind several times. What seemed so funny once in the confines of my little group seems kind of obviously mean now, but I suppose I never took the time to think about it before.
Katie is nice too, the girl with a stammer who snorts when she laughs, which is often once she joins in our conversation, because she seems to think my stories are very funny, as does Rob, and I have to tell them not to laugh so hard because it only encourages me to put myself in more situations that might be entertaining to retell later on. They think that's funny too, but actually, I am being serious.
Still, I know they’ll love that one about the time I was using the desert as a toilet and a military helicopter flew overhead, convincing me that my great aunt’s busybody neighbour had called the FBI to report me for public urination, so I make sure to tell it in the most energetic way I can. It’s easier and way more fun to reveal embarrassing things about myself when I’m drinking, and by the time I have finished telling it, I toss my empty bottle to my feet where four others already lie. I hadn’t even realised I had drunk that much, but who cares when I feel this good.
“Jesus, you’re so funny,” Katie says once her giggles have subsided, “I can’t believe we all thought you were an arsehole.”
“You thought that?”
“Not really,” Rob assures me, “We just thought you were… like, a bit…”
“...of an arsehole,” I finish, and he’s clearly being polite so he denies it, but he shouldn’t bother, really, because I already know how I am. I'm aware of the things I’ve said and done to other kids for the sake of relieving my crushing, constant boredom, never really thinking about the consequences beyond ‘it will be funny’. Maybe I should say I’m sorry.
“Nah you’re right, I’m kind of a horrible bastard,” and I laugh at myself, which gives them permission to do so too, albeit awkwardly.
“You’re not, you’re not,” Rob assures me, “You definitely weren’t the worst of the guys in our year…”
I want to ask him who is the worst, purely for the satisfaction of hearing him say that it’s Fitzy, or Murphy or Breener or any of those other awful, rugby wanks, but I don’t because someone coming through the grass has derailed my train of thought.
“What’s she doing here?”
I have interrupted Rob and now he’s blinking in surprise as he turns to where Leah, fucking Leah, is approaching us.
“Uh, she comes to talk to Evan sometimes,” he explains, “just for like, a few minutes usually and then she heads off. Do you know her?”
“Yeah.”
I watch with a clenched jaw as she and Evan disappear into the darkness for a few minutes, and pop open a brand new beer bottle as Rob and Katie chat as I sit between them having lost all of my sense of fun in an instant. I’m also drunk, if not very much getting there judging by the slightly blurry flames that dance exotically in front of my eyes. I have a dim thought that it’s probably a good idea to stop drinking if I plan on seeing Jen later. I doubt Michelle’s parents will be too pleased if I show up steaming drunk at their door…
“Oh my God, Jude, I didn’t expect to see you here!” Leah is back and standing right over me. I don’t even bother to look up at her face, and instead just stare at her ratty Vans that I’m almost certain are the same pair she wore when we used to hang out two years ago, and they were ratty back then.
“Yep,” I say. She sits down so closely to me in the sand that I can smell her distinct, Leah smell. She doesn’t smell bad, just like an unpleasant sensory memory.
“How are you?”
I clear my throat, “Are you buying drugs from teenagers now? Is that what it’s come to?”
“Oh, I thought you already knew how Evan and I knew each other.”
“No.”
“Well, mister policeman, it’s just weed,” she pulls the baggie I saw earlier out of her jacket pocket, “We can even smoke some together now if you like.”
“Weed makes me sick.”
“I remember that! Ha!” She offers it to Rob and Katie who both decline and exchange alarmed looks over our heads.
“Are you going to sit here all night?” I ask her, and even to my own ears it’s unbelievable how rude I am to her, but I don’t care, she deserves it, and it’s not like she even seems to register my tone anyway, she’s always been completely oblivious to what people think about her. She’s that person who hangs around at the party for way too long and keeps bringing up conversations that everyone stopped talking about ages ago.
“Jude and I go way back,” Leah explains to Katie beside her, “I met him when he was, what,” a nudge to my arm, “thirteen?”
“Twelve.”
“We used to be friends, back when he was fun.”
I scowl and she drapes herself over my shoulder with an effortless laugh as though she somehow believes this is our usual banter, “I’m joking, he’s still so fun! And cute!” She tries to grab my face and I shake her off insistently so she settles for fisting a hand in the front of my sweatshirt to hold me hostage instead, “Isn’t he, though?” she presses poor, sheepish Katie who explodes in a ferocious blush. “Would you say he’s the cutest boy at school?”
“I- I don’t know,” Katie stutters.
“Well guess what! I got to be the lucky girl who took his virginity!”
I rip her off me but she comes back at me with more grabbing hands and tickling fingers, “Ooh! It’s true, isn’t it? Isn’t it Judie? Oh, isn’t it?”
I wrench her off me with finality and clamber to my feet, my heart beating, my stomach queasy, “Leave me alone, okay?” I bend down to swipe my beer bottle out of the hollow I made for it in the sand and even then she tries to touch my hair. It infuriates me. “I’m serious! Piss off!” I spit.
“Oh God, mister grumpy!” She says as I stagger around the bonfire to get away from her and everything that she represents. I’m definitely drunk now, it's in my sluggish movements, the way my eyes drift unfocussed from person to person, but being drunk is preferable to remembering Leah as vividly as I would if I were perfectly sober.
Right now, it is just snippets of an evening three years ago that play through my mind. The week I turned fourteen, and the hard, frozen November ground by a swing set. The things I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to do but thought knew I should by then, and Leah, and the heat of her skin, the smell of her sweat, the hyper fixation I had on that piece of bark mulch I felt tangled in her hair which somehow became the strongest memory of all, something that I still associate with her when I feel the sharp dig of something in my palm.
When I don't see her I don't think of these things, so I circle the bonfire until she is invisible, obscured by the roaring flames and swallowed by the darkness.
Beginning // Prev // Next
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A Dark And Stormy Night
tw for minor body horror
it's a dark and stormy night.
to be entirely honest, it's cliche. it knows it's cliche, but it's all it can think, looking out the window. raindrops patter against its face and it winces, closing its eyes a little.
the already black sky is completely logged with clouds, lightning illuminating the darkness in spite of stars. it feels something uncomfortable shift in its ribs and grimaces, altering its position in the passenger seat to make up for it.
he glances over at it, looks away again. it doesn't blame him, imagines how it must look now. it notes quietly he doesn't have a rearview mirror or any on either side of the car- that's stupid, and dangerous, but it would also be stupid and dangerous to have them.
he doesn't tell it to roll the window up, but it does after a moment anyways. guilt drags heavy on its bones and skin, and the last thing it wants is to get the inside of his car wet.
it opens its mouth, finds its tongue and teeth aren't in the right positions, and closes it again. if it talks, it'll come out wrong. it doesn't want to make him any more uneasy than it already has.
"you alright over there, kid?" he doesn't take his eyes off the road when he finally breaks the sound of tires on wet asphalt, rain on the metal roof of the vehicle. "I mean, as alright as the circumstances can allow, obviously."
the engine hums in both their bones. bones that click into place. tendons that quietly shift under skin. minds that slowly meld into one. the catalyst was the spark. it's only a matter of time now before it all goes up in a burning inferno of hell.
why did you help me.
it puts a hand over its mouth, but that doesn't stop the sound, if you could even call it that. it isn't... physical, like vibrations from vocal chords. it's something tinged with static, something that curls around the edges of his already-curdling psyche. he winces, and it feels more guilty.
"I don't know," Thatcher admits at length, tapping out an uneasy rhythm on the steering wheel. "you're a kid. you deserve better than that."
it swallows thickly, bleach still burning the nerves behind its eyes. he'd expected it to kill him, but instead it just ate away at all the soft tissue until there was nothing human left but the murky red puddle at its feet. that's why it's an it, not a he.
I'm a monster.
Thatcher lets out a weak chuckle that gives way to a wet-sounding cough. "aren't we all?"
you have no idea how true that is about to be. it hisses and bangs a fist on the center console, startled into speaking out loud. the words are distorted and feel wrong and don't sound like a voice so much as a machine trying to replicate one, but at least they're real. "sh-shit. I didn't mean to-"
"I get it. I get it, it's okay." he doesn't understand what it just said, but he also does, in a way. he can feel it burrowing into the back of his mind, too. he's had MAD for a long time now. "listen. I've been living with that kind of shit for years now. you're not trying to hurt anyone, and as long as you aren't, nothing you say will affect me. alright?"
it nods weakly, feeling sick. half-melted vocal chords strain to get words out. "I'm sorry."
"don't be. it's not your fault."
but it is. I'm the catalyst. everyone is fucked over and it is very much my fault.
Thatcher glares over at it, and it flinches back. he immediately pulls back, mutters an apology of his own. "don't say things like that. if anyone's to blame, it's me. there are at least four people dead because of things I didn't do to protect them. you never asked for any of this, it was all laid out for you before you were even- born, or whatever. but I had it coming."
it closes its eyes again. I want my mommy.
he pauses, processing that. after a minute, he gives up. there's not much to say.
"we'll be back at my place soon. just gotta hold on until then, okay?"
"...okay."
it turns its eyes back outside. it's a dark and stormy night.
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Sanzu x son reader 2
Sanzu tucked little (name) into his Alaskan king bed, the toddler dwarfing considerably on the huge bed as Sanzu just stared at him.
Save for skin tone, he was literally a spitting image of him and the scars... The scars just cemented that.
Punishing a child for looking like their other parent then... Sanzu felt his blood boil as he turned to leave the room and walk to his lavish living area
It was an absolute nightmare.
Drugs and God knows what strewn about the area and he let out a deep sigh.
He is not going to let his fucking kid turn into him.
Not a god damn chance.
Rolling up his sleeves he did something he hadn't done in years.
Cleaned his god damn apartment.
He collected any stray pill or powder and locked it away, bleaching away excess to make sure that his son wasn't exposed to his mistakes.
It was close to two by the time he finished and stretched his back, a satisfying pop could be heard.
Wandering to the guest room it was barren.
Just the bare necessities lay.
A king sized bed and two nightstands and a dresser off to the side.
"better order some shit.."
And that's how he spent the rest of his night, ordering child friendly furniture and clothes.
He was startled out of his ordering when the sound of little cries from down the hall and he barely registered his feet moving as he rushed to the bedroom, heart pounding as he took in the sight.
He was alright.
He wasn't dying.
(name) was shaking and cowering as he hugged his head in fear mumbling a heartbreaking symphony of 'im sorry' and 'dont hit me' and Sanzu wished he kept (mother's name) alive so he could make her feel the pain his son was feeling.
"what happened?" Sanzu mumbled as he walked towards the bed and crouched at eye level with the boy.
"bad boy... 'm a bad boy"
Then the smell of urine hit his nose.
"did you wet the bed?" Sanzu asked carefully, remembering when Senju wet the bed and putting that into practice but this time he's not gonna make fun of the bed wetter.
"I'm sorry!"
"it's alright, don't worry about it" Sanzu surprised himself with how calm and well he was handling this.
If it were anyone else he would have kicked them out or shot them.
But this wasn't anyone else.
This was his kid.
His flesh and blood.
"let's get you cleaned up bud"
He didn't have bubble bath so he decided to use some shampoo for bubbles as he sat the child in the child safe water, tossing the kids clothes in the washer before crouching infront of him "don't got any toys for baths but don't worry, tomorrow we will got you anything you want" Sanzu mumbled as he began to wash the child down with his expensive body wash--- hopefully it was safe for toddler skin.
"even if I made mess on bed?"
"even then"
(name) was quite while his new dad bathed him and dried him, he was nothing like what his mama claimed he was.
A druggie monster who only cared for himself.
He seemed to not be annoyed with (name)s presence but the toddler was still on edge.
People tended to trick him a lot.
"later today we will grab you some stuff or if you want I can have someone get them for us" Sanzu said giving the boy options.
He never got options before.
"c-can we stay home?"
"of course"
Sanzu barely had food in his home, usually eating at Restaurants and the like so he never really had to do such mundane tasks.
"well bud, wanna get some McDonald's?"
After one food order later and the two Akashi's were situated on the couch, little (name) drowning in one of his dad's undershirts and quietly eating some nuggets and fries as Sanzu ate a chicken Tatsuya contently.
"so you my daddy?" (Name) asked softly and glanced up at the other, finding a weird comfort that his new dad had the same scars as him.
Made him feel less lonely.
"yeah, you don't gotta call me that if you don't wanna though"
"am allowed to?"
"only if you wanna"
"ok daddy" (name) mumbled and slowly inches towards the other and Sanzu felt his heart warm a bit, he never thought that was possible.
Hell last week he didn't think it was possible for him to be a dad but here he was.
Eating McDonald's with his pocket edition.
They spend the day together, (name) crying when the flood of stuff for him came in and Sanzu calmed him down and changed the boy up and put a pull up on him before showing the boy his room.
"this mine?"
"yup! All yours, never had a bed that big eh?"
"never had"
"what?"
"never had bed"
His heart dropped at that as he forced a smile "well daddy will make sure you never go without yeah?"
"promise?"
"I promise"
And that's how they spent their day, going through little (name)s new stuff and ending with Sanzu tucking him into his bed that had (cartoon or whatever) sheets before going to his own room, the cleaner already changing and cleaning the bed.
"I won't let anything happen to my boy again" be mumbled quietly to himself as he touched his scars and closing his eyes, he needed sleep for the days and years to come.
And he was actually excited for tomorrow.
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Febuwhump 2024, Day 9: Wind & Chain - Bees
Fandom: LOZ/Linked Universe
Summary: Determined to at least have a sip of alcohol after being told no, Wind sneaks a bottle of honey mead, not knowing that interior of the bottle was coated with raw honey. Wind knew he was allergic to bees, but not their honey... He should have listened.
CW: underaged drinking (a single glass), allergic reaction, closed airway
“Wind, put that down.” Time’s ‘Disapproving Dad’ voice was firm, face showing no give in what the youngest wanted to do.
Wind rolled his eyes dramatically. “Come on! It’s one swig!”
“No.”
Grumbling, Wind sat the pint of ale that he had been eyeing all night. He sat down as if he was a sack of potatoes being dropped into the chair next to Legend. He crossed his arms over his chest, giving the best mean-mug pout he could give.
“Got caught?” Legend snickered.
“What do you think? I’m a pirate, we drink!”
Warriors leveled the kid with a look. “Does Tetra allow you to drink?” Wind lowered his head.
Twilight ruffled the sun bleached curls, asking, “Why do you wanna drink so bad anyway? There isn’t anything overly grand about it and getting drunk can get messy.”
The youngest looked around the room, everyone relaxed and laughing, enjoying the rare chance to do nothing. “I guess… I don’t know. I just want to, to say that I have. To be like you guys!”
Eight heads turned towards him.
“Like us?” Sky asked first. “You think all of us drink or have drank before?”
“Haven’t you?” Wind tilted his head curiously.
Sky softly smiled. “Skyloft has a strict tradition of the first time you drink any alcohol, it is on your wedding day. It is part of the ceremony. The groom holds the cup for the bride to drink from, then the bride holds it for the groom.” He looked a bit too dreamy while talking about it. He was probably imagining his and Sun’s wedding that was going to happen the next time they made it back to Skyloft.
“Drinking is a big thing in my era.” Wars leaned back some in his chair. “You drink when you eat, when you have friends or family over, during formal gatherings and galas. Gets rather bland after a while.”
Wild did his own head tilt, but it was very wolfie like. “I wonder if that’s how it was pre-Calamity. I had a memory of being at a royal event and trying not to laugh at the face Flora made when she would sip the wine.”
“Have you had any since you woke up?” Wind was now interested in the others' thoughts.
“Today was the first time.”
“Aaand?” Wind bounced slightly in his seat. Wild gave the most stoic face, shoving the drink in his hand into Twilight’s chest. That answer was clear.
Taking a large swig of the new pint, Twi gave the same gesture to Wild with his empty pint. “I was raised by Humans, not Hylians, so I have a higher drinking tolerance. Especially since our drinking age is sixteen. What about you, Old Man?”
“Never.” The uproar that followed his answer had Time laughing. “We don’t have true alcohol in my era, but I have been drunk on multiple occasions.”
Still laughing, Wind asks, “On what, then?”
“Milk.”
Silence…
“Cryptic bastard.” Legend mumbled. “Only the nobles can afford anything worth the damn. Besides, I’m not old enough. Unlike Twilight’s early start, our drinking age is twenty-one.”
“So Fable drinks?” Warriors smiled, knowing he was going to get under the Vet's skin. “I’m sure she’s fun to be around after a few drinks.”
“Warriors, stay clear of my sister.” Legend growled.
“Sister? Wait, Fable is your sister?!”
With the new information being loudly discussed, Four and Hyrule made their way to Wind’s side. Four nudged the younger’s arm. “Drinking won’t kill you unless you are being irresponsible with it.”
“That’s anything in life.” Hyrule added, still laughing at Wars and Legend. Both had landed on the ground in a friendly rough housing fight.
Well into the night, Wind couldn’t sleep. He was homesick and nothing he did was helping him to keep his eyes shut. The others were no help with hoe some of them snored so bad they could wake the dead. He counted Seagulls in his head, but that just made him miss home more. Giving up, he quietly grabbed an extra treat Wild left in the room. It was thick caramel covered apple slices with a drizzle of dark chocolate.
With a bit more of a full belly, Wind yawned, but his mouth was now lined with the thick caramel and it stuck to his teeth. Something to drink would do the trick!
Tip toeing back to his bag, he snagged his canteen. Only issue was that there was nothing inside. Sitting that back down he looked around. They hadn’t restocked on water, teas, milk or anything else that served as a hydrator. But they did have a few bottles of mead…
‘Just a sip to get my mouth cleared.’ He kept telling himself.
A bottle of Honey Mead and a small cup later, Wind darted to the bathroom that joined the two large rooms they had rented out for the night and locked the doors. Looking at the bottle, it had a big honey bee on it. He hated bees!
Biting his bottom lip, he uncorked the dark bottle, poured half a glass and smelt it. His nose wrinkled at it, but it still smelt sweet from the honey. He shrugged and had it down in one. It had a subtle burn, followed by the smooth sweet honey.
He should have read the back of the bottle. Yes, the initial drink was made with honey, burning away the properties that Wind was allergic to. On the back it said that extra honey was added after distilled.
The door knob from the opposite room jiggled. “One minute!” Wind loudly whispered.
He was about to be caught. He put the cork back in the bottle, rinsed the cup out and was about to rinse his mouth out when he felt it. It was getting harder to swallow, harder for air to be breathed. He looked into the mirror, seeing the signs of an allergic reaction: neck and face puffing, skin reddened and splotchy, hives forming on his cheeks. The panic set in quickly, knocking over the glass he drank out of and it shattered all across the floor.
“Wind, are you okay? What just broke?” It was Wild.
“W-Wi-” He couldn’t get the other’s name out. His eyes watered in fear as he reached the door, fumbling to unlock it. He swung it open and was met with a very worried Wild.
“Wind! Holy Hylia, what happened? Did you get stung by a bee?”
Wind wasn’t even going to ask how Wild knew of that allergy. He took Wild’s wrist and pulled him into the bathroom. He wheezed as he presented the bottle he had drank from.
“You drank this?” Wild spun the bottle around, looking for anything he needed to know. “Shit Wind! It has raw honey in it.”
‘Am I gonna die?!’ Wind asked in sign.
“Not on my watch. Sit down, I need my slate.” Wind was grateful for the urgency behind Wild’s movements and his stealth. Last thing Wind wanted was one clothes, Time specifically, to wake up and see what had happened.
Though it was only a few seconds, Wind could no longer get air in. When Wild arrived back at his side, he slipped off the seat of the toilet, crashing into Wild.
“Wind? Damn it!” A pink fairy was released from Wild’s slate and she fluttered above the two until she swirled between Wind’s face and chest. He took in small breaths, eyes still as wide as saucers looking up the other.
Wild pulled out a Hearty Potion as he situated Wind into a sitting position. “Drink.”
Wind shook his head no. ‘Not one of those. We haven’t restocked!’
Wild rolled his eyes, pulling out a Fairy Tonic instead. “Drink or I’m forcing it down your throat.”
Wind saw the fire in Wild’s eyes and didn't go against him. He took a few sips until his throat loosened enough that he could drink the whole thing. He gulped in air greedily, leaning heavier into Wild’s side.
“How did you know?” He softly asked.
“Know what?”
“That I am allergic to honey and to bees?”
“As the designated cook, I needed to know if I should avoid making certain things. Your Granny told me about your allergies and your dislike the first time I got to see your world.”
“Oh.”
They sat there letting Wind gain his composure again before they needed to go back to bed. When that time came and the glass was cleaned up, Wind grabbed hold of Wild’s hand, silently asking to not be left alone. How could the Champ say no? He couldn’t. And if anyone asked about why Wild and Wind were sharing a bed, the answer was that Wild had a nightmare.
~
“Who drank some of my mead?!” Warriors asked as they packed up the rooms.
“No one drank your nasty bottle of honey mead.” Legend waved a dismissive hand.
“Vet, did you drink it?”
“I just said it was nasty and you think I did it?”
“Yes!”
As the two bickered over who did or didn’t drink Warriors alcohol, Time stood next to Wind and asked in a softer tone, “Wind, did you have anything to do with this?”
Wind turned his eyes up towards the eldest all innocently, saying, “I’m allergic to honey.”
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If it is still possible, I wish to become Thor, but actual god sized.
[WARNING: FLASHING LIGHTS AT END OF POST]
hmmm that is an incredibly tall order and to just hand a guy godhood isn't too fair in my opinion but, I'm always one for a compromise, people should definitely get what they come for but sometimes they need to take a bit more of a proactive route to get there themselves.
so here's the deal buddy, Ill make you an aspect of Thor, you wont be the man himself but you'll have his power running through your body and they way you look know wont do at all, we need to bleach that hair, grow it all the way out and give you a nice chunk of facial hair, there we go, really starting to look like the man himself but lets beef you out a bit, pack some muscle on you. Can't have the aspect of Thor walking around as skin and bones now can we.
I've also gone ahead and given you super strength and some lightning power, well right now you could probably make the lights in your house flicker but they'll get stronger with time trust me.
So here's how this is going to work, I've made you a sexy hot aspect of the god himself, but you want godhood? you need to earn it buddy. Get people to worship you, the more worship you get the bigger you'll get. 60 years ago it would have been hard to pull this off but you're living in the golden age of social media kid, make an Instagram, post thirst traps any compliments or follows Ill count towards people worshiping you. You're about 6ft tall now but every 100k followers will add another 1ft to your height, another 60 pounds of muscle and will definitely make your power grow, you'll be able to summon lightning from your hands in no time at all.
Of course, an aspect hasn't walked the earth in a while and with you here all of a sudden some old monsters are going to start coming out of the wood work, I hope you get your follower count up real soon because I give it a week before forgotten Norse monsters start coming out of the ocean to try and take your power for themselves. Hey man, I don't make the rules, gods or well aspects have responsibilities to uphold, did you really think it was just going to be laying around worshipping yourself?
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MORE HEADCANONS!!!
Part two to this post
Picrew by Naylissah
Age headcanon post
OKAY LETS GET STARTED also I DONT CARE that my oc is literally just me but cooler if anyone insults me over this I’ll cry
Day Torres (he/him, gay trans male)
(Picrew shows how he looks in the pilots and after that when he cuts his hair and grows up more)
5’3”
Mixed Latino/white
Has autism, depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, and PTSD (from ninja stuff)
Had top surgery a year before he was recruited to the team and starts testosterone a few months into season one
He’s best friends with all the ninja, but is BESTIE besties with Jay— they have a lot in common
He likes to borrow clothes from the rest of the team
His pet dragon from season one was named Briar
His elemental power is “life”, and his signature color is yellow
Power explanation: at minimum power (before he begins training) he can help grow and control plants that are already there, once he trains more and gets more powerful he can create plants and stuff from out of nowhere, once he’s reached his full potential he can do the same with animals, and at FULL full strength (like after Lloyd becomes the gold ninja and doesn’t need to feed off the rest of the team’s strength) with practice he can control living humans— he can also heal injuries
His hair gets darker as he ages, it’s not dyed
Was stealth until he got outed by a mean snake :( he was so scared his friends wouldn’t accept him, so realizing that he was still loved unconditionally was the push that helped him reach his full potential
(He also didn’t know that the rest of his team is queer too, which I’m sure would have made things less stressful)
A lot of his friends go to him for advice because he’s easy to talk to— for example, Day was the first person Jay told when she was questioning her gender
In between seasons three and four, he didn’t do much— he went home and lived with his family. He was very depressed after losing Zane— ai may have dumped him, but they were still good friends
Cole told Day he loved him when they were all trapped on the asteroid in season three, but didn’t pressure him for an answer. Day was too shocked and stressed out to think about it too much, and after that everything happened too fast and all the sudden he was back home and hadn’t spoken to Cole since Zane’s funeral
He thought about it a lot— Cole had always been a great friend, and he treated Day so kindly and with such attentive care (something Zane had admittedly been kind of bad at) but Day wasn’t really ready to be in a relationship so soon after Zane’s death.
Years later, after Zane came back (and later began a relationship with Pixal) and they had all worked as a team to save Ninjago yet again, and then had some time to relax a little… maybe then Day could consider it
Then he and Cole start dating a little bit before the start of season five, and stay together till the end <3
Okay in the original fanfic, Day only has one sibling but I decided I want him to be even more like me so instead he has three siblings now :P
He has a few tattoos, but I haven’t decided specifically what they’ll be
Lloyd Garmadon (they/them, unlabeled, nonbinary)
(I did three for Lloyd— one for when they’re a kid, one for once they’ve grown up because of the magic tea, and another one for the later seasons)
5’8” (eventually)
I’m keeping the idea that they’re not completely human (what they are I’m not sure, and neither is anyone else) but misako is human so Lloyd is at least half Japanese
Has body dysmorphic disorder from growing up nearly overnight (that gets slightly better with time), autism, and PTSD
Very tall and thin— they’re definitely strong, but not big
They bleach their hair, which is naturally dark brown— it usually has darker roots, but the picrew didn’t have that option lol
Has really dry skin and is always dehydrated
Feels a lot of gender dysphoria and always wears clothes way too big for them
Lloyd thinks all the bad things that happen are their fault
Cries really easily
They can’t even look in the mirror without feeling sick— all their scars remind them of fights they’ve lost
They hate being viewed as weak or a burden, so they always push themself too hard and end up burning out
They have a lot of nightmares and sleep way too little
Sometimes when they have a meltdown they go nonverbal and can’t speak for up to hours or days at a time
They’re not accepted by either of their parents for being nonbinary— they say that they’re “too young” to know what they���re talking about
Now they consider their teammates and Sensei wu to be closer family
Their best friends are Day, Nya, and Kai
“Runs away” a lot— sometimes they come back, sometimes they stay out until someone has to come find them.
It goes without saying that they don’t like Morro very much. They’re afraid of her.
When they were the golden ninja, they used to glow in the dark.
They get a lot of gender envy from Zane
Morro Wu (she/it, transfem demigirl, aroace)
(Picrews are morro when she was younger, and when she had died and was a ghost)
5’2”
Japanese
Has PTSD
It may have been in charge of the gang of ghosts in season five, but none of them respected her— they were transphobic :(
She managed to survive in the woods for a whole year before dying
Was 14 when she died, but now her consciousness is around 150 years old (yes that means Sensei wu is a few hundred years old)
She loves Day and really looks up to him, but Day doesn’t really like her that much— she almost killed Lloyd, after all
It’s best friend is Skylor— it has a job at Skylor’s restaurant, so they spend a lot of time there
She mostly avoids Lloyd, and feels really guilty for going so far as to legitimately almost kill them
Pixal Borg (no pronouns)
(This is Pixal when Pixal worked at Borg industries, and then a year or so after Pixal started living with Ronin)
5’2”
Pixal isn’t modeled after any human being; Pixal is just an android
Pixal, having been revived by Zane’s power source, also has a few “human” brain things like ai— Pixal has amnesia, sensory processing disorder, and depression
Pixal also uses arm crutches to get around because Pixal’s wiring is still a little damaged because Ronin accidentally messed up the wiring that helps Pixal balance (this is kind of similar to a human experiencing vertigo/dizziness after their eardrum gets damaged)
Pixal also has chronic pain that comes and goes from day to day, that sometimes makes it hard to walk (like nerve damage in the spine)
Despite being relatively petite, Pixal is very strong. This is because Pixal was built mostly to help Borg after his wife passed away; so Pixal would lift him into bed as well as carry heavy things like scraps of metal he used to build inventions
Pixal is the robot equivalent of afab (assigned female at… building?) but has never identified with that. Pixal only learns to accept this fact after Pixal joins Ronin and is given the freedom to dress however Pixal wants
(Oh yeah, in my canon instead of delivering Pixal to Chen, Ronin decides to rescue Pixal and let Pixal live with him in Stiix. They become a good team and Ronin teaches Pixal how to be a good criminal)
Pixal meets up with the ninja again in season five when they come to get the scroll of airjitzu from Ronin. Pixal decides not to go with them, but they keep in contact and visit often.
Pixal and Zane are in a queerplatonic relationship. They understand each other because they are both androids, and have a unique perspective.
Though Zane feels somewhat connected to ais identity living as a human, Pixal is completely nonhuman and does not experience gender or love in a way humans can comprehend
Pixal really hates the cold— it reminds Pixal of Zane, and for a good two years after ais death Pixal had a lot of grief that never really got dealt with
Skylor Chen (she/her, bisexual polyamorous trans woman)
Just one picrew because she isn’t around in the beginning of the series
6’0”
Blasian (specifically Chinese)
She has no power of her own, so her dad didn’t view her as “valuable” or “special” before she was useful in the tournament
After season four, she starts managing the chain restaurant business
Since she was only like 23 at the time, it quickly became overwhelming— good thing she had some family to help!
She has two older half siblings who she hadn’t had contact with for most of her life, after they left home. They were able to get back in contact with her when she moved to ninjago city
She now works at the main location in ninjago city, and her older siblings manage most of the more difficult things
Her eyes are red as kind of a leftover effect of the serpentine transformation spell— she also has pointed teeth and a forked tongue, but those weren’t options in the picrew lol
She still has all the powers that she absorbed from the other elemental masters
Her hair isn’t dyed, she uses her Shapeshifting power to make it look red
During the tournament, she made friends with Tox and Chamille, and they still chat online
She and Kai dated for only a few months before breaking up lol
She is dating Chamille now
She currently also has a crush on Pixal, but as a droid, Pixal isn’t really interested in humans
She’s friends with Ronin, but really hates Dareth
Okay that’s all I have room for, but I think I’ll do another headcanon post with the other elemental masters, as well as Ronin.
#ninjago headcanons#Lego ninjago#ninjago oc#lloyd garmadon#morro wu#ninjago morro#pixal borg#ninjago pixal#skylor chen#ninjago skylor
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These days while I think about my childhood and adolescence, I'm starting to realize that my parents are the reason for most of my insecurities...but mostly my mom. She's made me feel so insecure about every flaw on my body ever since I was a kid and even now likes to point them out and say "we need to work on that" (which usually means me instead of "we" even though I hardly have the time to invest in my appearance the way she wants me to), "or we need to fix that."
And the worst part is that I'm finding out that many of the body flaws I have are more common than I thought and some of these things are even expected.
Probably TMI so feel free to skip this paragraph: just tonight, I saw my mom spreading a Collagen + Hyaluronic acid cream all over her, female bits and the inner leg areas and crevices. She started saying that she's really dark down there and that she hopes the cream will lighten it up. Then she said, "I know you're dark there too. Have you been working on that? That could be why Dr. _____ scrounged up her face when she had to examine you that day."
Thanks mom, I had felt insecure the first time you brought it up years ago and just recently, I had finally got over that after learning that it's normal for that area to be darker than the rest of your body. Now after your comment, I'm feeling insecure about it again. Then I try to tell her what I had learned about it being normal to be dark down there and that you can get darker with age (especially as a brown woman). She says, "It may be normal doesn't mean you have to accept it--" blah blah. The p*rn industry has really ruined people's perspective about their own bodies. Like, sorry mom, but I don't think rubbing bleaching cream down there is gonna help? And that's probably not even safe.
Some other things (not all) my mom has told me:
Your shoulders are really broad. That's not normal for a girl. It's those pushups you're doing, you're not supposed to be doing that type of exercise, you'll look like a guy
You should be wearing makeup everyday (when I got to college even though I was not allowed to wear makeup until then, despite expressing a deep interest for it in middle school and high school)
We need to fix your back acne. No man will want to touch you (proceeded to invade my privacy in the shower to scrub my back [really hard to the point my skin was sore]. She'll say that I agreed with her because I'm the one that had to call her over when ready, but what other choice did I have? To disobey meant getting yelled at or beaten. Guess what...I still get the acne but not as much now that I'm older. My arms still get it really bad but that's because that's specifically a build-up of skin that occurs from scrubbing my skin too hard...thanks mom👁👄👁)
You need to trim your ____(female bits) to stay clean
We need to do something about your stretch marks
*Points at the pigmentation issue on my arms* Your upper arms are still two-tone. I gave you a cream for that (multiple times throughout my life so far and FYI, the bleaching cream doesn't work much. I've had better luck fading it with Shea butter)
When I was 8: we need to pluck your eyebrows, they're so bushy
When I was 12: Your breasts are getting bigger, are you sexually active? (I said no, but that didn't stop her from forcing me to take a pregnancy test)
You need to wear a bra around the house because your father is in the house you can't just let them hang out like that (even though I get breast pain and my breasts start to sag a whole lot more after wearing bras for extended periods of time)
You need to start wearing skirts and dresses (and also said "wearing pants all the time is why you're dark down there" even though I told her that wearing skirts and dresses was making me darker than pants because I have thicc thighs with no gap. Like imagine how much my skin is sticking and rubbing against each other every time I walk...All that body heat and sweat-> darkening of skin)
You need to get on that treadmill. You need to exercise (not a day goes by where she doesn't mention this, despite knowing I don't have the time for it...and that is mostly because the time frame that I can use the treadmill is only the really early morning period (I have class at this time). That's because it's in the garage...where mid-morning gets really hot and by afternoon, it usually gets around 32°C (90F) and can get higher than 38°C (100F) on some days. And that's without any breeze or airflow, and the garage is full of dust and dirt that clogs my nose to the point I can't breathe, so forget using a fan. Before we moved to this house, my mom promised me that we'd go out to run everyday and that I can join a gym close-by which was in between my drive to school. She convinced me to give up the weight-lifting equipment I was using (for a year) before we moved. The move was about moving to a safer neighborhood, so I was easily onboard. I had gotten so healthy and strong before then. And now it's like all the promises were broken and I'm stuck in pharmacy school with little to no time to exercise while my health deteriorates. I do miss it, I miss feeling super strong. And every time she nags me to exercise, it feels like a slap in the face. I wanted to go to my school's gym but the walk from the parking lot to the gym seems to be pretty long, and as the drive home is already long, I can't risk it. I'm already academically drowning, I can't take much time away from my study time especially now that I have clinical rotation. I've literally been trying to do squats in the pharmacy but can't do much because I gotta focus on my work. And now my knees are hurting from standing for a long time, and they seem to give out every time I stand up after sitting. I don't know what's going on with them. Is it a tendon injury? Strain? A sprain? Random Inflammation? A DVT in both legs?)
Why can't she just let me feel comfortable in my own skin for once? Why is she so insistent on making me into a copy of her? She even has me dressing like her most of the time (minus the dresses/skirts). I don't think I ever dressed my age from the moment I became a teen. Which probably explains why so many older men were checking me out back then (besides the usual creeps)
I'll try to see my school's counselor/therapist and show this to them. I know I wouldn't know where to start had I not written this.
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I have a KYM fanart WIP I started before ch4, and I was using my own appearance headcanons in it. My strilondes are Black and non-albino, and in ch4 it’s a point that Rose and Dirk are naturally blonde (iirc it was already mentioned previously? But wasn’t a big point). What would you like me to do about it? Also yeah, humans aren’t known to have purple eyes either lol so they *could* technically be Black, non-albino, and naturally blonde
Also while typing this I realized a grave error I was making. For some reason I’ve always imagined Rose Strider to have purple hair (currently all my Roses have purple hair if the setting allows it; main beta Rose is currently pale lavender though, all the others more dark purple; not much thought, it just happened). But if she isn’t naturally blonde, she should have *bleached* hair. My Dave literally starts out with bleached hair and grows out his natural black hair on the meteor (not as in “natural=good, unnatural=bad”, as in “bleached is Dirk, Dave is not Dirk”).
And now I’m thinking about the “she should just be Dirk” from the note to the first chapter and thinking about making a new Rose Strider design (I did one aaaall the way back in 2017, iirc very close to me just getting into HS, and I still use it. Props to the 2017 me though for realizing very clearly that Rose would still have the triangle shades in 2009!!!), and just, incorporating so much Dirk into it. And thinking through her life and incorporating so much Dirk into it.
And now I’m thinking, for Dave it was fundamental to break out of the Dirkness instilled onto him, what will all that be for Rose, who is *actually much closer to Dirk*?
Oh oh and, since I’m here, I’ll put the things I’ve wanted to write in the ao3 comment here too, as much as it’ll work. I’m *so* fucking emotional over KYM. I found it accidentally (was looking for porn lol) and it has full force pulled me out of my Intermission hyperfixation I was miserable in and reactivated my investment into the Kids. AND THE STYLE. *Cal*. The commands. Screaming screaming screaming screaming.
Oh and. Question. Why is there no Gamzee’s color but both Dirk and Hal with Cal?
I do not think Rose Strider is entirely Dirk though, and I think Dirk raised by Bro would have been different from her too, including afab Dirk. Now I’m interested to think about that….
And the ch4 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
I love Rose Strider. I love Rose Strider. I love Rose Strider. I love Rose Strider.
And I love Dave Egbert.
I also remember thinking a lot about SBURB and carapacians wrt the comment I’ve originally planned to write? But now I don’t think those thoughts are actually all that relevant and now I just want to sit and wait and read.
@_@ WHOA WHAT A SWEET ASK thank you!!!! mind blown seein this baby in my inbox today HAHA
god this got long i rly love rambling and i leap at any chance to do it about KYM so HAHHDFJKG
first of all KYM FANART!?!?!?!!! CRIES ACTUAL BLOOD OH THANK YOU 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
as for an answer to your question, hmm!!! i'm honestly honored to receive anything so i don't have many answers to that!! especially because my actual race hcs for the strilondes are.... incredibly fluid and they just appear to me as what's fun in that moment HAHADFJG sometimes they're white, sometimes they're mixed and/or white-passing, sometimes they're black, sometimes they're black and albino. i dont think their hair colors are an indication of their race at all, rather it's more just another cue to whatever mutations they received during the cloning process, like, no matter what color their skin comes out as, rose always tends to have white-ish hair while dirk is blond-ish to me.
so ig do whatever you'd like with that info!! it's hard to pick one option with that because i like them all HAHAFJG
(god i do love a lavender-haired rose though 😭 every rose fanart design i see is my favorite idk how people can just decide on one... thankfully for me tho im a writer and thus can just sort of vaguely dance away from ever having to choose LOL)
will say though, YEAH, the way she dresses is very dirk. her hair is styled exactly like dirk's, too. what she wears specifically, though, definitely depends, because.... well, cuz the thing with 'rose is dirk' is that, as you've pointed out (and as i'll go on about later), there's a difference between being dirk and being RAISED by dirk. especially a dirk who is bro. so it is just as likely that rose is wearing an outfit reminiscent to alpha dirk as it is that she's wearing a smaller version of bro's outfit as it is that she's just wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with some generically edgy bullshit on it. bro isn't as adamant to controlling his children's fashion tastes as some of his other things, the question is more... would rose be interested in branching out like that? or would she care more about copying him?
there's also a running joke with my friends that rose strider actually just dresses in playboy outfits all the time because bro is a porn-rotted pervert with a hentai addiction. so sometimes i just imagine her with shades, gelled hair and a sailor fuku. lmfao.
thinking about it, i think it'd be cute if rose had a shirt with just a black circle on it. or some of design based on the ouroboros, hmhmhm... decisions decisions thoughts thoughts...
And now I’m thinking, for Dave it was fundamental to break out of the Dirkness instilled onto him, what will all that be for Rose, who is *actually much closer to Dirk*?
it's fun watching everyone go insane going down the same mental paths i did whilst creating killswitch HAHAHJDFG... INDEED YES!!!!!!! you are absolutely right to say this... what does it mean for rose to go through the dave journey of breaking out of his brother's influence?
so what i'll say is this: KYM functions as a 'pre-canon' fic describing rose strider's backstory. if/when i get to continue on with the killswitch au, i will actually try and write down more of the details of their actual sburb session, where rose does get to go through a lot more of dave's actual plot points. dave starts off idolizing his brother before separation from him leads him to process his emotions about how he was raised. the same will happen for rose when she's in the game 🥰💖
I’m *so* fucking emotional over KYM. I found it accidentally (was looking for porn lol) and it has full force pulled me out of my Intermission hyperfixation I was miserable in and reactivated my investment into the Kids. AND THE STYLE. *Cal*. The commands. Screaming screaming screaming screaming.
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUUUUU!!!! that means so much to me 😭 lmfao trying to find porn and accidentally getting obliterated is one of my fave things to experience on ao3. welcome back to loving our darling kids >:3 <3 and thank you for sharing your thoughts and your love!!! it makes it that much easier and that much more exciting to work on updates knowing i have people like you to write for 🥰💖💖💖 if you do get a chance to comment i cant wait to read them~ just the thought is super appreciated wah!
Why is there no Gamzee’s color but both Dirk and Hal with Cal?
a lot of it is just a coincidence from that particular chapter that gamzee's influence isn't seen as much! my approach to lil cal is that he is an imperfect blend of every component he's made up of, and all of those components are souls constantly fighting for control. however, because of the nature of their personalities, some are able to be more in control than others.
'control' can also mean different things: it could mean that they get to control lil cal's dialogue (most of his dialogue is very reminiscent of caliborn), while others get to control what lil cal will focus on in the narrative (lil cal goin on about bro's RIPPLING BICEPS and PECS and how MAAAANLY he is was a reference both to caliborn's alpha male bullshit and also arquius/equius)
only one half of gamzee was sucked into lil cal which i think has done very weird things to how he's been integrated. in some way, this has put his ability to influence lil cal at a big disadvantage, especially when he's up against such huge personalities like caliborn or dirk/hal. i don't think he's as easy to spot and i think considering the nature of gamzee's personality, he's not exactly running to 'speak' or grab for control. he's just chilling. but his influence is there!!! especially when it comes to type of violence bro is encouraged to enact
AKA!!!!!
sometimes the violence that bro enacts is because of caliborn but more times than not it is actually because of gamzee. gamzee intensifies bro's capacity to love and the way that twists into extreme excessive violence. caliborn's violence is aggressive, necessary, quick and blunt, which gamzee's is more random, more encompassing and, most importantly, WAAAAY more sexual. gamzee is the reason why bro is so willing to take and utilize drugs despite the way that contradicts alpha dirk's resistence to them and the reason he is still more than capable of expressing affection towards rose. bro obsessively obsessively Obsessively adores his little sister and this is all because of gamzee's yandere ass and we will see more of that in chapters to come >:3
.... anyway, to actually answer that question: there was no gamzee color there in ch4 because gamzee did not choose (or have the ability) to speak there
I do not think Rose Strider is entirely Dirk though, and I think Dirk raised by Bro would have been different from her too, including afab Dirk. Now I’m interested to think about that….
true!!! she's not >:3 such is the fun of nature vs nurture. rose can never actually be dirk because she's rose. she can also never be dirk because she was not raised in the middle of an ocean or raised in fuckin 80s era texas.
but also she IS dirk because she says she is dirk
and because bro/dirk says she is dirk
and because she is a dirk who was raised by a dirk
(except she's not a dirk raised by a dirk, she's a rose raised by a dirk).
rose strider does not WANT to be rose, she does not want to be her own person (dirk does not want her to be her own person), she can't handle being her own person, she wants to be her brother. she wants to replace her identity with his. that is not psychologically possible which is half of why she's as fucked up as she is HAHA. rose is not a perfect clone of dirk. even clones would develop their own personality. twins can have identical dna and will still have their own personalities. it all depends on the circumstances of their experiences, theres so much that can define what makes up a person and that's really what i'm trying to explore with rose. just a whole bunch of identity fuckery hajfhgdjg
also AFAB DIRK W/ BRO IS DEFINITELY VERY INTERESTING because i think the difference between dirk and the beta strilondes is that when faced with their parental issues, dave assimilates and rose plays along. dave didnt try and resist his training. rose, when under the mindset that her mother wanted to engage in psychological warfare with her, didnt roll her eyes and ignore it and she didnt do a thing to shut it down. she engaged in battle!! she retaliated with her own mind games!! she took her passive aggression and returned it, which is why, to me, rose would take everything bro threw at her and try and return it tenfold.
but dirk hrmrmrmrmmm.... seems more naturally rebellious? and when faced with his own bullshit he argues against it, even while he's lowkey folding under the pressure. i think, in my interpretation of a brodirk plotline, i would use haldirk as an inspiration. constant bickering and arguing and trying to either grab for the upperhand or deflect whatever blows he receives, all while slowly but surely going fucking INSANE under the surface until it EXPLODES.
and like, listen, i feel bad for any strider child of bro's HJKDFGSDFG but i think dirk would hurt me so much cuz he wouldnt rly allow himself to have an outlet (which is relatable to me so uGHGHGH i FEEL ITTT).... i think out of all the strider kids he'd have the worst time with physical self-harm to cope and ugh the worst dysphoria too because of the ways bro would torture him about it (and he would get some of the worst bro torture imo too because at least dave is passive enough to not warrant punishment yknow and at least rose is strongwilled enough to brute force her way through much of the insults she gets. i imagine dirk would be rly weak to bro's verbal abuse and that on top of the physical and sexual shit UGH POOR DIRK POOR ALL OF THEM HONESTLY)
I GOTTA STOP THERE IM NOT TRYNA MAKE NEW AUS HERE LMFAO 🤣😭🤣😭🤣
BUT YEAH IM GLAD YOU LOVE ROSE STRIDER AND DAVE EGBERT THEY ARE MY DARLINGS MY ANGELS MY CHILDREN MY PRIDE!!!!!! i would still love to read your sburb/carapacians thoughts tho if you're ever inclined to share them 🥰 but YEAH
THANK YOU FOR SUCH A GREAT ASK THO AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT it's great hearing from you 🥰🥰🥰🥰
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cut my hair short like I've wanted to for years and instead of the gender euphoria I thought I'd have I'm sitting in the dark, sobbing in my room. So I'm just going to ramble my thoughts
I love my haircut. I've wanted this haircut since I was 12, before probably, when I saw Thalia Grace join the Hunters of Artemis and forsake men. (At the time the idea that hunter/hunter relationships could happen was something I clung onto so bad, and I still do. Mythology backs me up, RR) It took me nearly 10 years to actually get someone to cut it for me. It's always been a struggle of oh we can't go too short :) you'll look like a boy :) :) I don't regret getting my haircut. I love it so much, it feels nice.
But it doesn't feel the way I thought it would.
I had long pinkish brown hair before this summer (dyed it pink without bleaching, let it fade) I cut it off in May, but again the stylist who was so nice and so sweet and my sister's friend's mother left it a little too long so I could still style it. So I could still look like a girl. With my "they/them is plural" and "why are there so many trans/gay kids in this tiny rural county" mother in the room (until I yelled at her in the car once because singular they is grammatically correct and is used in every day life, and she's smart enough to know that. she did agree with me then, at least) I couldn't ask for shorter.
They were gossiping about the ballet studio I used to dance at. I never fit in with those girls. I never looked pretty or was flexible or danced very well. I felt my best dancing my senior year as the Beast/Prince in Beauty and the Beast when we had no guys at the studio, but I was so jealous of all the rest of them in pretty tutus and pointe shoes I had paid so much time and blood and money for that I never got to dance in.
It's been four years since then. I still mourn who I could have been, who I can never be again because my body stopped working that way. As if my chronic illness is what's keeping me from being one of them, not everything else.
I don't know what snapped in me that I wanted to finally cut my hair now. I bleached it the night before, and it came out surprisingly well. Bleach blond(e), but the semi permanent pink had been soaked into my hair so long that even with the bleach, it turned pink in places. It turned a beautiful, feminine, ballet slipper pink that I couldn't have gotten if I tried. I was going to dye the rest of it pink again, this time on bleached hair so it would be more vibrant. Mostly bleach blond(e), though.
And yet, after washing away the chemicals that hurt my lungs and burnt my skin, it wasn't what I wanted. I joked that it looked like Draco Malfoy, but really, it scared me. I looked into the mirror that night and I didn't see a girl. I saw a boy, the kind of boy I very much did not want to be. The kind of boy that scared me and hurt me and bullied me in high school without even really knowing or caring that I existed. The kind of boy that all my straight and bi friends would date and get abused by and his impact on their lives still comes in the form of therapy appointments and fucks up their current relationships.
I looked into the mirror and knew I didn't want to be a boy, ever, and I never want people to think of me as a boy.
Expect for that person that called me he/him in a Link cosplay. Or the little kids from the dance studio that only knew me as the prince from beauty and the beast.
It's like, if people see me as a boy without hesitation, that's cool. But if they look at me and think they know I'm trans, that's what I don't want. It's like, they don't see a boy if they see that. They see a girl who hates herself and being a girl so much she's masquerading as someone she's not, and she's not doing it well. I've seen the way they interact with my friends, the oops sorry he's and the let's go guys—wait, can I even say that anymore? They see me as a boy in a girl way, but not in the fun genderqueer fuckery kind of way, but with cisgender sorrow and pity.
I'm not a boy. I want to be a girl. I want to be a girl, but some part of me knows I'm not. I just want to be a girl and I want to love other girls and I don't want to deal with the inherent not-girlness that modern lesbianism has forced upon itself, that's always been there and never been there, I don't want to go into my lesbian literature class anymore because now I'm not just another gay girl in a lesbian English lit class, I'm a ??? and my identities will be questioned by people who have no answers either. I'll tell them I'm a girl, and they'll give me a look like "okay 😏 but when you start falling down the she/her to she/they... to he/him pipeline I'm going to say I told you so with so much condescendence any joy I have for making you 'one of us' is going to feel worthless".
I hate my haircut. I miss my long hair. I want a boyfriend I can brag about choosing despite all the pretty girls in the world. I want to fit in with the girls who I went out to bars with once, who I went to pride with but felt like the token obvious queer so they could validate their own place on the sidelines of the parade while their perfect boyfriends texted them I love yous. I don't want to be their toy model so they can use me to carve out a place in a community they already belong in, when I'm still too scared to hold my girlfriend's hand but I'm fine wearing a flag that I don't even know if it's "problematic" because someone will always find something wrong with me being a girl with a girlfriend, even among people who say they're just like me.
If I'm even a girl (and if my gf is even a girl, which is a whole other issue I've only heard the beginning of)
I love my haircut, because people are going to look at me and think I'm hot now. I stand out. I draw attention. I'm on the exec board of three clubs, I have positions of power and will stand out even more. I'll be recognizable and unforgettable. As I end the so called "trial period" and am getting ready to be a "real adult", I want one last chance before I blend into the real world never to be seen again. I love and hate my haircut because of how other people will see me now.
I had always wanted to cut it for myself. So I thought.
I love my haircut, but people are going to look at me and ask for my pronouns in a way they never did when I had long hair. When I actually felt more attached to being non-binary, when I felt less like a girl. I feel more like a girl than I ever have, and now no one is going to believe me.
#I've never felt more connection to the label of trans or nonbinary but at the same time I've never felt less#I am really interested in the subject of the lesbian literature class but man am I DREADING the people who are going to be in it#I know what I signed up for. but if I have so sit through a Socratic Seminar arguing the existence of nb lesbians I think I will Scream#like. I've already heard from one girk who took the class that it's pretty heavy and triggering material. and from another that she didn't#understand non-binary lesbians before taking the class#how do I explain now that's I'm still nonbinary. but I'm a girl. and in my situation that's a really nonbinary thing to be#it's not gender dysphoria it's more like... gender mourning. gender expectations vs reality#I stopped crying which is nice I'm glad I wrote my thoughts out#I want to share because I have never seen a POV like this and who knows. maybe someone else is going through it tonight
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Chapter 2 (Unwritten Rules)
So far the Smith family seem like nice people, a bit dysfunctional, but nice nonetheless. So far you’ve learned that Beth is pretty much the head of the family. Jerry just kind of exists in the household. His kids don’t seem to fully respect him and neither does Rick. Beth and Jerry’s relationship seems to be on the rocks since they fight almost everyday over the most mundane things. You’ve learned to start bringing headphones to work if you want to clean in peace. Summer comes and goes. She doesn’t really interact with you much yet but what can you expect from a teenager who only cares about boys and popularity? Morty has been the one person who will actually give you the time of the day. He will start conversations like inviting you to join in activities like watching inter dimensional cable or just discussing the latest thing his crush Jessica did at school. It’s really adorable hearing a pre-teen boy gush about his high school crush. It makes you remember those days. Now the one family member you can’t seem to have a full conversation with is Rick. That man has more walls up than attack on titan. You understand that not everyone is going to be the most open and receptive to new people but my god he acts like you’ve betrayed him in the past or something. Anytime you’ve run into him you just get grunts or ‘hmm’ in return for any questions you may ask and that’s on a good day. Sometimes he’ll just straight up ignore you and walk away when you request for help in finding some kind of cleaning item. You’ve had to learn quickly to not let it get under your skin or it’ll hurt your feelings. It’s just how Rick is. You’ve managed to stay out of his way and especially out of his stuff for the past few weeks since you’ve started working for them. However, today that luck ran out. Turns out Rick has been in and out of the garage a lot lately working on some sort of experiment. The problem is that the experiment is starting to stink and that smell is starting to leak into the rest of the house. Beth has been really patient when it comes to her father and the countless things he does in the house. However she can’t stand it when the first thing she hears after a long day of work is Morty, Summer and Jerry complaining about how the smell is getting stronger everyday. So that’s where you step in. You’re about to face what you believe is the Goliath of a mess with a bottle of bleach and a sponge. You truly did not want to go into this man’s garage. He treats it like his sanctuary where he’s the king but it’s either to deal with a disgruntled Rick or upset the only people who offered to give you a job. Obviously you aren’t going to do the latter. First class ticket to Raging Rick Town here you come. You sigh as you slowly open the door to the garage. You squint expecting to be yelled at only to be met with eerie silence. You open them to see there’s no one in there. You let out a deep sigh. ‘Better to get to work’. You think to yourself as you walk around trying to find the source of the smell. It’s hard to tell since there’s just so much crap everywhere. There’s various items on the workbench, on the floor, on the shelves, and falling out of cabinets. You shake your head ‘A king should definitely take better care of his sanctuary’ You mumble to yourself still searching. You come across what looks like a decomposing specimen in a bottom cabinet. With a quick sniff you confirm it’s what the smell is. It nearly makes you want to puke bringing it that close to your face. ‘Jesus Christ what is it?’ You question yourself. ‘Matter of fact I don’t want to know.’ You quickly toss it into the nearest bin.
‘Well while I got the place to myself I should clean up a little bit’ You think looking around at the total disaster that is this garage. You try to organize the best you can with little knowledge of what anything is. The best you can do is straighten up items in the same area. You decided to throw away anything that gave off a foul smell as well. You’re not sure if you’ll regret that later or not. Regardless, the smell is creeping into the rest of the house and it’s unfair to the rest of the family if Rick doesn’t want to clean up his ‘experiments’ or whatever he’s doing in here. You manage to make good progress until you hear a noise you never want to hear. The sound of a portal. ‘Fuck..’ Is the only thought that your brain can come up with before Rick steps through well stumbles through. He seems to be a bit drunk. ‘Great we’ll mix alcohol with a temper tantrum’ You think as you make eye contact with the tall man.
“What the *burp* fuck are you doing in here!?” Rick questions stumbling towards you with a pretty angry look on his face. “D-does this look like some kind of playground for lowly w-workers?” You shake your head. “N-no there’s a smell in the house and B-Beth-“ You start but get cut off “I don’t give a flying fuck what Beth says! T-this is my domain. I don’t want some cheap maid touching my s-shit.” He grumbles looking around at the “damage”. “God you moved nearly *burp* everything!” He exclaims slamming his hands on the workbench knocking stuff onto the floor. You flinch as beakers and books fall loudly onto the ground. “I-i can tell you where I put everyth-“ “OUT!” You flinch again at how loud he can be. You hesitate then turn to the garage door. Before you leave you turn to look at Rick picking stuff up mumbling to himself. He turns to see you’re still there and glares in your direction. You whimper and quickly close the door. You shakily walk towards the dining room. You see Morty at the table eating some cereal. He sees your distressed face and his face turns to worry
“Y/N d-did something happen?” You nod slowly as a tear falls out “Come sit. What happened?” He says patting the chair next to him. “Your grandpa Rick can be a major dick..” You start out just looking down at your hands. Morty sighs, putting down his spoon. “Y-yeah he can be. Let me guess you t-tried to rid the house of the smell and it ended up being in his garage?” You nod yet again “Figures.” “I’ll talk to him at some point. He can treat us like that because we are family but you d-don’t deserve that.” You look up quickly. “No no you don’t have to do that! I don’t want to cause problems.” Morty chuckles softly and replies “Rick causes enough problems. What’s one more?” He shrugs going back to his cereal. You smile, feeling a bit better. You then hear a pair of footsteps coming down the stairs. You look up to see Beth and Jerry dressed in old timey clothes. “W-what is the occasion guys?” Morty asks. “We are going to a titanic interactive experience!” Jerry exclaims happily “Jerry has been looking forward to this for awhile.” Beth adds. “While we are out we expect the house to stay orderly. I’m sure you can help with that Y/N.” Beth smiles are you. You smile back
Rick comes into the living room seeming to be a bit more sober. You quickly look away to not make eye contact with him. “What’s going on?” He asks. “We’re heading out so I’m trusting you Rick to keep everything orderly.” Jerry says. “What do I hear about you guys leaving?!” Summer yells running down the stairs. “Yes I’m trusting you guys to have the place to yourselves. Not one thing out of place.” Jerry says in a threatening tone as they begin to walk out the door. “Or Morty can’t have adventures with Rick anymore.” Beth says. “W-what?!” Morty yells. “Not. One. Thing.” Jerry says again as they get into the car and being to pull away from the driveway. Before they even leave your view Summer has a giant smile on her face. “Well I’m having a party!” She says happily. “No you’re not Summer.” Rick interjects. “Because I’m having a party!” He says happily. It’s the first time you’ve seen a smile on his face. “G-guys you heard what mom said! If anything gets destroyed I can no longer go on adventures with Rick!’ Morty whines. “That sounds like a you problem.” Summer says pulling out her phone beginning to text people. “Rick!” Morty whines again. “Relax buddy. I-it’ll be fine. You got to relax s-sometimes.” Rick replies, patting Morty on his back and walking inside. Morty turns to you with such a pitiful look on his face. You can't help but feel sorry for him. “I can help clean.” You say trying to make him feel a bit better. He sighs and follows his sister and grandpa into the house. “Here we go” you say to yourself following them inside. To Be continued
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Paula Sladewski had a huge passion for Barbie dolls. She had collected them since her childhood, and had amassed a large, valuable collection, of over 500 Barbie dolls. A Michigan native, she liked Barbie so much, she wanted to be like her. Old before her time, but still a dreamy girl in many ways. But those growing up pictures of her masked a difficult home life, with an absent father, single mother, and a slew of stepfathers. She was adopted into the family at eight years old. At 14, she was dating a 29 year old man. Paula's older sister Kelly was alarmed, but their mom refused to do anything about it. It was Kelly, not her mother, who called the authorities on him. He was convicted and sentenced to two years in prison.
When he got out, and she was an adult by then, they resumed a relationship.
"She had a shape just like Barbie," said Gloria Connor, her grandmother. "She was a pretty girl."
"She was a good kid, smart in high-school, got all A's," added Merrill, Paula's grandfather.
As an adult, Paula bleached her hair and got a tan, and really did look like Barbie. Her hair was now platinum, and combined with her blue eyes and tan skin, she stood out. She was with a new man, Kevin Klym. She was also modeling and stripping at clubs, and then in 2003 she appeared in a video for Playboy's Ultimate Playboy Search. Although she didn't win, she was still proud to have made it to the last 100. Her family, while happy for her, didn't approve of her boyfriend, Kevin Klym. They had a tumultuous relationship, one involving domestic disputes, and resulting in Paula's nose being broken. Even through the Rollercoaster of their relationship, though, they still stayed together.
26-year-old Paula and her boyfriend decided to go to Miami for a New Years vacation. Paula had gotten tickets to see Lady Gaga perform at the Fountainbleau Hotel. They planned to stay a few days after the concert before flying back to the California, where they currently lived. Paula had moved there for college to study nursing, and was saving up money from her modeling. Kevin would make it back, but unfortunately Paula never would.
It was January 3, 2010, and she and Kevin were at Club Space, a popular nightclub in Miami. After a few hours of drinking, Kevin wanted to go back to their hotel room. He saw her getting too much unwanted attention, with her attire and her platinum blonde hair. She seemed to like the attention, but Kevin didn't. She was intoxicated and they were in a city neither of them were that familiar with, and it was the very early hours of the morning.
"She was wearing a dress that was cut very low," said North Miami Police Detective Michael Gaudio. "She started lifting up her dress. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and it was causing quite a scene."
Kevin wanted her out of there, but Paula insisted she wanted to stay. The bouncers immediately caught on to the dispute and kicked Kevin out. They said it was club policy to separate people when there was an altercation. Kevin ended up taking a taxi back to the hotel, and what happened after is not clear. But security footage shows Paula leaving the club not long after. Someone reported flames leaping from a dumpster, and police were called to the scene. Paula's badly burned body was found smouldering in the dumpster, 14 hours after her leaving the club. She was so badly burned they had to use dental records to identify her, and they couldn't determine how she died. The dumpster was close to a propane shop on NW 14 Avenue and 130 Street in North Miami.
"I think someone wanted to rape her and then burned the evidence," Paula's sister, Kelly Farris, said. "Anyone who did this would be covered in scratches. My sister was a fighter. She was a scrapper. But she didn't deserve to die this way."
Klym cooperated fully with police and had even hired his PI. He also wants to know what happened to Paula.
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CW/ abuse/ed/colourism/ all that fun stuff
re: tags of last post like .
when i was a teenager i had a very rigorously curated aesthetic & existence . which is partially the influence of growing up on the internet during the advent of the influencer era but also very much bred from the internalised colourism & fatphobia i experienced ages 10-15 for the colourism thing & literally up til like 19 for the latter. + eating disorders & gender dysphoria & a lot of abuse. like growing up my parents surrounded me w/ rail thin paler than the driven snow white men who walked the androgynous line to a T & so i was ashamed of having a darker skin tone (& im like p light skinned naturally anyways but it bothered me when i was in elementary school) like. i heard stories of my dad having used to use medicinal products to essentially burn his skin tone to be paler & there was that rly prevalent rumour that michael jackson had bleached his skin & that’s why he was pale now. so i had tried to use bleach for like cloth on my hands by just kinda pouring it on it but got scared & washed it off. it didn’t do anything but i never took off my hoodie bcoz 1. i didn’t want people to see my body & therefore continue to bully me for being “”fat”” & 2. i didn’t want to tan under absolutely any circumstances whatsoever in case i looked darker
by high school i was over the colourism thing but still felt hopeless in many ways. when i was a kid my dad had a thing of not letting me get second servings of food unless i “wanted to a pig like your mom” so . i just had this horrible eating disorder & an unlimited amount of access to alcohol, xanax, & valium. so i was a drug addicted, anorexic, deeply traumatised teenager who curated this aesthetic around myself of the tightest jeans you have EVER seen & long oversized button ups ala the horrors or nikki sudden or whatever & like. i carried myself in a weird cross between pete do.herty & EBR??? i wrote a lot i drew a lot all my friends saw my lack of attendance in school, nonchalant apathy towards grades, excelling in specific areas etc etc as like. cool, i think. like. i was never present @ lunch cuz my anxiety/autism couldn’t handle the noise etc, But I Like. i wasn’t . skipping lunch. i was hiding in the library cuz i was so mentally unwell i was in the 410 program or whatever it was called but i never told anyone that. i just pretended my absence was natural to me, like ‘why Would i be there?’ y’know . i made all my actions seem deliberate & as perks to the way i lived my highly aestheticised life all the while they were often symptoms of handicaps i had due to continual abuse & a horrible mental health issue.
and THATS what i think people fell in love with. i think people fell in love w/ my ability to brush off shortcomings as positives & Cool, Actually. i was & still kinda am very nonchalant about things. people who “fell in love with me” or whatever had habits of wanting approval, or idk smth & so they’d feed my addictions (probably never realising they were addictions cuz we were all kids) & like, sorta copy the way i dressed or what i listened to & it was like soooo important 2 me as a teenager but liek. y’know i’m 21 now it’s fine i don’t care mimicry is how humans learn & adapt & become themselves i don’t care . like . anyway but i felt…. soooo powerless against my own image. like i could NOT say no i was always so bad at saying no i would have people over bcoz they always said they “needed lu time” & i’d sit in the corner of the room w/ the bottle of wine they got me, hugging it & drinking w/ my back to the window & curled to the record shelf while theybsat across from me just. emotionally outpouring everything onto me & i’d kinda diagnose them w/ a song bcoz i didn’t know … how to help . i just felt if i answered my own problems w/ music, others probably needed that music Also.
being treated my age by loke rah.bek in around 2016 or so was Shocking to me. like i was amazed. he did everything he could to make sure i was safe amongst adults, he asked me my age & understood i was 15 & didn’t have the power to like protect myself against these dudes so he kept me between him & hannes after some dudes were creepy /+ rude to me. it totally changed the way i saw myself. i was still sick for years after n don’t consider myself to be healed yet but im a lot different.
iv only confessed feelings for maybe max 5 people & it never worked out ever or i didn’t act on it. i met munna in the in-between of the PI/experimental lucien era & whatever i did after that & they’re the only person i trust with my entire whole heart (other than my brother) & i have told them i love them & have feelings for them. i’m not good @ distinguishing romantic & platonic love but i know if they were here, we’d be inseparable & id lie my head on their lap while they played sonic & i’d doodle felix & sonic as best buddies while we lounged around. but alas god is evil & munna lives in bham, uk so. but munna has Always like, always always always been so respectful, loving, supportive, & just accepting of me. i can be honest w them & im comfy w them & i Don’t think they like the “idea” of lucien. i think they just like lucien. & i just like munna. no ideas or mirages. not to mention they’re one of the very few people who have ever actively tried to get me to get help. arguably i would have never gotten diagnosed with fibro/RA if munna hadn’t encouraged me to Please go to a doctor cuz i like. just do not do that. i don’t go to doctor or get help ever cuz i don’t wanna bother anyone so like . i mean it’s almost killed me a few times or put me in real harm . but i did get help largely so i could be better for munna. munna is like my daily micro dosing of LR. aka good person.
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blood for a thimble
back in 2019/2020, I was a part of my city's 'vagina monologues.' I was in a special production where we could write our own material. and I decided to write about my general disdain for prescribed womanhood, my hatred of terfs for coopting something as beautiful as feminism, and how it felt to watch kids be scared of getting their first periods.
_________________________
Minimize your pores, shave your legs, smooth your calves, trim your thighs, flatten your tummy, cut your cuticles, iron your hair, gape your thighs, perfect your skin.
make your hair smoother, sleeker, straighter, like silk - like porcelain: like the quiet, dead, shiny, smiling, dead, perfect angel that you are, that you could be:
so light and smooth and pearly you would hardly even notice it’s there -- hardly notice I’m there.
Take note of my uniform.
tattered, cropped shirts, jeans ripped perfectly on purpose, cascading, limp hair with bleached split ends on purpose, a ‘One Size Fits All’ label declared on a shirt best fit on a body I haven’t had since I was ten:
This is the oyster girls are offered.
we rise as Venus dripping in pink glitter and confident struts, and with the swelling of our womb, we are rewarded and shoved back into the sea.
impressioned with thinking the world was made for our smiles, only to learn they are not wanted from the pleasure of our digitorum and autonomy.
how dare we feel and not want to be felt.
I know that men noticed a fire raging on my tongue and in my limbs before I did: curling the ends of my mouth, carting me for consumption before I had the chance to rid myself of blood stained underwear.
my womanhood suddenly a nuisance, an annoyance, a marker of growing up, I guess.
Not a right for consumption of my swelling body.
It is not expanding for you, it’s expanding for a child.
Mind you, I was still a child.
You’d think the world wants young girls to disappear.
And we do. Quietly. At night, before school, after sleepovers.
Becoming a woman slices us into a binary so slender, it suffocates us all.
Even the ones born with the ‘right’ chromosomes, who can even be a woman anymore?
But still, please, witness my attempts to finally be flat and small and quiet enough to blend in with my surrounding buildings.
I promise you. I’ll do it all.
Only cry into vanity mirrors, or the floor of my closet, or the dressing rooms of shopping malls.
I promise you: my suffering will be silent and private and you will never watch the painstaking process of me attempting to shrink into my skin.
No, you, you only see a smile sweet and small and pretty and beautiful.
I still know this smile -- this small, sweet smile -- all too well, no longer in myself, but in the girls I work with.
Working at summer camps, I bear witness to many girls having their first period.
There is always fear in her eyes when she rustles mine or another’s sleeping bag awake in the middle of the night because she is afraid of her own body.
The fear always bothers me the most.
I wonder if she is aware of how men will treat her differently, as if the blood a foreshadowing -- drafting her into ranks which biology and cisnormativity guaranteed her.
A period means that you can have a baby. It doesn’t even mean that you are a woman.
And when I got mine, the only thing people seem to care about is that it made me boobs two cup sizes bigger -- which felt like the only place I was allowed to grow.
I was built, apparently, to fertilize the world, but instead I want to watch it burn.
In the ashes, I want to plant seeds of thought into the minds of young girls who are told they are the most beautiful when they take up the least space.
I bleed not for you, but for those girls.
you are not your anatomy. it means as much or as little as you want it to.
And I for one will not eliminate young girls, trans girls, trans boys - all children, beautiful children -- from what I contrive of my own body.
We are so much more than our ability to breed future oppressors, and I don’t want to equate my woman-ness with my ability to bleed.
I am not scared of being a woman.
I am angry at a world that made me feel small for being one.
I was born to take up space, not just to bear your fucking children.
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simpbur's college roommate
tw: obsession, possessiveness? not really tbh, simpbur is caught, overstim, vibrator, afab body, vaginal penetration, pretty boy is thrown around and so is good boy, praise, maybe a tiny bit degrading, im just a little bit scared to look through this to check for anything else. its not bad but im just scared i'll delete this if i dont post it now.
1.7k words, so not that long but I promised you guys content so here it is!
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it was the smaller things, really.
you wouldn’t notice them, if you weren’t looking for them, type of deal. a shirt that fits you just a little bit too snug so it sits in the back of your closet, or did. an old polaroid with an older friend, faces smiling into the flash of light, it had sat in the bottom of your old memory box, said box gone untouched by you for months. an oversized, raggedy hoodie that you had ditched for a newer, softer coat.
you didn’t want to believe it but at the moment you had bigger fish to fry with schoolwork.
the coat from before sat in your lap at the moment, you parked yourself in the library as you studied with a close friend for some government essay, and you were just nearly finished with the second to last page, when your friend spoke up.
she taps on your arm, pulling out your earbud, “hey, your roommate is will, er, wilbur, right?” you stopped in the middle of a word, lifting your head to meet her eyesight.
“yeah, why? he being creepy or something?” you ask, hoping for a no, he wasn’t bad, but you knew that if anybody else had been his roommate, he would've found himself in trouble during the first week alone.
“no, actually, it’s just- it’s just that, um, are you guys dating?” you snorted, really? you and him? dating?
“he’s cute, but no, why d’ya ask?” you laugh to yourself as you look into your notes as you start typing again.
“well, he’s just been wearing your hoodie, like a lot.” you still, eyebrows furrowing. your hoodie?
“how do you know it's my hoodie?” you look her in her eyes, folding your arms together as you lean back.
“i know for sure its your hoodie because it has that one bleach stain on the front and on the shoulder from when you said you could wear a hoodie and bleach your hair, and the time that you spilt bleach directly onto your hoodie and panicked for five minutes before doing something about it. i know it's yours so why is he wearing it?” your mind is blank as you stuff your things back into your backpack, her sputtering with questions and your lack of answers leaving much to be desired.
but as you exit the building, you shrug your coat as it starts to pour and the dark sky flashes for a moment. you rush in your walking to get to the dorms as soon as possible. just your luck that your dorm is on the other side of the campus. its still about five minutes before you bang on your dorm room. the music blasting on the other side silences as your roommate opens the door, his mouth drops into a round circle and you stare at his chest as you push past him.
“where the hell have you been? it’s barely been pouring!” he sounds off like a rattled hen but you head straight to your room, dumping your backpack and coat on your bed. without an answer, he follows you but any questions he has dries in his mouth as he watches you dig in your closet. pulling a ratty tee shirt and shorts you shrug your soaked shirt over your head.
will has to force himself out of the room but it's not a second later when you come out, hair wet and skin damp when you grab onto his head of hair and pull as you drag him to his room.
throwing him onto the bed, you barely glanced at his face, seeing it already being covered in tears, hands grasping for yours as it leaves him.
you glance around his room before you see the one clean area, his nightstand and dig through that. you found not only items you knew were missing but more, underwear you thought you'd thrown away, a vibrator that you'd thought had gotten stolen by a petty friend, not an obsessive roommate.
and then throwing his closet open, you saw it balled up and thrown in the corner, your hoodie.
taking it out, you push it into will's chest. "dude, literally, what the fuck?" you go to shout at him more but he moves onto his knees, tears dripping and pouring down his cheeks, begging for you to not leave.
"i know i'm a creep, a disgusting one at that, but please don't- please don't leave me, no one's been this nice and stayed with me for this long," he begs and continues to beg as you stand at the foot of his bed, watching as he took a hold of your forearms, rubbing circles into them.
you clasp a hand over his mouth as you coo, shushing him and smoothing over his hair with your other hand.
"my dirty, little stalker doesn't want me to go, but who said i was going to let you leave?" you then pull back on his hair, relishing in the guttural moan that is ripped from his throat, attaching your lips to his neck and climbing into lap, grinding down into the growing bulge in his sweats.
he moans out your name, hands finding purchase wherever he can, gripping your hip and your shoulder, trying to thrust up and meet your hips but you move your hands to hold his hips down.
"no, no, no, good boys take what they're given, that much you've proven, will," you murmur in his ear, slowing the rolls in your hips and watching him writhe beneath you.
"be a good boy for me, huh? are you my pretty boy?" he sobs out a yes as you grind down hard on his cock, the praise going straight to his dick as you mouth bruises into his neck. sucking particularly hard his hands come and circle around your waist, his head hanging onto your shoulder.
"please, please let me-"
"oh no, baby, tonight, it's all about you," you pause, standing up and hearing that beautiful whine pulled from his throat, "your punishment for being a dirty, little whore who wanted all my things for yourself, all of me without me." he shook his head, eyes barely opening as he reaches for you, but you've gone to his nightstand and pulled out the vibrator, turning it on and off and finding it surprisingly still working. well, not that surprising.
"now, you're gonna be a good boy and let me take care of you, or you can be alone," he reaches for you, begging you not to leave him and you can't say you weren't that affected.
something about this tall, greasy simp of a man, who stole your things and wears your old hoodie, begging for you not to go, it just settled nicely in the bottom of your stomach.
you weren't denying you were absolutely soaked by now, shoving your shorts off.
"please, i'll- your good boy, be so good for you-" he cuts himself off as you climb back to straddle his lap, this time rolling your hips once before you turn your vibrator on.
"good, so good for me," you hum as you place the vibrator between your panty-clad folds and his sweatpants-covered-cock. the vibrations sent you to a different plane as you grind into him, listening to the way he cried and the way his legs trembled.
you could tell the next moment, he was about to cum and well, you can't have that, not so soon. "ah, ah, ah," you breathe out, taking the vibe away as you lean back and away from his dick.
he lurched forward and his legs shake again as he's denied an orgasm, he cries out and into your neck.
"is my baby ready for ten more of these?" you ask him and his eyes snap wide open, meeting yours and when a moment passes and you press the vibe back against his dick, he whines.
you weren't kidding about before, it's been about an hour, you think, and he's buried his face in a pillow, crying from the over-stimulation and from not cumming.
you, yourself, have occupied your time with stretching yourself out, three fingers buried deep into your pussy and the sounds coming from it has will peeking out from the pillow, eyes sparkling with that crying glow.
taking your fingers out, and sticking them into his mouth, you move yourself over his lap, taking his cock in your hand as you rub it in between your folds. moaning, you move away as his hips jerk upwards, him biting and crying into his fist.
"my pretty baby, doing so well for me, gonna let me make you feel good? you gonna let me make you cum?" will nods his head and lets out the loudest moan you heard that day when you sink down on his cock.
buried to the hilt, he twitches inside you, and he's begging to cum, "'m gonna, 'm gonna cum, please, plea- need to, i need to cum in you," he begs and who are you to deny your pretty boy that?
"cum for me baby," you say, out of breath as you bounce on his cock, reveling in the slick sounds coming from between y'all. he does cum, hips thrusting upwards to bury himself in you, and you let him. but when you know he's all spent, you start to bounce on his cock, him crying from the over-sensitivity.
"just- just let me cum," you breathe out, balancing yourself with his shoulder and one hand rubbing circles into your clit, moans coming from your mouth as sobs leaves will's.
"oh- oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cry out, squeezing around will and falling on top of his chest.
breathing together, you let yourself have this moment before you get up and moves towards the bathroom. you hear him calling out for you as you grab a damp towel, some water, and a dry towel.
"did you think i was going to leave you, baby?" you ask, mostly not expecting an answer but turning to him as you run the damp cloth over his face and neck, he bit his lip.
"a little bit, yeah."
"well, don't think about that again, because as much as you're weird and steal my shit, you're still important to me," you tell me, "you're my pretty boy and you're going to stay that way."
when you finished cleaning him up and then cleaned yourself, you take the spot next to him and pull the covers over you two.
he leans into your side, pulling you into him, trying to get closer than close.
"you promise?"
you smile to yourself, thinking about having him all to yourself, "i promise."
#simpbur#simpbur smut#simpbur x reader#k: praise#k: overstim#k: dacryphilia#k: dry humping#tw: afab#this just feels like crap but i have not been able to write anything else#really sorry
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