#chilhood

[g0thnico]

Day 3: childhood friends

Day 2: mermaid/merman

Day 1: vampire

[frogmuse]

[keppy0]

Anthony,Molly and Henr0in(their childhood)

The point is that the children saw something that they couldn’t see.

[mofromgaza]

Halloween ! 🎃

You celebrate the horror and we live in it ☠️💀!

🆘🆘 I appeal to your humanity 🚨🚨

Engage with our story and share it

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[canarias-stuff]

Phases of Love / Kuroo Tetsurou X Fem! Reader - (Chapter 1)

SUMMARY:

A rooster.

No, a baby chick for now.

That was your first impression of Kuroo Tetsurou, or at least your first impression of him when you looked at his bed head hair.

...

Or a story of how Fem!reader and Kuroo meets, grow up together and eventually fall in love.

Author's note: So, this is my first story for Haikyuu! I just watched all seasons (and unfortunally I didn't watch the movie TT---TT), and even if I love the Karasuno boys, I just fell for the Nekoma team!>/////< So of course I had to write something, and why not for Kuroo? He IS the type of character that I like so well...^^'' Anyway, I hope that you enjoy the first chapter!^^ Also, english is not my native language, and I don't have a beta reader, so I'm sorry for possible grammar errors!^^''

Tags: Romance; Eventual romance; Slow Burn; cross posted Ao3.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Chapter 1: First Impression

You were 8 when a dark haired boy moved to the neighborhood, not that you really got to see him as soon as he moved there (Kenma was the one who describe the new child to you), but Kenma’s family seemed to know the Kuroo’s, and since the boys were close in age, they were forced by their families to spend time together, to be friends.

“So…” You said from your seat in Kenma’s bed, fingers pressing different buttons of the joystick, not really knowing what one does. “Are you friends?”

“Hum…” The stoic face of the younger boy didn’t change. “I don’t know.”

“Why?” You continued asking, eyes staring at the game playing on the TV. Kenma was winning again. “Don’t you play games or talk?”

“Not really.” He answered again. “He comes here twice a week, but he doesn’t say anything.”

You arched an eyebrow at the same time that the game says “game over”.

“You lost again (y/n).” He pointed out.

“I know. I can’t beat you in games, Kenma.” You say, putting the joystick beside you. “Maybe he is shy.”

This time the boy turns to look at you.

“I mean, he arrived here like…3 weeks ago? He probably doesn't know how to make friends again?” You pondered, fingers under your chin, a pensive expression on your face.

“And what do you want me to do?” Kenma asked frowning. “I’m not good at it either...”

You smiled at him and patted his head.

“You are smart, I know that you are going to figure out something.”

…

The next time that Kuroo comes to visit, Kenma is playing video games, and the other boy sits on the floor reading a manga.

“You are smart, I know that you are going to figure out something.”

Your voice resonates in his head, and the dark brown haired boy’s brain tries really hard to think of a solution.

Nothing but games comes to him. So be it.

“Do you…” Kenma starts, and Kuroo turns his head to stare at the other boy. “...want to play something?”

Hazel eyes brighten in a second, and Kenma is slightly taken aback by the sudden change. Kuroo leaves the room (probably leaves the house judging by the slam of the front door) and comes back a few minutes later with a ball. A volley ball.

“I meant…video games…” He muttered before Kuroo grabbed his arm and dragged him somewhere to play volleyball.

…

Later, that same day, you come to see Kenma to bring a piece of the apple pie that you made together with your mom, just to find him face planted on the pillow instead of playing video games.

“Are you okay?!”

He doesn’t say a word at first, but slowly he gets up and sits on the bed, eyes glaring at you.

“What?” You ask.

“I will never hear you ever again.” He states.

“What are you talking about, Kenma?” And really, you are confused.

“I played with Kuroo today.”

“Really?!” You were excited at the news. “That’s really good! You made a friend!”

And just for a second the boy stops himself, pondering the words.

“...well…yeah? Probably?”

You laugh.

“And which video game did you play together?”

And the frown was back at his face.

“What’s wrong?!”

“...we went outside…” And that really surprised you. “...and played volleyball.”

And this time you laughed until tears were leaving your eyes and your stomach hurt. You really wanted to meet this Kuroo Tetsurou now.

…

“Kenma!” Someone yelled, footsteps approaching the bedroom. You saw Kenma flinch, but he didn’t stop playing, so you just turned your head to look at the bedroom’s door, waiting for the moment that it would be open. “Kenma! Let’s play vol…”

He stopped in the middle of the sentence, hazel eyes staring at you, and you stared back, because…

A rooster.

No, a baby chick for now.

That was your first impression of Kuroo Tetsurou, or at least your first impression of him when you looked at his bed head hair.

So cute!

“You must be Kuroo Tetsurou-kun!” He nodded and you smiled. “Nice to meet you! I’m (l/n) (y/n)!”

Ao3 Link

[actually-alice-orchid]

some of you guys didnt have your dad tell you "dont tell people we have how to train your dragon on dvd or the police will come take it cause its pirated" and it shows

[archiveworldthings]

Cristiano Childhood photos

[bubblegumb1tch111]

Isn't it funny?, No matter how much I miss you,

You and I will never see each other again...

[minhaestigma]

why is always "hes never wanted to be a father" and never "shes never asked to be born"

[donbasoliya]

[eyeofthebrainstorm]

When I was a kid I honestly thought the moon and the bear from the big blue house were a couple. But she was busy all day working (being the moon in some other part of the world) so they could only be together when it was night on the side of the planet where the big blue house was. But still they were happy like that and she would ask about his day and they could spend the night together and it was nice and they love each other. I was kinda sad that they had to work it out that way (forever, they had no choice since the moon can't just ... Retire) but it was nice to see that when someone cares about someone else they can find a way to make it work.

[asarajaa]

Not mine, but theirs

I’m the daughter of an emigrant woman— I am an emigrant and that means that if my birth place was a safe place, I wouldn’t be where I am right now.

I’m the daughter of an emigrant mother, and that means that my mother left all she has ever known to the chance—the possibility— of a better future for me.

I’m the product of an abusive and toxic relationship, the heir of a lineage that all has ever known is pain and suffering.

I come from people who brushed their teeth with salt because they couldn’t afford toothpaste, I come from a small room for 3 people with only 2 beds and a small wardrobe.

I’m the last hope, the last chance, to a better life—to a better ending for them.

Everyone depends on me. I’m the one who is receiving the result of a lifetime of work and I can't fail. How could I? When I know that my mother's entire life is made up of my achievements and my failures?

I’m this ambitious because I’m one of the few that had a chance—an opportunity, to have proper studies and a decent life.

I’m not rich but I’m not poor either. I’ve never slept on the floor instead of a bed but I’ve been hungry and gone to sleep with an empty stomach for days—and still, I known people that had or has a worse situation than mine.

My life isn’t mine, it’s theirs. Sometimes I wanna run away, forget about everything and everyone but I can’t. My brother already stole that chance from me

He left. He didn’t look back and didn’t give a second thought before signing the papers of an apartment in another city in the other side of the country. He decided to be free, to study his passion (music) and stopped caring.

But deep down I know that the only reason he got away with it it’s because I am. I’m still capable, I’m still there, I’m still worth the investment.

That bastard. He got out thanks to me, they let him go because they had a spare. I’m paying for his freedom, my life for his and the worst part is that I’m willing to do it again if that means his happiness.

I’m going down a path I don’t even know if I like because I owe it. I owe it to them, to their work and sacrifice that has gotten me where I am today. My brain and heart are in an endless battle because my heart yearns for freedom, it yearns liberty while it mourns the paths I could’ve followed.

It mourns the lives I could’ve lived but my brain shouts in response. It shouts for pride, for payback before it screams for justice.

My time is coming, I feel it, I’m close to making the final decision that will change my life. I lay on my bed with anxiety because I know success isn’t gonna knock my window, I know I gotta sacrifice for the future children I don’t even have because I refuse to keep the cycle, I don’t even know If I can handle the pressure, I don’t wish it to them.

I gotta wake up and start planting trees today so that they can enjoy the shadows tomorrow instead of living with sunburns in their skin.

Unlike me, my brother can’t understand my mothers behavior, not even in the slightest. He is a man, he can be angry but will never experience feminine rage and thanks to that he could never understand her the way I do.

Women are related to blood and pain all of their life; when they’re born, when they grow up and when they give birth. They associate blood and pain with life itself in a way no man ever could.

I’m the heir to a legacy of hurt and angry woman. The rage of those woman who had been abused and misunderstood runs through my veins, circling around with nowhere else to go.

Pain has traveled since the start in my family and yet I’m the only one who’s ready to feel it.

It burns. It’s like a fire that eliminates any rational thinking and the only thing I can think of is revenge, a fire that runs so deep that I’m not me anymore. I am them.

I look in the mirror and admire my curly hair, thinking that those locks a generation ago where unacceptable and forced to be straightened. I admire my curves and think that even nowadays my own family accused me of asking for it and deserving it.

But then I admire my eyes. They’re filled with rage, fury and resentment— and only then I wonder if I’m any different from them, if I’m actually gonna end the cycle.

Pain and suffering are the closest things to an inheritance I’ll ever get. That and those onix eyes that scream for justice, for revenge.

[em-ber-rr]

Slow down

You're still a child

Your future can wait for now

Just enjoy your life

Can't change the world in a day or two

So for now just calm down

Take a brake

And be a kid

Stop thinking so much

And go run around

Soon you'll want to switch

From adult back to kid

You will regret all the time you wasted

Not being free and careless

You will regret not slowing down

And enjoying childhood while you still can

- E.R.

Inspired by Billy Joel's song "Vienna".

[ipaceinmypen]

Sometimes I talk to people and I realise that even though my childhood wasn’t traumatic, it wasn’t fulfilling either. I wasn’t hated, but I wasn’t loved either. I wasn’t isolated, but my parents never belonged to a community where I could grow up. My education wasn’t neglected, but I was never helped and always left to figure things out on my own. I wasn’t discouraged when it came to music and art, but I wasn’t pushed to practice and pursue it either. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t happy either. I wouldn’t want my daughter to grow up this way </3

[narus2]

Nostalgia.

Eu estou ouvindo uma playlist antiga aqui, e meu Deus, é uma sensação incrível, eu to arrepiada de nostalgia. É como jogar um jogo que marcou sua infância. Se não é mágico eu não sei o que é. Sabe, em dias ruins, essa pode ser a poção de felicidade que nós precisamos!

I'm listening to an old playlist here, and my God, it's an incredible feeling, I'm getting goosebumps with nostalgia. It's like playing a game that marked your childhood. If that's not magic, I don't know what is. You know, on bad days, this can be the potion of happiness we need!

[eljaboncitogron1943]

Alison trauma.

My Alison versión, have a trauma with cry, he can't cry for he's trauma.

(the draw is Alison from little :33) the draw is really ugly but i don't draw good...🥹💔