#even if I find it weird that there are only baby pictures when you search them up

[chainlink32]

Next birthmark ones I'm planning are a portwine stain for Scott (maybe), a slate grey one for Hank (before he becomes furry), and a couple large nevus (mole) ones for Logan and maybe Cable, (i might give him a port wine too actually)

[fairyofshampgyu]

☆ Me? Pegged?!

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship

Pairing: college bf ! beomgyu x dom ! fem reader

Warnings: pegging, soft sex, sub beomgyu, dom reader, fluff, male masturbation, mentions of porn, anal fingering, use of strap on, hand job, hand holding during sex, beomgyu cries but bc he’s emotional lolol, use of petnames ‘puppy’, ‘baby’, gendered term, reader is referred to as ‘girlfriend’ and afab, disgustingly fluffy

synopsis: your skeptical boyfriend gets pegged for the first time <3 To say the least he definitely enjoys it a lot more than he expected.

word count: 2.8k

“What? Like, in my ass?” Beomgyu, splutters eyebrows raised and asking in a hushed tone, looking cautiously left to right seemingly embarrassed. Although, you were a little confused what he was looking for, given you were both inside his dorm room…and the only people in there.

His demeanour, a total whiplash to a few moments prior when he had very proudly won the fighting game you both were playing together.

“Well, yeah in your ass.” You deadpan at him. “It’s called pegging. It’s just something I think could be fun for us to try and share together and I want to make you feel good! But it’s okay if you don’t want to-”

“No! I’ll-I can try. For you. I’ve just-I’ve never really thought of it before. It seems…intense...” Beomgyu looks down with a pout, fiddling with his thumbs, legs crossed on his bed.

“Gyu,” You cup his cheek and he leans into your touch almost instantly, looking back up at you, practically purring at the nickname and your gesture, “if you’re not comfortable with it we won’t. We don’t have to just because I want to. I just wanted to know your thoughts on it. ”

Beomgyu was always an open minded person when it came to sex, always down to try things at least once. Both of you were pretty compatible in that sense, easily bored when things were kept the same. You liked how experimental and open he was with you.

Beomgyu rubs at the back of his head and nods slowly, still looking skeptical. “I want to try it with you. I trust you. But, I just don’t think I’ll really find it that enjoyable though. I’ll think about it.”

Not that beomgyu would admit to you, but after the topic of pegging was brought up, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It made a strange feeling pool in his stomach, unsure if it was a good or bad thing. Would it even feel good? What would it feel like? It’d probably feel weird right? And the thought of being so vulnerable was a little scary. He knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about with you but it still felt a little too daunting.

To say the least, beomgyu was curious, and many nights contemplating brought him to conduct his own research. Grabbing his laptop, the only light shining in his dark room at the ungodly hours of a thursday night, he went to the only place he knew would have some sort of answers—the internet and he began sheepishly typing into the search bar.

To his surprise, he came across many dudes enthusiastically raving about it on reddit and how it completely changed their view of life—he thinks some of them were being a little bit dramatic.

He also watched a few videos, for research purposes only. He stared at his screen, mouth agape and feeling a flush creep up his neck, cheeks growing increasingly heated at what he sees. Woah. Maybe. This might actually be….

He couldn’t help imagining you doing that to him instead, mind painting vivid pictures of you, imagining your hands on his hips and breath against his neck, being handled like that. It was strangely arousing.

Suddenly beomgyu was squirming in his bed, one hand hesitantly slipping down his grey sweatpants as he bit his bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows furrowed as he began embarrassedly and frantically jerking off his now red and hard dick to the thought of you pegging him.

Faster than he thought, beomgyu was cumming heaps with a hand slapped to his mouth to stop himself from loudly moaning out your name (the college walls were very thin. He knew from experience.) and completely making a mess, soiling his sweats with a muffled whimper instead.

He lay there gasping and panting flushed, left to ponder his actions and new found revelation. It was kind of hot? Or maybe it was just a heat of the moment kind of thing. He couldn’t actually find that hot, right?

Fuck.

There wasn’t much beomgyu kept from you, usually he’d be the one to talk your ear off about the most mundane, silliest things of his day as you both cuddled closely together. However, he’d purposefully failed to mention his recent porn search history and the fact that he’s been cumming a heck of a lot faster than he’d like to admit at the thought of his girlfriend fucking him in the ass.

It’s only made him more curious about whether he’d actually like it. There was only one way to find out and that was to just see for himself. So he knew he had to bring it up with you somehow again without sounding like a crazed freak.

You were studying in the library when beomgyu approached you, textbooks spread out in front of you as you furiously typed notes on your laptop. Beomgyu leans in to peck your cheek before taking a seat beside you and you looked up, lifting your headphones from your ears. “Oh you’re studying as well?”

Beomgyu gives you an incredulous look as if it was absolutely outrageous to suggest he’d be doing that. “Um no.” He clears his throat, trying to sound as nonchalant and cool as possible, “so, uh, remember that thing we talked about?”

You furrow your brows unsure of what he was talking about, but given how incredibly embarrassed he looked, you had an inkling of what it might be and you try not to laugh, heavily amused, accidentally saying it bit too loud, “Oh you mean pegging?”

He looks around frantically, eyes wide with panic as he tries to gauge if anyone else had heard, then he hits your arm and shoves you. “You don’t have to be so loud, my god.”

You can see the tips of his cute ears going pink as he shakes his head and rolls his eyes “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to,” chuckling softly, you put your hands up in defence so he wouldn’t shove you again.

Beomgyu just narrows his eyes at you and scoffs, “Yeah, so anyway. I was just thinking, you know, maybe we should actually... give it a try? I mean, if you're still interested," he said, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “So, you’ve been thinking about it?” you teased, leaning in closer. “What changed your mind?”

"Well, I've been doing some, uh, research," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "And, maybe it doesn't sound so bad after all. I mean, I’m not saying I’m dying to try it or anything. But, you know, I’m open to the idea. I guess.”

“Sure, sure,” you say giggling into your textbook. “You guess…”

Beomgyu flicks your forehead playfully, furrowing his brows. “Shut up.”

“Oww!” You rub your forehead soothingly, “We’ll try it soon then, yeah?”

He pretends to think about it, even though his excitement is barely contained. You could practically see his tail wagging and brown puppy eyes lighting up. “Yeah, we could do that.”

Today is the day beomgyu will finally get why a bunch of dudes from reddit are so into being pegged by their girlfriends. Unfortunately for beomgyu though, he was currently stuck in class, wanting more than ever to just be in your dorm, but he had to wait.

The professor's voice drones on, the words blending into a meaningless blur as Beomgyu stole glances at the clock every few seconds. Each tick seemed to echo in his head like a countdown to freedom, and he couldn't help but let out an impatient sigh, mind racing with thoughts of what awaited him once this torturous lecture finally ended.

Meanwhile, you were finding immense amusement in Beomgyu's predicament and you couldn’t help but send him teasing texts during his class to make him even more pathetically desperate.

Beomgyu's eyes widened as he read the message, his cheeks flushing red. He bit his lip, trying to stifle a groan of frustration. He typed back quickly, fingers fumbling with the keys.

Beom🧸🎸: This is pure evil ! You’re so mean :( 😞💔😪👎

You can’t help giggling, typing back a sarcastic response.

aww what a poor puppy. You’ll just have to wait.

Beom🧸🎸: why can’t I just skip bro🧍‍♂️

You tell him he’s not allowed to skip and that he has to sit through the entirety of it just to torture him some more. Beomgyu pouts, his bottom lip sticking out in a comically exaggerated manner at the text, earning a weird look from Soobin who sat next to him.

Finally, the professor dismisses the class, and Beomgyu practically leaped out his seat, gathering his notebook and laptop and shoving it in his bag in record time. He dashes out of the lecture hall, barely acknowledging soobin’s farewell. Beomgyu’s heart racing as he practically sprinted across campus to your dorm.

When he reached your door, he knocked eagerly, breathing heavily and you swung open the door.

Without a word, Beomgyu pulled you into a passionate kiss, his hands tangling in your hair as he pressed you against the doorframe. He couldn't wait any longer; the anticipation had built up to an almost unbearable level, and now that he was finally here with you, all he wanted was to feel close to you.

You chuckled softly against his lips, teasingly pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "Someone's eager," you run a hand through his tousled hair.

Beomgyu grins, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement as he stares down at you with half lidded eyes. "Can you blame me? You’ve been torturing me!" He pouts, staring down at your lips before kissing you again.

You’ve been meticulously prepping beomgyu for god knows how long now, but you wanted to make absolute sure that he was stretched out well so you wouldn’t hurt him one bit.

His soft, breathy moans fill the room as your lubed fingers slide in and out of his cute, pink hole repeatedly. He seemed to like it so far, each gentle movement makes him cling tighter to the pink silk pillow pressed against his chest, hugging it with his eyes blissfully closed, legs spread wide as he lay on your bed.

“Do you think you’re ready, baby?”

He opens his eyes, meeting your gaze with a needy look, and cutely nods, taking a few deep breaths. “Yeah- please.. I want you noww..”

You give him a weary glance. “I don’t want to hurt you though.”

Beomgyu shakes his head softly, still hugging the pink silk pillow tightly, even if he’s a little nervous, he desperately wants to feel you. He swallows, looking directly into your eyes and whines. “I’ll be fine. pleasee”

Sighing, you step into the harness of the strap-on (you’d made sure to order the cutest and prettiest one you saw online), coating the silicone in generous amounts of lube before returning back to beomgyu on the bed.

You gently place his dainty ankles over your shoulders, kissing on his inner thighs and pretty white sock clad legs and ankles as you do so.

You can’t stop staring in awe. Heart swelling up at the sight of beomgyu, fluffy messy hair splayed around his face, long thick eyelashes kissing his rose dusted cheeks, slightly chewing at his plump bottom limp as he braces himself. He’s so precious. How fucking gorgeous this boy is.

You kiss his ankles a few more times, one hand going to his cute tummy that heaved and you slowly push the silicone cock into his now glistening from all the lube, swollen, puffy pink hole, ever so slowly easing in, inch by inch and bottoming out.

Beomgyu cries out, hiding his face instantly in his elbow and he arches his back, and mewls.

“You okay, puppy?”, you coo and gently move his arm out the way so you can look at his pretty face and parted lips, stilling your movements and softly brushing the bangs out his eyes.

Beomgyu shakily nods, trembling. “Mmh. m’ okay. You can keep going.”

Loud high pitched strangled moans escape his lips as you pick up the pace. It’s a new feeling and it takes him some time to get used to. Beomgyu was always loud and would make the prettiest moans ever anyway, but there was something so different at how he moaned right now, completely guttural and different to how they usually were. Even he was surprised, clamping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment but he just couldn’t stop the noises at all even if he tried, loud whines and whimpers continuing unabated. You loved them so much.

You watch his poor, neglected cock slap his tummy with every thrust, red and hard and dribbling beads at the head constantly. You take his dick in your hand, stroking it at the same movement and fucking him harder.

He gasps shuddering and writhing, his fingers curling into the sheets. "Oh... that feels...," he manages to say, interrupted by whines and moans, mouth in a cute ‘o’ shaped, completely dumb and fucked out by now he can barely think, and he moans your name over and over. A cascade of mewls spilling from his lips, a sweet symphony that fills the room.

You lean down to press his swollen lips with yours, moving your mouth against him so messily and needy, making out with him so intensely as you carried on fucking his hole. You’re sure you’re hitting his prostate by now.

Beomgyu disconnects from your lips to pant, a string of saliva connecting from his and your mouth and reaches his hand out to yours “Hold…” He whimpers out, eyebrows furrowed and you gladly grab his hand, intertwining your hand with his and holding hands as you peg him, anchoring him. Your other free hand still continuing your ministrations on his cock, kissing him again. It seems you’ve pegged him completely into subspace.

"gonna cum soon... I can'ttt... it's too much!” Beomgyu chokes out, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he completely shakes.

You suddenly heard choked sobs and sniffling coming from beomgyu. Alarmed, you paused for a moment, worried that maybe you had hurt him. His face was buried in the pillow, and his shoulders were trembling with each shaky breath.

“Beomgyu, are you okay?” you asked softly, your voice laced with concern. You gently eased back, not wanting to cause him any discomfort.

He turned his head to look at you, and your heart ached at the sight before you. His glossy, brown doe eyes were filled with tears, eyelashes clumped together and his bottom lip was jutting out in a pout, making him look devastatingly beautiful, tears streaming down his red cheeks and his hair tousled and damp with sweat. He was such a pretty crier.

“I-I’m okay,” voice trembling with the intensity of his feelings. “It’s just... it feels so good. I love you so much.” His tears flowed freely now, each sob wracking his body. You were surprised at how emotional beomgyu had gotten.

You lean down to kiss away his tears, cupping his hot cheeks, “You’re doing so good for me, gyu. I love you too.”

Beomgyu grasps your hand even tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he clings to you so close. His head falls back with every thrust, and he throws his head back as you continue to hit his prostate repeatedly again and again, making him go cross eyed and his jaw slack.

He spurts a copious amount of cum from his cock, making such a mess on the sheets, your hand, and his tummy, cumming so hard his vision goes blurry, and he feels dizzy, his legs shaking uncontrollably. His eyes flutter open and shut, gasping and panting heavily. You pull out and collapse beside him, both of you utterly exhausted.

Beomgyu can conclude, the guys on reddit were so right.

Beomgyu doesn’t let go of you at all afterwards, burying his face in your chest and wrapping his legs and arms around you, clinging to you like a koala contently, breath warm against your skin as you kissed the top of his head.

“I can’t feel my legs.” Beomgyu whines, “Please never mention the crying ever again okay?” He muffles out. “I have a reputation to uphold, you know. Can’t have everyone thinking I’m a crybaby.”

You chuckle, stroking and playing with his soft hair which he loves so much, humming softly at the feeling of your hands on his scalp. “I thought it was very cute.”

He doesn’t say anything and a moment of silence ensues.

“Thank you, baby.” he says gently and quietly, “I’d be eating you out so good right now if I wasn’t so exhausted.” a tired but cheeky grin spreading across his face.

Within seconds, beomgyu was out like a light, his soft snores filling the quiet room, looking so cute absolutely knocked out in your arms.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs ☹️👎🤨. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

A/n: guys im sorry if this was the shittest thing I’ve ever written. I was really trying !! But I’m Just very out of practice at writing atm 😭 im very sorry if the smut is the most messiest thing you’ve ever read, I have not proofread it at all I have no idea what I was writing. So I’m very sorry

[bloodibambiidoll]

oh god anything rafe x weird!girl makes me go FERAL 👹 as someone who is also autistic, i find sm comfort in this trope 🥺 what would rafe do if he saw our weird girl humping on a pillow whining like a little puppy ??? i think i might be into pet play sorry if this is weird and not your cup of tea to write :((

Yes yes yes yes. This is sooo them I’m obsessed. Pet play, pillow humping, choking, spit kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex. 18+MDNI!!

You’re desperately whining as you grind your hips against the silk case covering the pillow below you. The fluffy fabric is squeezed tightly between your sock covered thighs asyour bare cunt desperately searches for friction. Your cheek is pressed against the sheets as drool drips from your chin with each whimper that leaves your mouth.

Rafe has been gone for two days, he had to go on a business trip and even though he fucked you three times in a row right before he left halfway through the second day you’re desperate and needy for him. And he wasn’t going to be home for hours. You were laying in bed mindlessly scrolling on your phone with a movie in the background when you started to really miss your boyfriend.

You opened your camera roll to the album that was just all him and you couldn’t help that you felt your panties dampen as you scrolled past a video of his thick, hard, cock grasped in his large hand. It sent you down a rabbit hole. You started looking at all the dirty pictures and videos you had of the two of you and before long you were a wet, needy, mess. So much so that even moving from the bed to get one of your toys seemed like too much. So instead you threw your panties off and pulled Rafe’s big shirt over your head so you could roll your hips against his pillow.

You wanted to cum so bad but no matter how fast, or how much pressure, or what angle you tried you couldn’t seem to get yourself there. You just wanted Rafe. All you could think about is how good he feels when he slides his cock deep into your slick, messy walls and how fucking good it feels when his thick length starts to roughly pump in and out of you.

You ended up restoring to propping up your phone so you could watch a video of Rafe absolutely destroying you from the back and it helped a little. You felt yourself getting closer. The sounds of his moans and praises coming from the speakers egged you on.

“Ohhh, princess. You’re such a messy need girl, look at you.” You were so lost in your chase for release that it took you a second to process that Rafe was actually in the room with you.

Only when you heard his footsteps approaching you did your eyes travel upwards to look at him. He stops at the side of the bed and his large hand reaches up to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb running across the drool on your chin. Your grinding on the pillow doesn’t let up as you nuzzle your face against his palm and take his thumb into your mouth, humming around it.

“Just my needy little pet, huh? Couldn’t wait for daddy.” Rafe tuts as his eyes drink in the sight before him. Your phone propped up with the video of the two of you playing. The way your ass giggles with each thrust of your hips, those little white thigh highs that hug the meat of your thighs deliciously and that glazed over fucked out look you’re giving him makes him feel like he could cum just looking at you.

“Can’t cum.” You pull your head back slightly so his finger falls from your mouth, a string of spit still connecting the digit and your lips. “Need you.”

“Yeah? You need me baby? Need me so bad you resorted to humping my pillow like a pathetic little puppy?” Rafe mock pouts at you as he roughly grips onto your hips so he can flip you onto your back.

You watch as he throws his shirt over his head and makes quick work of his button and zipper, pushing his pants down enough for his cock to spring free. He grabs onto your ankles to pull you to the edge of the bed before spreading your legs open wide for him.

“Look at this messy fuckin’ cunt. All desperate and needy for me.” He runs his fingers through your slippery folds before bringing them to his cock, using your juices as lube.

“Please daddy, please.” You whine and wiggle your hips as your pussy clenches around nothing, begging to be filled. Rafe lines himself up with your entrance and slams balls deep into you in one thrust. He starts fucking into you at a brutal pace that has your feeling like you’re going to cum already. “Oh fuuuckk, yes, yes, yes.”

“Yeah, that’s it, take this fuckin’ dick like a good little pet.” Rafe’s hand grips onto your throat and that’s all it takes to have you tumbling into an earth shattering orgasm. Your pussy flutters around him as your nails claw into his back, your body tensing underneath him.

“Oh god, oh fuck, daddy yes, fuck.” He fucks you through it and doesn’t let up, bullying your walls with his cock until you cum for him again and again. All while the video of him fucking you drones on in the background.

“So fuckin’ sexy baby, creaming all over me. Gonna fuck you full of my cum. You want it?” His grip on your throat tightens as his continues to pound into you.

“Yeah, give it to me, fill me up.” You open your mouth and stick out your tongue and Rafe knows what you want. He leans down to spit onto your pink muscle and it sends you both over the edge. His cock twitching inside you as your pussy milks him for all he’s worth.

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

[monsterheart-lionheart]

Can we please talk about the relationship between Fink and Roz?? 🥹🥹🥹

The Wild Robot spoilers ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Thinking about how naturally and instantly Roz and Fink took to one another. They meet under the most tense circumstances, but soon after, they become an ordered pair. I love how dedicated they both become to raising baby Brightbill. There’s nothing in it for Fink except for being part of a family, and you can tell he really enjoys it even if he never outright says it. He’s deeply sensitive and loving and maybe he hates it about himself, thinks he’s weak for it, but it’s true. Roz sees right through his nonchalant exterior. She understands him better than anyone else.

They raised a kid together and they will always be bonded for it. Only they know how much work it takes to raise a runt. They know the rejection inflicted on them by society, and they constantly fight nature that tries to kill their son like it does with any unfit creature. I’m so warm for the soft moments of concern shared between two parents; “He’s never gonna learn if he doesn’t get out there, Roz,” and, “You can’t be up there with him / then we’ll find someone who can” and they go together, in search of a flight instructor for their boy. :,) And how they both actively involve themselves in his flight training. Carving his ‘baby pictures’ into wood and displaying them by his nest. Quiet conversations like “Things still weird between you two? / Yep, still weird.” Telling him stories about the ‘beautiful robot’ that fell from space. I just… maybe it’s the mommy AND daddy issues in me, but seeing two parents fight for their disabled coded kid makes me feel so tender.

I was so soft during the ‘how do you know if you love someone?’ scene because you see it in his eyes that he does know, because after all this time he realizes he’s come to love her. He wants her to say it. He wants to say it but he has internalized that when he loves something, it never stays. Despite this, we can see at the end of the movie when he’s telling the animals a story just how much he admired her for not only bailing him out of his chronic loneliness, but for everything she did for the island. He’s the main one that keeps Roz’s memory alive after she leaves.

Hopefully in the sequel, we get an ‘I love you’ scene between these two. It’s wholly deserved. I want to be upset that we didn’t get it in the film, but I’ve come to feel that the absence of it is somehow even more poignant. Some things are just obvious and don’t need to be outright said, however, I think hearing it would heal some of Fink’s negative internalized beliefs that came from his childhood.

[missmeinyourbones]

L, pro athlete atsumu and reader for "the only kind of girl they see is a one night or a wife" has me THINKING

ONE NIGHT OR A WIFE (a. miya)

a/n: pro athlete atsumu, implied woman identifying reader -> slight talks of womanhood and slut-shaming, atsumu is trying so hard he has the spirit he’s just ken

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

When the front door clicks behind you,  you're greeted with the back of a messy blonde mop peeking from above the lip of the couch. Atsumu doesn't have to turn around to know it's you coming through the door, but you don't even give him a chance to guess with the immediate interrogation flying from your lips.

"Why are we trending on Twitter?"

Amused, Atsumu turns around to catch a glimpse of your panicked face before he smirks, turning around and redirecting his attention back to the television.

"Oh, they think I proposed to you again."

His words oddly bring a wave of comfort over you, and when you exhale and plop down on the cushion next to his sprawled-out limbs, he lets his hand gently run through your frizzy hair.

And you don't pretend to ignore how it's weird that this calms you—that enough people on the internet typed and searched and chatted about the two of you to get it trending. How many people need to talk about something for it to trend worldwide? You think about googling it, but that's a headache waiting to happen.

Instead, you slump into his touch and try to keep your tone humorous when you ask, "On what grounds this time?"

Atsumu is now far from affected by the newlywed allegation, as this isn't the first (or second) time the media thinks he's popped the question to you. You always feel a bit warm when remembering the first time the rumor spiraled. How flustered he was, how he couldn’t meet your eye when opening the app for weeks, how it led to your first actual conversation about a future together. 

Now immune to the gossip, he casually fishes for his phone in his sweatpants and lazily pulls up a paparazzi photo of the two of you leaving dinner a few nights ago.

"Here," he hands the screen to you, borderline yawning. “This picture from the other night,” he has the audacity to point knowingly, like it’s common sense when he says, "left hand is hidden in yer jacket pocket."

You guess he is right, your left hand is tucked away into your coat in the photo, but that's because it's almost winter, and you're human, despite what some may argue.

The photo itself isn't even anything crazy—a candid shot of the two of you walking to the car. Atsumu's hand is on your back, seemingly guiding you as you walk along the curb. Your right hand rests on your purse, and your left apparently hides a flashy diamond ring in the suede of your pocket.

Atsumu hears you scoff at the stupidity, "So naturally that means I'm your wife now?"

He smiles and scratches your head with loving fingers.

"Yup," he pops the last part of the word before looking over to you with a grin. "Apparently the rock was so big, it had to be hidden in fear of blindin' the paparazzi."

He’s teasing, it’s lighthearted, but your eyes don't leave the photo when you softly furrow your brow.

"Why do they keep assuming we're engaged?" you lowly mumble, to him or yourself, Atsumu doesn't know, but he hears it all the same. Your voice almost wavers when you weakly exhale, "This is like the fourth time."

Carefully, as if you’re suddenly made of glass, Atsumu pulls the phone from your grasp, and you don't put up a fight when he easily swipes it and shimmies it back into his pocket.

"Dunno baby,” his voice whispers as his hand finds your shoulder. “People like to talk. I can't even begin to name the craziest rumors I've heard about me."

You hum to let him know you're listening, but when you don't elaborate much more than that, Atsumu knows something isn't quite right.

Not one to let his thoughts spiral, he thinks for all about two seconds before deciding that he’s getting to the bottom of this.

He tries to act like a normal person, stretching his arms and casually asking, "Does it bother you or somethin’?"

You're quiet for a moment like you're thinking extra hard about what to say. And when you do take a deep inhale and open your mouth, Atsumu feels a bit queasy.

"In a way," is all you allow to come out.

In a way? Atsumu doesn't know what to do with that. That could mean a million things. In what way? A good one? A terrible one? A way that makes you mad at him, at the world, at yourself? He needs more from you, but he’s too afraid to ask. 

You think a part of you breaks when his big brown eyes water a bit, but the tears are quickly blinked away through long lashes when he shakes his head.

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way."

You shift to sit up on your knees a bit, gently touching his jaw that's clenched to the touch. "Hey, hey no,” you watch him tilt his sour face away from you when you coo, “Not like that, don't apologize."

With the slightest pressure on his cheek, you're able to get him to face you again, where you're met with a grouchy pout and some slight hostility. 

You feel his jaw twitch and unclench when you place a delicate kiss on the carved bone. Your voice is soft, cautious when it rises to elaborate.

"People thinking we're married isn't what bothers me," you gently breathe. "We've talked about it, right? We're just not ready yet."

True, he thinks, logic returning to his clouded thoughts. Atsumu nods at your words, though his eyebrows are still downturned with stress.

"Right. So what does bother ya about it?"

He watches you open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find the right way to say the right words, but there really isn't a tailored combination for the sticky conversation at hand. He almost thinks you give up until your hand tenderly rubs his stiff neck and your voice comes out barely a whisper.

"It can be tough sometimes," your voice wavers with uncertainty, "y'know, being a woman associated with someone like you."

Atsumu turns his head to you in confusion, but he doesn't say anything. Because he trusts you—he might not understand, but he trusts that you do, that you're aware of something he might not be, and that you can explain it in a way he might be able to grasp.

He watches you shy in the slightest, struggling in silence with your tongue.

"I'm either slut shamed for being someone just fucking you or written off as your property. There's never really an in-between, y’know?" you choose to shrug. 

Atsumu shoots you a sympathetic tight-lipped smile because though he'd never agree, he's not stupid. He knows what people can say about you, sees the headlines and hashtags every now and then.

"Y'know," his voice comes uncharacteristically soft, "one time I read that I flunked out of high school."

Your eyebrows raise at the turn in conversation, "Did you?"

"No," he scoffs. "Wasn't a nerd or anythin' but I graduated like everybody else."

You hum in thought at his confession, but it doesn’t seem to get his point across so he continues. "One said I was on steroids, another said pills."

He takes a small amount of pride in the way your frown slightly quirks up at the corners.

"Please,” you huff out a breathy scoff, “you pout like a baby when you get your blood drawn and can barely keep up with your daily vitamins."

He fights off a smile, ignoring the teasing and resting his head on yours as he goes on.

"My favorite was that one theory that me and 'Samu switch lives regularly. Sometimes when I look a little pudgy, they claim it's him with bleached hair, so we can both live out the Olympic dream."

You actually laugh at that, a real one, and Astumu thinks the sound itself could make flowers bloom and storm clouds disperse.

"Well that one can't be true, you can't cook for shit," he hears you mumble against his neck. 

"Hey now," he gently smacks your thigh at your fresh words. "The point is that people say things all the damn time and I know it's not really the same as what they say about you, but..."

His tongue falters at the touchy subject, a hill he knows he’ll never conquer but is willing to die trying to defend you on.

He thinks for a moment before saying with certainty, "But we both know what's true and what isn't, right?"

You angle your neck to look up at him with sarcasm. "And what's true? That you're a healthy high school graduate with a twin brother who doesn't play Parent Trap with you?"

"What's true," he whines a bit, flicking your forehead before placing a small kiss on it, "is that I love you, and I'm absolutely marryin' you, just when the time is right."

You melt, both at his touch and his words, and for once in his life, Atsumu knows he's said the right thing when he feels you lean onto him a bit more. He takes on the comfortable weight like an Olympic medal, one he’d proudly wear everywhere if he could.

And as Atsumu goes on and on, your night gets that much better, and the silly rumor from some stupid tabloid doesn’t seem nearly as important as it did when you first got home.

"And yer ring is gonna be bigger than whatever the paparazzi imagined. And they'll be pissed when they find out we eloped and they missed the ceremony pics. And when we actually trend on Twitter for the right reason—"

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

(go to main masterlist)

DEAN WINCHESTER

[0.8k] wake me up before you go to bed : dean comes home to find a note from you taped by the bed.

[1.3k] touch : the first three times dean touched you.

[2.3k] photographs : when dean goes to hell, you realize you have almost no pictures of him. when he comes back, you take pictures every chance you get.

[3.0k] photographs (pt.2) : when dean disappears after killing dick, you're glad you took so many photos.

[1.8k] i lost my y/n : based on s15e13; when another sam and dean pop into the bunker, you learn how that dean lost his version of you.

[3.5k] facetime : you and dean facetime whenever he goes on a hunt, but things go south when he and sam are miles away.

[1.8k] hitched before the pit : it started when the djinn made dean realize he was in love with you and ends with you holding your dead husband in your arms.

[1.7k] another classic rock fan : a broken jukebox leads dean to a woman who's so much like him that she sweeps him off his feet.

[2.0k] sick of missing you : dean thought he had to let you go, but now he’s so sick of missing you.

[0.6k] love language : you’ve never said it, neither has he…is that weird?

[1.1k] too hot to argue : dean’s mad you were reckless during a hunt, but your lips just look so damn kissable!

[1.1k] lost comfort : dean hurt you when he was a demon, now it’s hard to sleep next to him.

[2.7k] showed me : dean helps you up your flirting game, but there’s really only one set of eyes you want on you.

[0.9k] birthday pie : you celebrate his birthday even when he’s gone.

[0.4k] privilege : a (belated) birthday drabble

[2.1k] too many beds : you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again.

[1.9k] comfort crowd : dean just needs you next to him.

[1.9k] poems : dean searches your room when you’re missing, and the love letters he finds break his heart.

[4.0k] he’s not a machine : when dean collapses from exhaustion, it takes everything in you not to beat the shit outta john.

CASTIEL

[1.5k] birth plan : you're pregnant with castiel's baby...or is it babies?

[tatsumessy]

can I request a nagi x reader, the reader is sae and rin's little sister, like imagine there is a blue lock for female group for womans football world cup how will they react if there is something between the reader and nagi, noticing nagi changes when he see's their sister like hes becoming more alive, motivated and blushing when shes around, murmuring the word "pretty" when he sees her good for his team mates to hear

A/n: This is so cute wtf, poor baby Nagi just has a crush on a certain itoshi sibling

The first time Nagi saw you was at the end of the blue lock training, you were waiting outside for Rin to come out. He was walking alongside Reo when he heard a light voice calling out for Rin.

“Rin! Hurry up, I wanna go see Sae!! He’s only here for a few days.” You shouted punching Rin in the arm for purposely walking slow when you mentioned your older brothers name.

Nagi didn’t even realize that he was staring at you until Reo got his attention. “Yo Nagi, whatcha starin at?” He asked leaning over to look, “who’s that?” Nagi asked glancing over at the peeping Reo then back over to you. At this point you and Rin were long gone but he was staring at the parking spot your expensive vehicle was parked.

“That’s Itoshi Y/n, she’s from the women’s blue lock sector.” Nagi let out a satisfied hm and let you linger in the back of his mind for the remainder of his weekend trip home. Atleast he though he did, usually when he’s home he’d play games or practice if needed but for some reason his mind kept going back to you.

Your beautiful teal eyes the way they complimented your long bottom lashes. It’s weird how he never noticed that beauty flaw on Rin until now. Your smile and voice was so captivating that the whole weekend he searched up videos, pictures, articles, anything he could find that involved you.

The only reason the blue lock participants had this weekend trip home was a mini break before the blue lock men and women’s collaboration event. This event was going to last for one week, Nagi was ecstatic. This meant he got to see you play in real life, he might play against you or he might play with you. Whatever it was made him look forward to playing more than he’s used too.

The first day was starting and as Nagi and Isagi walked into their assigned fields together he noticed you sitting on the ground stretching with Rin. Thank you Isagi being a friendly chatter box the two of them made their was over right when the two of you stood up.

“Hi, I’m Yoichi Isagi.” Isagi said sticking his hand out to shake yours, you stood there for a second with a neutral expression before clasping both his hands in yours. “Isagi, thank you for beating my brother. This asshole needed a loss.” You responded letting his hand go and facing in Nagi’s direction.

“Hi, I’m Y/n. And you are?” You spoke placing your hand out, his hand laid close to his body starting to reach out for yours. “Nagi.” You gently placed your hand on his noticing the small blush on his cheeks, you started to get nervous so you let go placing your hands back on your hips.

After a moment of silence Ego started speaking through the intercom and that was your cue to go. You bud your goodbyes to everyone leaving a lingering glance on Nagi who was still staring at you.

You were perfect, Nagi felt like his world was complete now. He had everything he wanted besides one thing and that was you.

For the first game in their building it was your team against Rin’s team. You were confident you were going to win because you know your brother. And thanks to you being a study bunny you knew exactly who you were playing against. Just you never expected Nagi to be him, he was handsome. Pictures did him no justice, his eyes were beautiful not compared to yours obviously but he just made you feel something.

The match was going really well and when you arched back to kick the ball you failed to notice a fast approaching Rin and Isagi. To get away from the both of them instead of shooting it you kicked the ball into the air then back flipped into kicking the ball towards your teammate.

When you landed you thought you were landing on the ground but no, you landed right in Nagi’s lap straddling him. The two of you froze staring at each other, your hips pressed against his and a deep blush formed on both of your faces.

“I’m sorry Nagi. I should pay more attention to where I’m going.” Nagi held onto you while standing the both of you up. The two of you kept having embarrassing encounters with each other and the game ended with your team losing.

These small thing kept happening all week and the two of you actually ate dinner together every night. He openly expressed his interest in you and you did the same, it was quick but you felt it was right. If that made sense.

When the last day finally came the girls and guys were mixed up and you were thankfully placed on the team with your brother and Nagi. Everyone was on the field getting ready for the last game, you and Nagi were in the back of the group.

“Are you ready? This might be your last time seeing me today. Atleast for a while.” You said straightening his jersey top, he didn’t speak, all he did was stare at your lips then at your eyes. “We can make it work.” He responded leaning closer towards your face.

“The game is about to start..” you whisper fluffing out his hair trying to hide out the growing blush. “Just one kiss.” He whined wrapping his arms around your waist, everyone started walking out on the field but Nagi was holding the you against the all not letting the two of you leave.

“Fine.” He looked up at you smiling before crashing his lips onto yours, it was supposed to be quick but everytime you tried to pull away his teeth bit your bottom lip to keep you from leaving.

“Guys?” Someone said from around the corner, Nagi reluctantly let you go and the both of you walked out the tunnel towards everyone else. “Let’s go kick ass!” You shouted jumping onto Rin’s back and laughing a bit, “…pretty” Nagi said a little to loud.

Everyone froze and turned in his direction, especially Rin who completely did a 180. “You just called my little sister pretty?” “I am only a few months younger than you.” You said pulling on his ear causing the both of you to fall to the ground.

[hazybisou]

TOOTHLESS

blurb

reader x jack hughes

summary: y/n finds out through twitter that jack has lost a tooth and calls to see for herself.

a/n: IT MADE ME CACKLE HELLA HARD!! like imagine the lisp he’s gonna have 😭😭 it’s gonna be hella cute but wayyyy too fucking funny. also i js had to write this like cmon 🤣🤣

jack was away in Raleigh for the second game of round two of the stanley cup playoffs against the carolina hurricanes. you stayed home due to have finals but were still able to watch the first game.

you were finishing up homework while watching the second game, the score being 1-4, the canes winning. you finished typing up your essay when you got a text from your friend, jane.

janey boo 🙃

did you see?!!

you

see what?

janey boo 🙃

JACK LOST HIS TOOTH

you

WDYM HE LOST HIS TOOTH

janey boo 🙃

i was scrolling through tiktok and saw a picture of jack missing his front tooth to the sound bigger than the whole sky

you

BAHHHHHAHAHAHA

WAIT OMG THATS SO RUDE

poor jack

BUT LIKE IWHSHABXSJ

OMG IMA GO LOOK

janey boo 🙃

woody and mercer and jack are now the toothless trio

you

THEYRE TRIPLETS HOW CUTE

ANYWAYS BYE

you couldn’t help the little laughs and giggles that escaped. you open up twitter and search up ‘jack hughes’ and clicking on ‘latest’. you scroll down and can’t help but burst out laughing. you probably looked crazy right now but this news was too funny.

you look up and notice the game has ended, the canes winning 6-1. you decided to wait a couple minutes, knowing it would only be a matter of seconds until jack would text you, something along the lines of ‘i just got out of the arena’.

a couple of minutes later, you’re phone dinged and you saw it was jack who texted. it said ‘hey i just left and am headed back to the hotel’. you don’t respond as you immediately go and click on his contact before the phone started ringing.

“hello?”

“hey babe, just wanted to let you know that you played great tonight. m’ sorry about the loos,” you told him syntactically.

jack smiled on the other end, “thanks. i appreciate it. anyways, what were you doing?” you noticed he had a small lisp. it was cute. his words sounded like a little kindergartners.

you just smiled at the question, knowing jack would always ask about your day and how it went. “oh i was just finishing up some homework. nothing much. why?”

“just wanted to know,” jack responds. you look down at your phone and realize he’s facetiming. you slide the button and are met with the ceiling of his car. you hear the jingle of keys and rustling before he picks his phone up and his face comes in view. “hi.”

“hi.” you respond back. “whatcha doing?”

he smiled. “nothing. just gonna head to the hotel before getting to see you again.”

the smile on your face grew even bigger before you remembered why you called him so fast. “hey jack?” he perked up and hummed. “could you smile at me real quick?”

jack looked at you suspiciously before shrugging and showing you a toothy grin. you just giggled before small laughs started to come out and soon you were cackling.

jack looked confused.

by the time you were done laughing tears began to fall from how hard you were laughing. “oh jack..your tooth.” you finally told him.

he finally got it and just began to pout. “it’s not funny.” he remarked.

“just a little bit. it’s ok though.” you told him. “it’s cute. especially your lisp.”

jack’s cheeks turned pink at the comment. “stop, it’s not cute.” he still had the same pout on. you just started at him with loving eyes.

“jack, baby, it’s ok.” you cooed but he didn’t seem convinced. “you’re still the same jack it’s just you’ll be missing 2% of that smile i love so much.”

“i hate it though.” jack whined. “it makes me sound weird.”

you just stared at him. “it doesn’t matter jack, alright? i still love you and always will.”

“that helped a little.” you just laughed before continuing to talk.

“i have to go and study for that exam i have next week. just make sure you get back safely. call or text me when you’re at the hotel. i love you.”

“i love you too.” jack said back. you said your goodbyes before you hung up and went back to watching the tv. you kept laughing at the thought of jack coming home with a missing tooth.

idk if i hate or love this. but wtv. his tooth is now gone 😔😔 ALSO THE WAY LUKE COULDVE SAID MORE ABT JACKS TOOTH IF HE WANTED TO BUT KNEW JACK WOULD BEAT HIS ASS IF HE DID AND PROB TOLD HIM NOT TO SAY ANYTHING ABT IT IS JS SO FUNNY TO ME!! jack literally reminds me of a pirate with taht crusty ass heard 🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

[ohraicodoll]

so i have this stray cat that lives in my garage and she’ll bring back birds for us as a little gift and i feel like this is something red would do. obviously not birds but if she’ll see something while outside the walls that she knows tommy or the baby would like/need she’ll grab it for them. I dont think she would ever hand it to him in person tho, she would just leave it at his doorstep. lol the idea of tommy coming home and just finding random things on his porch without knowing whos leaving them is hilarious to me.

Absolutely cackling at this because yes, I've already mentioned she does this already but Joel and Ellie are use to it because of course it's Red leaving them things. But Tommy does not know that lol Red likes to leave things for people that she thinks they'll like. Hardly ever is it for her, though when she does she hides it in the downstairs room as if it's inconvenient for it to be with everyone else's stuff. But she'll find things for Ellie like cool rocks, books, art supplies. One time she even found those little stick people poseable models you use in art class. Sometimes it's just neat pictures that Ellie can use as references or hang on her wall. It's always left on her desk or the window bench, places where she'll find them but never with a note. Ellie just knows they're from Red. Joel will find tools or parts for the guitar they're fixing. Sometimes it's new shirts, a new belt, Buddy Holly and Pink Floyd cassettes, a tuning fork, a flower. They're left on his pillow and even if they enter the room together, she doesn't mention they're from her and he doesn't bring it up. He'll only kiss her neck gently and put the items in their new homes then search the downstairs room and put whatever she found for herself in their room. He hates when she tucks herself away and will always show her place is with them. Tommy does not know about Red's odd gift giving method. He's just happy she hasn't glared at him in a couple weeks and is getting more confident she won't stab him. So he's slightly concerned and weirded out when he starts finding things on his doorstep. He almost steps on a small stuffed dog when he goes to leave the house. No name or letter is left with it, but he can tell the stuffed toy has been cleaned. Next it's a new watch strap then a new knife and a freshly cleaned baby blanket. Maria is just as baffled but not as ruffled, shrugging it off and saying maybe one of the neighbors maybe left it. When he brings it up to Joel, his brother just starts to laugh his ass off.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Good morning! I was wondering if we could see Dennis's reaction to wifey telling him she was pregnant. 🤍

Good afternoon, Nonnie!!! I love looking into how Wifey told Dennis she was pregnant. Then I thought about another little moment. And out popped these thoughts:

you and Dennis are only together for about four months before his sperm and your egg become best friends

in June, you and Dennis begin seeing each other

at the neighborhood Halloween party, Mrs. Johnson points out your gigantic boobies and asks about your obvious (only to her as Dennis had no idea) pregnancy

during your gynecological appointment, the ultrasound technician shows you the little growing peanut in your belly

your first thought is fear that you weren’t ready to be a Mom yet

your second thought is that you must call Dennis

he rushes to the office, no doubt speeding across town to get to you because the only thing you told him this morning was that you had a doctor’s appointment, and now you need him to come to the office

ok, on further reflection, you can see how he could be already panicking

but when he is ushered into the room, he sees you on the exam table and rushes to your side

he immediately asks if you are okay, then asks what the doctor said after taking your hand in his

within the span of three seconds, you figure you would have had something prepared to say, but nope

you just end up blurting out, “I’m pregnant.”

you search his face for any sign of negative emotion

but you don’t find it

he only smiles teary-eyed, asking you to say it again

“I’m pregnant, Dennis.”

he studies your face, looking for any signs of how you feel

“I want to keep it.” “Will you marry me?”

you both speak at the same time, giggling at each other with tears in both of your eyes

“I want to raise this baby with you, sweetheart. I had planned out something a little better, but something told me to bring this with me.”

he fishes for something in his pocket, kneeling in front of you as you sit on the exam table, presenting the open blue velvet box to you

“I promise to make you happy with everything in me if you’ll have me, sweetheart.”

blame the hormones, but you just melt into a puddle of tears in front of this man as he proposes to you

Dennis is up off the floor in seconds, wrapping you in his arms as he kissing the top of your head

you try to speak but the words are muffled into his shirt

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“You can’t be this perfect; I just told you I’m pregnant, and we haven’t even been together for half a year. Then you propose? I can’t be that lucky.”

“Lucky, huh? Try being in an abusive marriage and having it fall apart, only to meet your soulmate two doors down. And having her love me back? Now, she’s having my baby. I’m the luckiest man in the world. Well, I will be. Once she says she’ll marry me?”

“Of course I’ll marry you, you goober.”

he wipes away your tears before taking out the ring and placing it on your finger

the nurse takes that moment to knock on the door and come back in

she sees you crying happy tears and Dennis holding your newly-adorned hand, putting her hand over her heart

“Oh my goodness, you two are so cute. I have your ultrasound pictures. When you’re ready, come out to the checkout window, and we can schedule your check-ups.”

she gives Dennis the small black-and-white photos, and he smiles down at the little blob

while you get redressed, you turn to Dennis and watch a tear fall as he puts the images in his pocket

you schedule your next appointment with the receptionist, and Dennis records it in his calendar as well, vowing to be there for every appointment

after that, he is careful with you as he helps you into the car as if you were a delicate piece of glassware

it gives you a peek into your future a bit, seeing what kind of dad he will be

OMG, this has been the cutest little peek into your life with Dennis. I swear, I feel like I created him in a lab like Weird Science. I love this man so much. I hope you enjoyed this little headcanon!!

[2knightt]

↳tell my mama that i died like a rockstar!₊˚✧

—IN WHICH, dallas is a rockstar and you’re his rockstar gf!。✦

dallas was a famous rockstar, one of the top.

his out of this world looks, his big ego, his flamboyant personality—i mean, what? was he not supposed to be a rockstar with all those qualities?

all the girls had posters of him, pictures of him in their locker, tattoos, and dated guys only because they looked like him.

but somehow—none of that made any of them interesting. all he saw were weird obsessed fans.

you were the apple of his eye, the one he made all the love songs out too, the one he’d keep backstage, the one he’d pull onto stage.

he’d run off to the side where you were standing, flash his famous grin and grab you by the wrist.

pulling you onto stage as he sings lyrics that were obviously describing you.

dallas would have a microphone in one hand while holding your hand in his other, looking you right in the eyes.

his sweat dripping off his face, the grin never leaving.

when the concert ends, you rush to the bathroom to collect yourself. you never knew he was gonna pull you onto stage, you don’t do well in front of crowds.

when you’ve calmed yourself down—you go searching for dallas.

only to find him leaning against a wall, flirting with a fan.

she was giggling, twirling her hair, batting her lashes.

dallas was bragging. you could always tell when he was. his chin was raised, his chest was puffed out, and he talked more with his hands.

you licked the inside of your cheek, annoyed.

he always does this. always.

he flirts with some bitch of a fan, trying to get you jealous.

you hated it, but he enjoyed it.

the girl seemed to notice your presence. she made eye contact with you and got timid.

she stopped twirling her hair, her body got tense, and you could tell she was trying to find an out to the conversation.

“tryna leave so soon, baby? c’mon—we just started talkin’.”

“dallas, your girlfriend.”

you could just feel the smirk on his face at the mention of you.

he knew his plan was working.

and it just angered you more.

he turned around and looked you up and down before forgetting about the girl.

he walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“where were ya?”

“shut up.”

dallas chuckles.

he keeps one arm around you as he escorts you to the limo he has ready.

he opens the door for you as you hear his fans screaming his name—paying 0 attention to his other band mates.

you get in, dallas right behind you.

you sit down, arms crossed—glaring at dallas.

he stares into your eyes before grinning.

he’d lean in closer, slightly tilting his head.

“what’s wrong, doll?”

“don’t give me that bullshit, dallas.”

you snarl, rolling your eyes.

he chuckles, grabbing your chin with his hand.

“c’mon. you know i still love you, right?”

“mhm.”

you answer, your eyes shifting away from his.

dallas leans in, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“use yer words—don’t like it when you act like this.”

he was lying.

both you and him knew that.

“i said, ‘mhm,’ is that not good enough?”

you ask, looking at him now.

he smiles before leaning in and kissing you.

he puts a hand on your cheek, grinning into the kiss.

he pulls away, staring at your lips.

“can’t be mad at me. i mean— ‘m dallas winston.”

he brags, looking over to the side.

“i think that just made me even more angry, dal.”

“oh come on, babe. you know i ain’t mean it.”

[sugaaaaaaaar]

I feel like I need to start tagging these types of posts as "Cookie run makes Sug go insane"

Anyway, what is up with the Cookie Timeline. I know they are cookies so they don't human years but for the purposes of this rant/analysis, we will be using them.

So, if Custard Cookie the III is actually related to Pure Vanilla Cookie, then that means that the fall of the Pure Vanilla kingdom happened happened about 1 generation ago (because Custard III's grandfather was already grown and had a baby according to the memories seen in Timeless Kingdom)

(Picture: Premier Custard Cream Cookie holding Custard Cookie's father as a baby)

A generation is about 20-30 years but i am going to be very lenient and say Custard the III's father was 30 when he had his son and Custard III is 10. This would mean that it had been 40 years since the Vanilla Kingdom collapsed (and less than 40 years since the Dark Flour War ended. Wow.)

That means that the Creme Republic formed and established itself in less than 40 years (assuming they spent as year or two searching for a new home). While this is rather fast, it is technically possible for that to happen.

Except it's not? Kind of? This is where it gets funky.

In Crunchy Dreams, Oyster Cookie looks back on her memories from when she was a child. When her nanny told her about the mermaid and the young sailor. This is obviously about Lord Oyster and White/Black Pearl Cookie but the thing is that they mentioned that this event happened generations ago.

Assuming Elder just means parent (basing this of Custard and Clotted Cream). That means that Lord Oyster is at the bare minimum Oyster Cookie's great grandfather

Friendly Reminder thats Oyster Cookie is canonically 40-50 years old.

Okay thanks what the fudge (pun intended)

That's about century. A century.

"But, Sugaaaaaaaar, thats just a one time special event. It's not meant to be taken so seriously, and it's probably not even canon anymore."

Okay, then, I present to you Exhibit B. The most fresh evidence we got. "A Mermaid's Tale."

This is dialgue from Part 2 of the story of "A Mermaid's Tale" titled "Captain Abalone Cookie's Dilemma"

So, at this point the Republic was not only founded, but well established enough to have Family Houses and all that jazz. While not canon, i believe it's safe to assume that Lord Oyster is meant 20-30 years old because he is old enough to be on voyages but not old enough to be considered an Elder. Considering Oyster is 40-50 and the Republic was founded within 40 years, that means that Lord Oyster is Oyster's father, uncle, or older brother at best.

You se where it gets trippy? Lord Oyster's story is framed as if it was a thing in the past but for all we know this could have happened 2 summers ago or something like that

Nothing clashes with the timeline as much as the Creme Republic does. Dark Flour war ended 40 years ago? Understandable. Hollyberry has 2 young granddaughters, Dark Cacao has one grown son and Pure Vanilla has possibly one very young grandson? A little weird but not uncommon.

Did i miss something? Am i going insane for a game with cookie politics? Find out in the next episode of dragon ballz

[redhoodfucker69]

weird thing happened on tiktok earlier. i came across a tiktok where one of those "autism moms" posted a video of her toddler daughter, hidden behind a kitchen island where we couldn't see her face, having a screaming meltdown.

she must have left her echo chamber of "autism mommies" because there were a fair amount of autistic adults telling her off. i need to make it clear: it is EXTREMELY common for autism moms to post their children having meltdowns to assure other autism moms that this is normal and "educate" people about the nature of autism.

i decided to chime in and specifically said "i am so glad i was not diagnosed as a child because of moms like you. you think she's gonna thank you in ten years for this?" seriously. i often think that maybe it's a good thing i was not diagnosed, and i was extremely to have been born when i was when the internet existed on a home computer and smartphones didn't come out until i was in middle/high school.

she actually replied to me and gave me a canned response about how her daughter, who looks like she's maybe three, idk, is grateful to be diagnosed and she's being raised to be her "best autistic self". i then reminded her that she's not responding to my initial post and she should not be posting her child's meltdowns online. she went silent for several hours, and by the time she got back to me, the audio was removed. she said she removed the audio and was sorry she upset me. i told her it wasn't about my feelings. i'm an adult. i can manage my own upsets. the point was about her child and how she will be humiliated in 10, 20 years because this is a big digital footprint and she isn't even using a nickname for her daughter, she's using her actual legal first name.

the mom actually replied with a real apology and said she's listening and learning.

i just liked the comment and disengaged, but it's kind of changed my perspective on autism moms. i think our culture has heavily normalized posting everything online to be judged by the masses. i myself am a victim of this, and when it gets to parenting, a lot of parents have blind spots. i figured she's now going to take baby steps to protect her children on the internet, bc she was actually receptive to learning.

personally, i do not believe that you should post your children on the internet in any shape or form. there's a parent i actually like on tiktok that only talks about their kids when they're doing their makeup or dying their hair. (drives me nuts that they use no gloves for vivid dyes, no brush, just rawdogging it with their hands, but hey, they're an adult, and if they want stained hands, that's their business). but i have never seen a single video or picture of their children.

but, ultimately, i genuinely think you should not post your children. for a couple of reasons. we learned with family youtubers and their comment sections that pedophiles actively search out child content and sometimes, when they feel particularly bold, engage with it beyond just watching. you never know if someone is jacking off to videos of your children. pedophiles are a minority on the internet, but they actively search out child focused content and get off to it. it's a little harder on tiktok if you stick to the fyp, not the following page, because it cycles through material you might find interesting. but, they can just stick to their following page.

another reason is about child autonomy. your digital footprint is incredibly fucking important in today's culture. you should have the choice to not have a digital footprint, or have it on your own terms, when you are old enough to manage. your parents should not be making that choice for you. they should be protecting you. ofc, i enjoy watching videos of gentle parenting, which is so incredibly important for people to start engaging in, but in the past six months, i have started making the active choice to not watch videos where you can see children's faces. there's ways of showing gentle parenting in a way that still protects you r child. you don't have to post your children. you can talk about issues your children had today, using nicknames, not their legal names, and how they walked through it with your help. you don't have to actively show them to do that.

but, in the case with this mom, i thought "okay. she took a pretty big step today to listen to autistic adults about protecting her child". she should have just deleted the video, but i'm not too pressed about it, because you can't actually see her daughter's face. so, i didn't press her on the issue. baby steps are important. people typically dig in their heels if you start outright attacking them, no matter what good points you make. and she was already under a lot of fire, so i figured whatever i said at that point would go in one ear and out the other.

i think, in general, we're getting better about raising our children. but, people still have the mindset that they're children. which is true, ofc, but i think we need to start coming at it from angle of "these are future adults, and we need to treat them the way we would treat them if they were adults, within reason". i fucking despise autism moms, but i don't fully think they need to be attacked and shamed for their choices, unless it's outright malicious abuse. they'll just double down. but we do need to figure out a better culture. a lot of these autism moms genuinely think they're acting in the best interests of their child, and yes, many of them are just raging ableists, but the majority just aren't putting enough thought to their decisions. they infantilize their children, but i think today was a little victory. she started to view her child as a future adult, not a helpless autistic child who will be completely unaware of everything around her. it's a little step. hopefully, this autism mom will speak to other autism moms, and they'll start realizing that posting their children's meltdowns on the internet, no matter the intent behind it, is not okay. prioritizing another autism mom's "reassurance" over your child's autonomy is not okay. it's just most autistic moms forget their child does have autonomy.

anyways. i just wanted to talk about that. it's not that i don't think autism moms don't deserve to be shamed. it's just that if they're humiliated en masse, odds are they will simply double down. and that doesn't actually help the autistic child they're raising. in general, if we come at people who are probably not acting maliciously, just stupidly, with compassion and sternness, they're going to realize just how fucking stupid they're being. so, i guess, the next time you see an autism mom acting a fool on the internet, recenter her attention on the child's well being. don't come for her personally. prioritize the child she's harming.

[t1oui]

my headcanons about the weasley-wood family but i try to make them coherent

(side note - if you want more info about the oc kids i gave them in this fic, you can find said info here. there will be some inconsistencies, because i've changed some info about the weasley-wood family story since then, but most info is the same.)

percy never wanted kids as a child growing up in a family with (in his opinion) far too many kids.

oliver and percy got together in fourth year, so while oliver had had a few thoughts that it would be nice to have a big family he could play quidditch with, he didn't really think much about a future where that could actually happen.

after the war, they both took a different perspective on this issue after the war orphans fund was introduced and harry was all over it.

it started with them fostering kids. they took care of a few different children. only children and groups of siblings, infants and toddlers, etc. but then they met lucy and her half brother.

lucy was two, but her infant brother was too young to have a name by the time he and lucy's parents were killed. because they felt weird just calling him the baby or lucy's brother, they nicknamed him skye after where oliver grew up.

this is really when they got attached, because how are they supposed to let go of lucy and skye after this? after giving skye a name and lucy her first broom? (yes, she was only two, but this is oliver wood we're talking about, so who's really surprised? at least percy was able to talk oliver into not letting her fly alone.)

a year after they officially adopt lucy and skye, they decide they want another kid. (it's for the charity. they're doing it for the charity.) this is how katie comes into the picture.

katie has dark hair and dark eyes and olive skin and doesn't look anything like her siblings or percy and oliver (lucy and skye, who have blonde hair and blue eyes and brown hair and green eyes respectively, both look like they could be biologically related to their parents). and this changes absolutely nothing.

katie and lucy both love quidditch - lucy lives and breathes it just like oliver does - and yet they are both truly, undeniably like percy.

katie is the one people always talk about. the girl who's most like him all the time, even though he doesn't see it (or, at least, pretends not to). the girl everyone bets will be in slytherin because she's too alike percy to be in any house other than the one he was in. she's even ultra powerful like he and oliver (and marcus and penelope) are.

lucy, meanwhile, is the daughter most people don't realize is like percy because she's so unlike him outside of home. it's not like she isn't herself outside the house, but she's much more outgoing. much more energetic and ready to pull pranks, because why be anything less when there's so much of the world to see?

but at home, everything is familiar. there's nothing new to see when she knows it like the back of her hand, and she can be calm and run on the beach and overturn rocks in search of crabs without feeling the want (or need) to put on a show. and there, at home, in her element, she's so much like percy that sometimes, he has to look away.

percy and oliver were 1/2 of the golden era marauders, and now lucy is 1/4 of the next gen marauders. percy is secretly very proud of this.

skye doesn't like quidditch, and doesn't really like talking to people at all, but he's painfully similar to oliver. almost weirdly so.

skye is a hufflepuff, but - like lucy - he was a hatstall, and like lucy, he was almost put into gryffindor. he doesn't really even understand quidditch, but he spends hours in the library pouring over strategies when his friends or sisters need him to.

skye is the one who looks like he could really be oliver's son, because even though he has green eyes and oliver has brown, their hair is the exact same shade and texture. skye is the one who gravitates to oliver's side while lucy goes to percy's, because while he loves both his parents, we look for people who are like us, don't we?

but there are also moments when skye and percy sit together reading while oliver, lucy, and katie fly above the beach. there are afternoons where oliver and lucy bake together while percy, skye, and katie play board games in the living room.

there are moments when the five of them fly together, skye clinging onto lucy from the back of her broom, because while she's the one who aimed her bludgers at him when they were little, he doesn't feel safe being off the ground with anybody else.

there are long nights when percy and oliver aren't home, out with friends or on a date, when lucy gathers skye and katie into her room and they set up beds on the floor so they can stargaze through the skylight.

all in all, their family might be different, but it's a family, and i think that's pretty cool.

[azz4me]

K.I.M J.O.O.N.G.O.O

I love him. No new news. But I fucking love him. I love that adorable little fluffy haired bastard more than words can explain, more than I can talk, more than my entire life. I use pictures because I can't find the corecct words to use most of the time and expressions are the only thing i could show. OK.

Starting from his first appearance

I CAN'T- I-😭😭😭😭😭😭😭twink I don't remember what I exactly thought of him when I first saw this, probs some lanky guy gonna solo some side bitches and save vasco buttt

this pannel

I fucking loved vasco, ok? I loved little vasco and his backstory I am a fucking sucker for gap moes BUT THEN! GOO CAME WITH THIS GOOFY ASS LINE AND I WAS SOLD. SOLD MF. Srs who wouldn't, look at that goofy ass smile, with goofy ass eyebrows, with goofy ass glasses, with goofy ass hair and then that twink ass bod. But this face fr be the I pull when I am with little kids.

I am honestly crying and dying looking at this😭😭😭😭Look at him pull some karate kid move and he is so kjgwbdvk happy and smug😭? HIS HAIR!! HIS HAIRRR💀💀IT'S FUKING GLOWING AT THE BACK LIKE BITCH HE IS MFING GLOWING anddddddd he looks so little here ahkjsgvsgvc

this. I love this. Pookie showed up for the first time and already cracked some eggs. Who wouldn't love him???? First impressions are important. And Kim Joongoo slayed it🦅🦅👄

and this is one of my fav pannels of Goo.If you understand you understand, if you don't then try harder to understand. Because LOOK at that hand, that pose? that smile? like????😭? GAWDDDDDD I WANT TO SQUEEZE HIM SO BAD AND SHAKE HIM LIKLE A MILKSHAKE👹👹👹

currently break dancing to "She's crazy but she's mine'', thanks to hamburger

ANYWAYS i still don't know if I should lable this nightmare or best dream of my life if I saw this on my dream

he still cute tho<3333 but I wouldn't dare go near him, jut a little pat on the head wouldn't hurt tho ;P

that chair was actually me ya'all, he was throwing me😋😋

proof👆

but srs I love this pannel so myuch like he is throwing chair while saying carrying knife is cheap??? mhm Such a cutie pattootie💗💗💗skhdikvckvbsh simply truly adorable you know muy baby😭😭

yes love break all his fingers, break his skull too, break him💓💓💓 how dare that thing touch you. nothing much for me to add here. Slay.

if any one of you dares to say he looks weird. I will come for your throt even tho you are correct but you will be deemed wrong because I said so. ok? lets just all agree he is stuill cute here '3'

And this. Good loard. If this didn't make you stan goo then I don't know hat else will. He looks so chill and goofy eheheheh I love him so much ❤❤ Look at him just munching on snacks while he gets 'accused' my lil meow moew <33333

You might be thinking to just not talk about this, letting it pass as PTJ's old artstyle but NO. He is Kim Joongoo and we love kim Joongoo in amy form of matter or shape. NO KIM JOONGOO PANEL SHALL GO UNLOVED UNDER MY WATCH. Comeon he looks like he might bite but I swear he doesn't. He is just a little silly that's all🥰🥰

coming on to his second appearance

OUR FASHION KING, OUR MESSIAH, OUR BABYBOY, OUR BABY ❤❤❤👄👄💟💟💟❣❣❣💞💞💞💞💞 he was born to slay, if you don't agree go argue with a wall. That long coat >.< i have never seena man wear that long coat and when I searched it, it specifically showed just for women only, baby boy is rocking with that striped socks💞💞💞

understandable I love deadpool and spiderman too<333333

That little heart could end me in less than a second. So if he did talk like how deadpool talks playfully...I am a dead man. I could not be under the influence and still think I would survive a nuclear bomb dropped right above me but this? THIS?? Neh eh I could never survive if I hear him talk like that. I would be a dead piece of meat INSTANT. Gone like the dinosaurs in an instant.

AHHHH PLEASE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AHHHHHHRFEBETNRYJN😭😭😭😭😭😭 PLEASEEEEE GODDDDDDD

i miss these type of lips not that I am saying the ones we get now are bad but these are just a whole different typr of beasts compared to now. Look at his lips, i want ti pinch it and then apply lip balm to it the wipe it off and apply lipstick on it. Look at them It's so glossy and juicy like for who did he get his lips so plump for WHORE🤨🤨??

silly goo doing silly stuff<3333

sksksksksk I love how his hair looks here. Reminds me of Donald Trump's hair or is it wig idk but I love how Goo looks here

ew.

seeing this bitch made my mood sour. I will continue the ramble later.

[shyphonics]

Salad Days, Chapter 9: Baby, Detonate for Me

(babypunk Rodrick Heffley x reader)

all chapters | playlist

I just want to give a warning for this chapter for mentions of mental health issues, antidepressants, and hospitals. This got weird and I'm sorry lol. My brain went to a dark place and I started thinking about my horrible middle school experience and the years I spent in a pit doing antidepressant roulette. This is also not any sort of anti meds/hospital propaganda, do whatever works for you :)

Anyway, this one's long and kinda sad, but I promise you it's uphill from here. These kids are gonna get their shit together.

9 to 5, they got you where they want you

There's a better life

And you think about it, don't you?

It's a rich man's game

No matter what they call it

And you spend your life putting money in his pocket

~

“Dude, are you kidding me?” Ben sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, dude! I have to work!” Rodrick insists, trying to step around him to get to the door.

“Ward worked really hard to get us this practice space, we already set up your drums, and you won't even come for just a little while? Call in sick!”

Ward crosses his arms, nodding, hurt in his eyes.

Rodrick thinks. There was a time when he would've blown off just about anything to go practice with his friends, in a real studio space. Now he's not even sure if he remembers how to play.

“All the big local bands practice there. It's, like, a little apartment building with studios! It's awesome! And we got in!” Ward frowns.

“All the big local bands?” Rodrick turns to look at him.

The guys all nod.

Rodrick sneaks around Ben wordlessly, heading towards the door and slipping out. The guys yell in protest as he walks down the hallway, but he doesn't stop. He can't face them, no matter how terrible he feels about all of this. He made this mess, and he has no idea how to fix it.

“That girl emailed you!”

Rodrick freezes. He turns around.

“That's fucking low,” He breathes, pointing towards the open door of the apartment, “Don't fuck with me like that.”

He storms off down the hallway, driving the band van across town, to the plant. He loads up his truck in anger, shoving the cases inside and slamming the door. Maybe he doesn't even want to be in the band anymore. Not with people who will toy with his emotions like that. The guys at the plant suck, but at least they don't need much more from him than “deliver the beer.”

He really does hate hanging out with them, though. He drives fast, the cans and bottles in the back rattling underneath the sound of a mix CD he hasn't listened to since high school. The radio isn't safe right now. Not when the only good station gives him a high chance of hearing you.

He stops at a red light, grunting and gripping the wheel. He didn't think his friends had that in them, to try and trick him like that. Unless they weren't… unless you really…

No. No way. You want nothing to do with him. He shakes himself out of his thoughts, driving through the green light.

He wheels his dolly into a grocery store, head down, until he hears a throat clear.

A man stands before him, holding up a picture. He looks at the picture, then the man, in total confusion.

“Do you know this girl?” The man asks.

Rodrick looks back down, the features slowly coming into view. It's you, without a doubt, but you look… different. Younger, straight laced, maybe a little dead behind the eyes. He squints in confusion, then looks up at the man.

“Why?”

“Why? It's none of your business,” He scoffs, “Do you know her? Do you know where I can find her?”

He eyes the man strangely, not liking the frantic look in his eyes. After everything he's done to you, he's not taking a chance on any weird shit like this. He’s at least not going to make anything worse. He shakes his head.

“Never seen her.” He keeps his face straight.

“Are you sure?” The man pleads.

“100%. I gotta get these cases in, ‘scuse me.” He pushes his dolly around the man.

He feels eyes on him the whole time, hunching over as he wheels into the store. He doesn't like that. He doesn't like it one bit.

Sitting in his truck after the delivery, he feels uneasy.

He sighs, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot. There’s a car right on his ass, some flashy, white BMW. He raises an eyebrow, speeding up a little.

“Just pass me, asshole.” He mumbles, turning up his music.

The white car follows him to all of his deliveries that day, and at the third one, the driver gets out. It’s the guy from the grocery store. Rodrick wants to say something, but he’s not exactly the confrontational type. He decides to just keep an eye on him, for now.

He’ll just end up on the opposite side of town from you, anyway.

~

I am the girl you know, can't look you in the eye

I am the girl you know, so sick I cannot try

I am the one you want, can't look you in the eye

I am the girl you know, I lie, and lie, and lie

I'm Miss World

Somebody kill me

Kill me, pills

No one cares, my friend

~

2 weeks. It’s officially been 2 weeks since you’ve seen Rodrick. On top of that, you and one of your best friends are not on speaking terms, and it feels like your dad gets closer to finding you every day. Not to mention that you’ve been alone, cooped up in the house all week. No bar, no radio, only a few horse calls from Mike to drop off groceries and scheme with you.

You lie back on your bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling defeated.

You should’ve known. Should’ve taken Rodrick’s whole “bad boy” schtick as the red flag that it had been. A “bad boy” schtick usually means one thing: coward. You should’ve protected yourself. You laugh, despite yourself, shaking your head. You can feel the crazy coming. It’s always preceded by feelings of rejection. And thoughts of your father. The beast comes out. You know how you are.

Feeling like this makes the memories come out. The bad ones, stored real deep, where you won’t dare dwell on your own.

You have passing memories of the first time you ever heard good music, which is kinda fun, at first.

You were 12, innocently flipping channels, when you’d landed on MTV. Hole, No Doubt, Smashing Pumpkins… whoa.

You’d been so curious, chasing the sound you’d heard that night, that you’d walked down to the mall, to the music store the next day.

“I’m looking for something… I- I saw these people on TV.” You’d looked away from the counter, embarrassed.

“How old are you?” The guy at the counter had smiled, his spiked hair huge, lime green. A thick, silver ring sat in his lip, and his jacket was covered in spikes. He looked like a dangerous disco ball.

“12,” You couldn’t meet his eyes. He’d just been so cool.

You’d left with a stack of CDs, sold on discount. The older boy had given you an ‘introduction pack’, as he’d said.

7 albums that would go on to change your life.

Misfits - Walk Among Us

Ramones - Rocket to Russia

Black Flag - Everything Went Black

Dead Kennedys - Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables

Bad Brains - Bad Brains

Bikini Kill - Revolution Girl Style Now!

The Dead Milkmen - Big Lizard In My Backyard

The music reached you, where nothing else had reached you before.

Especially the basslines- you’d waited ages on dial-up internet to find out who the bassists were. Jerry Only, Dee Dee Ramone, Chuck Dukowski, Klaus Fluoride, Darryl Jenifer, Kathi Wilcox, and Dave Blood, your new heroes.

You laugh a little painfully, remembering the candle you’d lit earlier this year, to commemorate the one year anniversary of Dave Blood’s death. You and Mike had cried at the bar together, listening to surfy basslines like they were funeral hymns.

That summer, you’d begged your parents to let you into a music program.

They’d assumed it would be something classy, you playing chamber music on a violin, but it was a rock band program. Sure, you’d lied. Who cares?

You’d had the time of your life, all decked out in prop leather jackets and Halloween eyeliner. Learning how to play, how to be a band. Togetherness. It had only been a two week program, but you bonded with those guys more than any kid you’d ever met in school.

Your music teacher, Frankie, had awoken you to your own power for the first time.

You were already learning bass- you’d learned all the songs your tween rock band had decided on- but he’d wanted you to be the singer, too. No one else wanted to do it.

He’d placed a folding chair in front of you.

Yell at the chair. He’d said, like it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

I’m sorry, what?

Yell at the chair.

You’d yelled, half heartedly, looking to Frankie for approval.

He’d looked at you, deadpan.

C’mon. I know you can do better than that, Don’t look at me! Scream! You hear me? Scream like a girl!

You yelled, and screamed, as Frankie urged you to think about anything that made you angry.

You’d thought about your recent debilitating period cramps, your mother’s magazine fad diet obsession, and both of your parents’ lament that they could never have another child. As if to insinuate they’d had one shot with you, and you’d better be good, dammit.

You’d yelled until you could completely nail a song that you’d suggested to the group- California Uber Alles. Eerie wails left you until it was like the spirit of Jello Biafra was possessing you himself.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh…

The final performance came, and your parents looked horrified, a stark contrast to the supportive classic rock dads and lowrider moms, cheering from the audience.

You’d taken center stage, a too-big Fender bass positioned on your hips, and said to the audience, “We! Are! Ne’er Do Wells!”

You’d looked across the stage, the lights bright in your eyes, and god. For the first time in your life, you’d felt like you had some sense of control over yourself. You felt like you had power. The set had been incredible- you’d yelled, and jumped around, even dramatically dropped to your knees, scraping yourself up on the splintery, old wood of the stage. People went crazy for it- well, except for your parents. Your bandmates’ parents and Frankie more than made it up to you. You’d had stars in your eyes. Finally, a beam of hope.

That’s what I wanna do. You’d repeated, over and over, that’s what I wanna do when I grow up.

You were 13 years old the first time you were put on antidepressants.

“I don't know. She's angry, she doesn't listen,” Your mom says, rolling her eyes, “Fix her.”

The doctor doesn't even look up.

He's not even a psychiatrist.

“We can start her on 75mgs of Zoloft,” he scribbles on a sheet, “Standard practice for a girl her age. I'll send it in.”

It's just like that. You're not involved. No one wants to know how you feel.

You think maybe it won't be so bad, but the first dose hits you like a truck. You stand from the couch, and a blast of vertigo sends you flying sideways to the floor.

Your mom looks down at you.

“I guess you can't go to your bass lessons.”

You panic. No, no, no. That's all you have left. Frankie had taken a liking to you, and gave you lessons for free. He’d known your parents hated the music thing, and he took pity on you. Your one safe place.

“No, I can go!”

You stand. You fall. Your mom brings you to your room.

“You should rest.” She closes the door.

You sit on your bed, knees to your chest. You look at the walls, a chaotic collage of magazine cutouts and posters, and are comforted, slightly. Dead Kennedys; 3 regular looking guys, and a screaming, shirtless Jello Biafra. Bikini Kill, solemn in sepia, with dark lipstick and baby tees. Suicidal Tendencies, sitting on a curb in their flannels and Dickies, hat bills flipped up. You try to slow your breathing, your head feeling cloudier and cloudier as a wave of nausea hits. You roll onto your side, coming face to face with a goofy, shirtless pinup of 80s Danzig, trying to look tough. It always makes you laugh. This time, all you can manage is a faint smile. Sleep eventually finds you.

The pills just make everything worse.

You're a zombie, except for brief outbursts of rage. Nearly always directed at your father, but sometimes just when you're alone.

This only angers him more, and your dose is upped.

You float through school, numb and confused, barely even noticing when they make you switch schools.

It's a private school, a tiny series of buildings on the outskirts of town.

Your dad insists such a small school will make you focus, and thrive. It’s some kind of experimental learning style.

All it gets you is the attention of the principal, a meek, older hippie named Dina.

She looks sweet, but soon- you find she's your worst enemy.

Every little thing you do is under scrutiny. She pulls you aside in the short hallway, nearly every day, demanding to know what you'd lied about.

“I haven't lied about anything!”

“That's not what your dad told me.”

She keeps you there for whole class periods. Your grades suffer. Your dad is pissed.

She slowly breaks you down, more and more as months go by. Even when you think things have been going well- you've been pretending to be happy, talking to people, engaging in class- it doesn't stop. She's relentless.

Eventually, a breaking point comes.

You've been working on oral reports, you've spent months on them. You're a nervous wreck. Sitting at your desk fidgeting and twitching. You can feel the bags under your eyes, and your dry lips are chewed to the point of bleeding.

Dina makes you go first.

Your blood boils.

She knows. She can see you. Why does it have to be you first?

Finally, you stand.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You shriek, the built up rage of nearly a year evident in your voice, “Why? Why? Why, Dina?”

She stares at you, not shocked, but something like a smirk on her face.

The students around you are stunned.

“Oh, right, because you hate me! You're always on my fucking case about shit I didn't even do!”

“I'm just trying to help prepare you for the real world.” She smiles, her voice cold, “They won't care if you're a little tired in college.”

“A little tired?” Your voice grows quiet, breaking, “I'm not a little tired, I am drugged out of my fucking mind and under constant suspicion from every single person in my life!”

People stare as you cross the room, looking at her eye to eye, your fists clenched.

“Fuck you.” Your voice comes out low and shaky.

You shoulder the classroom door open and leave the school, stumbling down the sides of busy streets, no final destination in mind.

You have passing thoughts of jumping in front of a truck, the option seeming better and better as you grow exhausted, collapsing on your knees in a dirt lot.

Then you hear the ambulance.

And that marks the start of your first visit to the psych ward.

White, sterile cinder block walls. Tiny little window to the outside. It's like you're in prison.

A woman enters your room, smiling. You manage a smile back. They've got you detoxing off the antidepressants, to get a better scope of what's actually wrong with you.

“Hi, I'm Dr. Parks. You can call me Marie, though.”

The doctor has a kind face, calm eyes, pink lips, and a freckled nose. Her hair hangs in soft, brown curls.

“What were your symptoms before you started Zoloft?” She asks.

“Well… I didn't really have any. I didn't have any symptoms until I started taking it.”

“What?” She asks, after a pause.

“I guess I got a little sad or angry sometimes, but it wasn't that bad. I thought that was normal. But maybe I'm wrong.” You look down, doubting yourself.

You hear Marie arguing with a man outside of your door.

Her dad says she's out of control!

She seems perfectly normal!

You don’t even know what you’re on now. Three different pills a day, and your mom watches you like a hawk when you take them. You’re on edge constantly, feeling like any little thing you could possibly do will land you in more trouble. You feel like a stranger in your own body, like you’re dreaming everywhere you go. You’ve lost all autonomy, all awareness. Is this normal? Is this what life is supposed to be like?

The corners are all that remains of your old, glorious poster collage. Your dad has ripped everything down by the time you got home.

You miss goofy, shirtless Danzig.

You miss being able to trust your own thoughts.

You miss feeling alive.

~

They can't make things worse for me, sometimes I'd rather die

They can tell me lots of things, but I can't see eye to eye

I know they know the way I think, I know they always will

But someday I'm gonna change my mind, sometimes I'd rather kill

Bloodstains, speed kills

Fast cars, cheap thrills

Rich girls, fine wine

I've lost my sense, I've lost control, I've lost my mind

~

“Rodrick!”

A girl's voice. A wasted girl’s voice. He turns around.

Heather stumbles towards him, picking blonde hairs out of her lipgloss.

“Rodrick, hey,”

He feels his whole body stiffen as she approaches, and her hand lands on his shoulder.

“Can I talk to you?”

“No.” He shrugs out of her touch.

“We can go somewhere private, let's go to my place.”

“No.”

She narrows her eyes.

“Okay, well I guess I'll just drive home like this, or maybe I'll be safe and walk, and get kidnapped or something.” She throws her hands out to the sides, wobbling slightly.

“Ricky, are you fuckin’ crazy?” Buck whispers.

“What?” Rodrick turns.

“If you don't take her home, I think I might,” he laughs.

Rodrick wrinkles his nose.

“Buck, she's wasted. And half your fucking age.”

“What, like that's a bad thing?” He looks around at the group. Everyone laughs. Rodrick feels a pit in his stomach.

It hits him. They're disgusting. All of them. Why is he even here?

“Fuck you, Buck, I quit,” He stands up, not waiting for a reaction, “Heather, give me your keys.”

Heather grins, smug.

She walks out, clinging to him, and he helps her into her passenger seat. Her red convertible is stupidly nice, and he's afraid to mess up the leather seats just by sitting down.

“Blue sorority house on campus,”

Rodrick nods, pulling out of the parking lot. They drive in silence.

The house is empty, and he helps Heather onto a white sofa.

“Will you at least sit down?” She sighs.

“We don't have anything to talk about, Heather.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief. She scoffs.

“My boyfriend's got the cops on his ass because of you.”

“How is it because of me?” He gives up, sitting on the opposite side of the couch.

“Whatever. Either way, he's probably gonna go to jail.” She rolls her eyes, scooting closer to him.

“Uh-huh,” Rodrick moves until he's right against the arm of the couch.

“But he was kind of a bad boyfriend anyway.”

Rodrick is silent, looking at her. Searching her blue eyes. She looks part drunk, part sad, part… smug, maybe?

“And, y'know, it's got me thinking,” she puts her hand on his chest. Rodrick’s heartbeat skyrockets, “Maybe I should've… given certain people a chance.”

“Heather,” he looks down at her, breathing heavily as she combs her fingers over the fabric of his shirt, “Don't. C'mon.”

“Why not?” She pouts.

“You're… you're drunk. And I think nothing ever happened between us for a reason, I mean… I don't even feel anything for you anymore. You made my life hell after the party. And after we graduated.”

Her hand grips the front of his shirt, knuckles white. He stares down at it, eyes wide.

Then her face is right in front of his, and before he can stop it, her lips are on his, and it feels… oh, god, it feels wrong.

He pushes her off and stands up.

“Heather, no. It's not gonna happen.”

She sneers up at him.

“Fine, then leave.”

“I've wanted to leave this whole time!”

“Then go!” She yells.

He stands outside the door, breathing fast, fists clenched.

After all that time, it finally happened. And it was awful. He curses, kicking a piece of gravel across the street as he starts walking back to the bar. It takes a while, but he gets there, not bothering to go back inside. He spots Caitlin outside, on her smoke break.

“I’m glad you quit,” She laughs, a bitter sound, “Fuck those guys. I’m gonna miss you, though.”

“Thanks,” He sighs, looking down, holding the door of the truck open. “You should see about getting a job downtown. Don’t put up with them anymore, y’know?”

She smiles, taking a long drag.

“Yeah. Yeah, I should. I’ll work on it. See you around?”

“We’ll see.” Rodrick smiles softly, opening the door of the van.

He gets home to a dark, empty apartment. He should’ve gotten the address of that practice space. He feels bad for how he left this morning, even if they did hit him a little below the belt.

Unless they didn’t.

Rodrick eyes his laptop, his hands hovering over it, his mind flipping rapidly back and forth between open it and don’t fucking open it!

He opens it, and there it is, plain as day. World’s best bartender.

His eyes scan the page, mouth falling open in disbelief.

I assume the ship has sailed.

Dick move.

You probably don’t care anyway.

Rodrick’s heart drops.

You’d been waiting for him. You hadn’t hated him from the start, but you have to by now. It sure sounds like it. The offer to email back and call seems like a bitter formality now. He might as well just stay in his little shame bubble.

He’d hurt you.

He’s done stupid things before, lots of them, but he’s never hurt someone like this. It feels horrible, and here he’d been thinking it was all for your benefit.

He slowly closes the laptop, curling onto his side on the couch. This time, he lets himself cry. Without the shame, without the frustration. He just cries, until his eyes are dry, and he’s a lump on the couch.

He remembers the guy at the grocery store, and then the line from your email. Bonnie Forester…

I can’t answer mystery numbers right now.

He shifts to lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling, troubled. Are you in hiding or something? Who the hell was that guy?

He takes out his phone, and nobody has tried to get in contact with him all day.

Well, except his mom, who sent him a low resolution image of a kitten in a tree, with the text: hang in there! He rolls his eyes, but sends her a thanks, mom.

At least he has someone.

He decides to do something possibly stupid. He scrolls down to your number, saved as your name with several question marks afterwards. He debates for a while, thinking very carefully about what to say. He finally dials, and hears Bonnie's voicemail once again. Beep.

“Hey, um…” He sighs, cringing, “If this is… Bonnie… I'm sorry. Just in case, though, it's- it's Rodrick. I got your email. I'm so fucking sorry. I know you probably don't want to hear from me, like, ever again. I'm really, really sorry, and I’ll give you an explanation and a real apology sometime if you feel like listening to one. I just thought you should know there's some older guy showing pictures of you outside the grocery store on 4th, asking where he can find you? I don't know. It was really weird, and I told him I'd never seen you before. I figured it’s better safe than sorry.”

He pauses, squeezing his eyes shut, tears pricking at the corners.

“I'm just so sorry for what happened to the bar, and I know you hate me, I just… I miss you so much. Fuck-” As he's trying to hit the key to start the message over, his dumb fingers hit the one to confirm it instead. Shit, shit, shit. That was way too much. He stares at his phone in shock, like it's betrayed him. He debates just throwing it across the room, but he settles for letting it clatter to the floor.

This almost feels worse than ignoring the problem. His heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest.

He had to do it, though. He doesn’t want anyone to hurt you any worse than he had.

~

I wait forever for you

Figure out your problem with me is you

I won’t ever be like you

Ever see right through

~

High school starts. Public, this time.

You walk through the halls, feeling like a ghost. People look at you, and then quickly away. Nobody talks to you. And can you blame them? You look like a total nutcase. Well, you are, apparently.

Your mother dresses you like a Catholic schoolgirl. Plaid skirts and knee socks, white button downs and stupid little ties.

All of your focus goes into school.

I just have to pass this class. I just have to pass every single class.

You get A’s that your dad wishes were A+’s.

You grow angrier by the day.

Your 16th birthday passes, and nobody notices.

Spring Break comes, and you're actually invited to a party. Well- everyone is. You have one friend at this point, a lanky, unpopular boy named Peter. He's been on ADHD meds since he was in Kindergarten. He understands you in some weird way. He'd told you about the party with great excitement- finally, the two of you had a chance.

You beg your parents to go. To feel normal for a night.

They say no. Of fucking course they do.

You spend spring break at home, studying for finals.

The night of the party comes.

Rage builds. You're wasting your youth in a brain and a body that don't feel like yours. You’re fucking sick of it. You walk to the bathroom.

You find a pair of clippers that your dad uses to touch up his hair. You plug them in, removing the blade cover. They buzz to life.

You take a chunk of your hair off, and your jaw drops in surprise. A huge, bald stripe down the center of your head. You grin, taking off another stripe. And another. And another. Until your head is completely bald. Your hair lies in a pile on the floor.

Your mother had always loved your hair. It was just like hers, she’d said. People could mistake you for sisters.

Not anymore.

You haphazardly shave your eyebrows off for good measure.

You walk downstairs.

Your parents sit in front of the TV, neither watching. Your dad reads a newspaper, and your mom is asleep with an empty wine glass in her hand.

You stand there, staring at your dad.

He blinks at you in surprise, “Good lord- you look awful.”

You don’t say a word. He sighs, his tone staying calm.

“Is this still about that stupid party? You know I just want what’s best for you.”

Your face contorts, and you feel hot tears leaking out of your eyes. You grab his newspaper, and throw it on the ground.

“It's not just the party, and you know it!” Your voice comes out ragged.

“Okay, just calm down-” he starts.

You grab your mom's wine glass and launch it through the TV. You move on a path of destruction, breaking stupid, ugly vases, the glass case for your dad's dumb signed baseball, the “good” china plates in the cabinet.

Your dad tells you to calm down, to stop. He threatens you.

Your mother’s voice is shrill and panicked, “Your hair! What did you do to your hair?”

A scream bubbles out from your throat that won't stop, and you wail until your voice breaks, smashing everything you can get your hands on.

Your dad follows you to the kitchen, and before he can grab you, you take a knife from the block and hold it to your throat.

“Stop.” His voice is still entirely too stern and calm.

You press the tip to the hollow of your throat, raising your eyebrow, your heartbeat loud in your ears. After all that, the biggest outburst of them all, he's still a cold, emotionless asshole.

Your mom tackles you to the ground.

You come to in a room, identical to the one before, in the psych ward.

You sit on the side of the hard cot, bouncing your knees, feeling your eyes twitch, dry tears in hardened streaks on your face.

A woman comes in. You see the light from behind her, shining through her soft curls. She looks like an angel.

“C'mon. Hurry.” She whispers.

This must be some kind of a hallucination, but… the door is open. You follow her.

She sneaks you through the hospital, retrieving the clothes you'd come in with and rushing you out the front doors. You're hurried into the passenger side of a car. You finally get a good look at her.

It's Marie, the doctor, from all those years ago.

“Are you… real?”

She looks at you.

“Yes. You shouldn't be here.”

You just stare at her, feeling dazed.

“Your parents want to have you transferred to a long term facility and put a conservatorship on you once you're 18.”

“What…?”

“When you shouldn't have even been here in the first place.” She huffs, starting the car.

“What does that mean?” you ask, feeling small in the car seat.

“They'll have guardianship over you for your whole life, unless you can prove to a court that you're able to take care of yourself. And you won't be able to if you're on drugs that you don't need to be on.”

You blink at her.

“Where are you taking me?” Your voice shakes.

“Well, where do you want to go?”

You look at her, stunned. You haven't gotten to make a decision for yourself in years.

“I get… to choose?”

“Yeah,” she smiles at you, “I'd hide you at my house, but I've got too many people at home. It would be too hard. Where's somewhere you've always wanted to go?”

You think, New York instantly coming to mind. It's not far, but… you'd get eaten alive. C'mon, think.

You remember seeing flyers here and there, outside of grocery stores, and on telephone poles by the high school, for punk shows.

Always in a town called Port Hanna.

You grin.

“I wanna go to Port Hanna.”

She smiles, and takes a turn that leads to the highway.

Port Hanna is 45 minutes away, and Marie lets you fiddle with the radio.

A station turns from static to a man talking, in a passionate, nasally voice.

“People thought I was crazy. My parents kicked me out when I was 16, and I said, okay, screw you. I'm going where the music is.”

Your ears perk up.

“I got to Oakland, and followed this group of punks onto a bus that went right to San Francisco. Followed ‘em to Mabuhay Gardens. Walked inside with the Xs on my hands, and Dirk Dirksen was calling the guy onstage a cavalcade of insults that I can not repeat on this broadcast. That man was Iggy Pop, and he played a song I had heard many times before. This time was different. This time, it changed me. This is that song.”

A bouncy, simple guitar riff kicks in. The music feels like it’s hugging your ears. You’ve heard it before, but you feel it changing you, too. Tears fall from your eyes uncontrollably as Marie drives.

~

Honey, gotta strike me blind

Somebody’s gotta save my soul

Baby, penetrate my mind

And I’m the world’s forgotten boy

The one who’s searchin’, searchin’ to destroy

And, honey, I’m the world’s forgotten boy

The one who’s searchin’, only to destroy

~

Marie pulls up to a motel. She gets the room while you wait in the car. She hands you the key outside the door, an outside entry on a 2-story balcony, and slips a bundle of money into your hand. You embrace her.

“I got you 7 days- I know it’s not enough. Nothing would be enough, but-” She sighs.

“It’s enough. It’s more than enough.” You squeeze her, “I’ll figure something out,”

“Jesus. You’re too young to have to figure something like that out.”

“It’s okay.”

“One more thing,” she pulls away, “If the phone rings, you don’t say hello. You wait until they talk.”

You nod.

“And as the meds wear off, you’re probably going to feel a little weird, but it’s worth it. I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle, after all you’ve been through. Just… please be careful. Call me if you need anything.”

She hands you another slip of paper, with a phone number written down.

You hug her one last time, and she’s gone.

The room is friendly, if dated. A tacky, fruit-patterned comforter covers the bed, with a matching armchair in the corner. The walls are a soft beige, and a tired-sounding air conditioning unit runs under the window. Your head feels freezing- an unfamiliar feeling- and you turn it off. You change out of your hospital clothes into the ones you’d been admitted in, and feel a little better. You click the TV on, sitting in the middle of the bed. Alone- the good kind of alone. You tune in to MTV, a formerly banned channel in your household. You don’t know who’s being interviewed, and you don’t care. You’re just too happy to hear music. To hear people talking about music.

Hello, my dears, Dave Holmes here-

An ad for a pizza joint grabs your attention from by the phone, and your stomach growls. You haven’t had much of an appetite in months, not to mention your mom put the two of you on a different restrictive diet every month or so.

You count the cash Marie had given you, wondering if you could even budget food, and are shocked at the amount. Feeding yourself is definitely in the budget. You’re so happy you could cry.

You use an alias on the phone- Debbie Carlisle- and don’t look too close at the pizza guy when he arrives. As you’re about to close the door, a voice stops you from outside.

“Debbie Carlisle? Is that your stage name?” the man laughs, tall and slender, leaning on the balcony, blowing out a plume of smoke, “Debbie Harry, plus Belinda Carlisle? I like it.”

“No. Yes! Uh… no.” You panic, standing in the doorway. How did he figure it out so fast?

The man turns around. He doesn’t look too much older than you are. A pencil mustache lines his lip, and his hair makes him look like a rooster.

“You look like you’ve been through hell.” He nods at your shaved head.

You’re silent for a few seconds.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“You watchin’ 120 Minutes?” He peers into your open door.

“Yes.”

“Alright, well I won’t bother you too much, then. See ya ‘round, Debbie.” He smirks, ashing his cigarette over the side of the balcony.

You shut your door.

The ending of the memory is bittersweet. Nick took your rejection hard. You don’t know if he’ll ever talk to you again. You sit up on the bed, looking out the window. You’re exhausted. You wipe a tear from your cheek and pull out your cell phone. 1 missed call, and a voicemail. The same number from last week. Strange.

You click on the voicemail, holding the phone up to your ear.

The shock of Rodrick’s voice makes your eyes go wide. You feel yourself go limp, your eyes welling up again.

I’m so fucking sorry.

I’m really, really sorry.

You let your face fall into your hand, your lip trembling. All your anger with him seems to fall away, all the bullshit you’d been telling yourself earlier.

Some older guy showing pictures of you-

Your head snaps up. Nerves take over your body. You sigh with relief that Rodrick had good enough instincts to not give you up.

Your heart warms when he says he misses you.

As much as you sort of hate yourself for it, you miss him, too. You really, really do.

You don’t have it in you to call him back, not right now. You’ll be a blubbering mess. You’d rather see him in person, anyway.

There’s a party tomorrow- a big one- and The Strike re-opens on Saturday. It’ll be your first time out of the house in a week, if everything goes to plan. Maybe, just maybe, his friends will manage to drag him out of the house.

For now, you wait.

~

Now you’re finally sixteen

And you’re feelin’ old

But they won’t believe

That you’ve got a soul

Whoa-whoa-no

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