#i over dye it when i first dye it so it fades into the color i want and i can keep it longer as a result

[oriax]

its hair dye weekend....

[fabdante]

Re: reboot Dante dyeing his hair red to match his mom's hair color:

Thinking about reboot Dante and preboot Nero bonding over dyeing one another's hair. Dante suggests it to help Nero blend in/lay low more- and just because Dante wants to dye his hair red, and spend time with (who he considers to be like) his cousin.

I think maybe blue and a little bit of yellow would look okay on Nero? Like, blue at the tips, then fading to yellow, and then with a good chunk of it Nero's original silver color, y'know? Or maybe blue and red, maybe with some purple?

that could be fun!! though as someone with blue hair it does not help you lay low asdfghjk people constantly want to talk to me about my hair it is a blessing and a curse

however i like blue for nero i think it'd be cute. purple and red could also be fun (i used to do purple and red) though i don't think he has the patience for red (red hair dye is...Difficult)

honestly i don't know if dante has the patience for it either? what he does have though is the stubbornness to keep dying it asdfghjk so i give him that

[bitchkay]

Tomorrow's Dekus birthday so I'm dying my hair green.

[cinnahoons]

𝐁𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌! ₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

𖦹ׂ 𓈒 🐇 જ⁀➴ riki helps you dye your hair on the floor of your bedroom, but did you really have to pick that color?

nishimura riki x fem!reader; wc 1.8k; genres pure fluff, established relationship; cw none; notes i edited a riki selca for this drabble who’s gonna congratulate me!!! + i listened to magnetic by illit 5000 times while writing

there’s a knock at your door, gentle, and then it’s swinging open, a chestnut colored blur with the tall, lanky figure of your blonde-haired boyfriend appearing behind it.

“‘kay, i got it,” he murmurs, slipping his shoes off and padding with socked feet over to where you’re sprawled on the floor of your bedroom. you push down against the carpet with your palms, groaning with the effort of having to sit up from the comfortable position you’d been in. riki sits down next to you, crossing his legs.

in his hand is a box of l’oreal hair dye, a light bubblegum pink. he fiddles with the packaging a little, his eyebrows furrowed as he tears the top part of the box off gently. you reach over in excitement, tongue poking out as you take the box from his hands and pull out the packet inside.

“it’s gonna look so cute,” you gush, reaching for the small extra bowl you and riki had brought into your room earlier when you’d bleached your hair. you’d long since opened the windows, the acrid smell of the bleach almost completely faded. it had been risky work, what with the running risk of dropping bleach onto the carpet, but you’d managed to pull through.

riki glances at you from the corner of his eye, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“i still can’t believe you want pink,” he murmurs, watching as you tear open the packet and pour the color into the bowl. he makes a face at the small mountain of rosy paste, the strings of his large, plush hoodie twirled around his finger. “it’s the worst color ever.”

you pout at him, handing the bowl to your boyfriend as per the usual routine.

“i think it’s pretty.” you maneuver your body around so that your back is facing riki, your freshly bleached hair freed from any elastics. “you don’t think it’s gonna look good?”

there’s a little sigh, and then you feel hands in your hair, pulling out a section at the bottom of your head and tying the rest up with an elastic. riki reaches into the bowl of color with a bare hand, ignoring the brush (he stopped using it after the first couple times he’d done this for you in the last years), and takes a small amount onto his fingers. a moment passes, and then he’s raking the color into your hair, tugging ever-so-gently at your scalp as he massages the dye into every last strand.

you hum contentedly, allowing the boy to help you as you fiddle absentmindedly with the fabric of his socked foot. he wiggles his toes—an action that he knows you find adorable despite its childish implications—causing a giggle to float out of your chest. sunlight from your open window beams against your face, yet it somehow isn’t as warm as your boyfriend’s presence behind you.

“since it’s you,” he starts, leaning closer to squint at a strand before thumbing on an extra bit of color, “it’ll look good. even if it’s pink.” he says the last part a bit downcast, eyes trained on the (no doubt sickening, in his opinion) pink bowl of dye sitting between his legs. the words come out like they’ve literally taken years off of his life, to which you’re only able to roll your eyes fondly.

a couple more minutes pass, and riki’s about halfway done with your hair. you’re rocking side to side, humming the tune to a random song as he works. eventually, you decide there’s no better pastime than to annoy your boyfriend.

“how much do i have to pay you to get you to say i chose the perfect color?”

there’s silence, and then riki is snorting, putting his hands up to your head again to massage slowly against your scalp.

“don’t push it.”

a smile creeps onto your face. your eyes flutter shut to the comforting feeling of his fingers in your hair, breathing in slowly through your nose.

“name a currency. dollars? gift cards? new jewelry?”

he starts to laugh, then. it’s a tinkly sound that sets a nerve alight in your brain, bubbling and fizzing like a little can of sweet, syrupy soda. your smile widens, and even though riki can only see your back, you’re sure he knows.

“i’m trying so hard not to call you an idiot right now.” his own smile is apparent through his voice, a lilt to it like he’s fighting to keep the corners of his lips down.

a warm feeling spreads in your chest. you have so much adoration for the boy carding pink fingers through your hair, from his way-oversized hoodie to his wriggly toes. it’s taking all the strength you can physically muster not to lean back and get hair dye all over the both of you, just to be wrapped in his embrace.

“what about kisses?” you supply cheekily. riki pauses, his hands stilling in your hair. after a moment, he says:

“...i can be persuaded.”

he pulls his fingers from your hair at the same moment that you start to turn around, resting with your knees to the floor as you come face to face with your boyfriend again. he’s giving you his best glower—although it’s definitely more of a goofy cartoon rendition, at best. you giggle at him.

“hurry up,” he mutters, a pink flush to his cheeks as he eyes the dye plastered all over your previously bleached-blond hair.

you wobble on your knees a little as you crawl closer, fitting between his legs and bracing your hands against his shoulders.

“i’m about to give you the best kiss of your life,” you tell him, your voice dripping in mock seriousness. he squints at you, a smile playing at his lips.

“pink is the greatest color of all time,” he blurts, like the words are acid, his eyes closing immediately in waiting. you gaze at his face for a second, mapping his moles like constellations, your eyes drifting over his pouty lips and landing square on the tip of his nose.

where you’ll do it is no contest, really, because you’re leaning in to press a sweet butterfly kiss against his nose without much more than a split-second decision. he waits for a beat longer, eyes still closed, before he pops one open to reveal a confused brown iris.

“you cheated,” he deadpans, his face cupped in your hands. you brush a thumb over his eyebrow before letting go, backing away from him with a teasing smile.

“no i didn’t. i kissed you, like i said i would.”

“that wasn’t a real one,” he grumbles, grabbing your shoulders and maneuvering you around gently so that you’re sitting with your back to him once again. you laugh, the sound sticky and sweet in your chest.

“i didn’t know there was such a thing as a fake kiss.”

“whatever,” he replies, swatting at your shoulder with no force. “i didn’t need one anyway.” then there are hands in your hair again, slipping against your scalp to finish the final section near your forehead.

“‘m sorry,” you giggle, even though you’re not.

he finishes shortly, and you stand up on wobbly, slightly numb legs. you pad across your room, turning on the light in your bathroom, with riki whisking away the empty bowls you’d left behind and bringing them to your sink. he works on washing them as you slip into the shower, rosy rivulets of water running down your body like unicorn tears. you can’t help but to shiver a little, the cold water rinsing your hair sending goosebumps all across your skin.

riki hands you a towel when you step out, one that’s already stained with a myriad of different dyes from your past hair adventures. you towel up your hair, dressing quickly in the pajamas you'd been wearing while riki finishes rinsing off his hands in the sink.

when he turns around he’s squinting at you, pulling the towel off your head even as you protest weakly. your fresh, pink hair tumbles down, and riki chuckles to himself as he grabs a hairbrush.

the motions are familiar, the comfortable silence permeating the routine tugging at your heartstrings like gentle rain. the brush runs through your locks with sweet fervor, smoothing any knots that might have formed in the shower. in the end, your hair air-dries, the color in its final form a lovely shade of shiny pink.

“oh,” riki says, staring at you with a completely blank look on his face. but his voice sounds like he’d just come to the realization of the century. “it’s pretty.”

something about it—the way he’s a steely revelation of nothing, and yet he’s brimming with something like fond curiosity, is so completely riki that you could die. happiness surges in your throat, and the soda can in your brain pops open again, the same sugary sweet bubbles from earlier zipping off like little candied neurons.

“yeah?” you mumble, fighting to keep a wide grin from invading your face.

he nods silently, blond bangs flopping against his face.

“i told you, didn’t i?

he purses his lips for a second before his mouth is twisting into a smile, a quiet laugh tumbling from his chest.

“you did.”

you walk closer to him, giggling. he reaches out, letting you clutch at his forearms for balance. and then you’re smiling at him, and neither of you are saying anything but it somehow feels like you’ve said it all.

he shifts, cupping warm, bubblegum hands over your cheeks. the staining reaches just past his palms—like raw, honest evidence of the way he loves you.

and then he’s leaning in, bumping his nose against yours intentionally before hes titling a little to the right, your lips meeting in a soft kiss.

his hands slip to the back of your head, blending in with your soft pink locks. as he kisses you, lips slotted against yours tenderly, his fingers twirl in your hair.

you break apart with shy smiles, heat in your face and a staticky buzz in your head. riki lips are pink, and he pulls his hands away from you to run them through his hair.

“transaction completed,” you giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“oh, shut up,” he replies, screwing his face up in gentle amusement, and then surging forward to tackle you with a hug.

.ೃ࿐

at the end of the day, when riki’s grabbing his stuff and getting ready to drive back to his house for the night, you decide to take a picture together.

he stands behind you, pink-stained hands wrapping around your torso to rest on your stomach. his head dips down to rest on your shoulder while you hold your phone up to snap a picture in the full-length mirror standing before you.

a lone, pink stripe of hair rests against riki’s face, a shock of color against the light blonde of the rest of his head.

he kisses you on the cheek.

click!

tags! @tyunni @vousty

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Snake dance for emperors

Emperor Geta/Caracalla x fem!reader

warning : dysfunctional family, tried comfort (as much as this is possible with these two), kissing, use of dagger, smutish, some touching, written before the movie comes out characters may be different at the end

summary : With the Colosseum, other types of entertainment come to the Empire of Rome. Not only acrobats and actors but also animal tamers and especially the agile snake dancer with cobras slithering along her body caught the attention of the two most powerful men in the world. So what happens when you're in a room with poisonous animals, pressure to perform and two emperors?

info : I just love them can't wait to see how they are in the movie. I'm not fully satisfied, it was supposed to be something else (more smut) but now it is what it is I hope you like it anyway:)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rome, the empire of history past versus present and future. A place of aspiration, arts and philosophers who passed on their knowledge to interested minds.

Violence and entertainment by gladiators in the Coloseum and the home of two young men who could have taken over the world with laurel wreaths on their heads.

The money practically clung to their bodies no matter where they went it was the finest fabrics and colors of dye that surrounded them both, the white face makeup and the dark, mineral-infused coat around their eyes darker protruding, light hair divine as the sun, making the two emperor brothers recognizable everywhere.

With the triumph and amusement in the Colosseum, the rich and influential men also met at parties organized by the elite. Politicians, philosophers, merchants and scalpers as well as military generals could all be found there... but besides the elite there was also the untrhlatung in the form of fire-breathers, exotic animals and songs.

Showmen with magnificent costumes or the snake woman surrounded by flowers while on her light clad body the dark snakes curled along, beautiful but dangerous animals taken from the straw woven baskets on her hand along her arms skillful fingers and soft sounds of her voice with inviting and engaging vibrations of her body.

The small beads and stones on her tiny outfit covered her most necessary parts as the silk clung to her body and the animals moved across it. ,,I wonder what will happen if they all bite her," the elder mumbled to his brother, who shook his head in amusement at the comment, a hum of laughter leaving his lips, and took another sip of wine.

Geta hardly liked the party at first, but the younger knew that it was much more important to be well received not only by the senate but also by the other pillars of the empire.

They might be at the top, but without merchants, influential philosophers or even the slave traders, Rome would lack important things. ,,It would be amusing for a moment...but hardly any different than in the Colosseum," he replied briefly, not giving his advisor a glance but seeing that Caracalla's smile did not fade.

Despite the fact that he was older by a year, he seemed to have little interest in all of this, only the prospect of perhaps a little mischief or amusement had brought him out next to his brother.

So they found themselves sitting here for a few minutes, a little apart from the large tables and round corners in the rooms with the exotic pretty things from displays of dead things and old weapons to her.

A young woman arrived in Rome with one of the many circus wagons that presented themselves in different cities and entertained the people with talent for special normal amusement and no murder and killing.

She had known that the normal shows were as beautiful as they were and she always smiled when children were fascinated watching the animals and she could teach them something, so she knew how serious it was when it came to such parties, ,,The Imperial Brothers, the elite will be there...one mistake and we are next" were the words of her boss who knew that they could use any coins and let her go.

So here she was, dancing around at first, talking about the artifacts, but as soon as the torches announced the night and cast old shadows, she resumed her role as a sanke dancer and took her place.

At first, some stopped to look at her body and clothes until they were fascinated by the snake, paying attention to the connection between her and the animals, sometimes throwing flowers and coins to her for the extra money it was worth to buy new fabric.

Some even talked to her about her interest in the animals, though most of the questions were about ulterior motives for other services she no longer offered, and perhaps she kept the snakes a little too far away from her to keep the men at a distance.

She would only be here for a few more hours until she was picked up, until she saw the gold, until she saw the two wreaths, until she saw the golden hair, until she heard the curtains being drawn and she was alone with the two emperors.

She heard them talking, and in between the full words she saw their gazes, pairs of eyes looking at her as if she were long dead or undressed, or perhaps both. ,,As sorry as I am, my time here is almost at an end my Emperors" she dared to raise her voice interrupting the quiet conversation and words to the animals and relaxed slightly hoping they had drank enough to just leave, she felt her own exhaustion her feet aching from standing so much.

The moon was high in the sky, providing light in the great city alongside the fires of torches and lanterns of oil but her hopes were dashed when she saw the playfully indignant look on Caracalla's face as he tilted his head, ,,But we are still here and not satisfied," he protested, his fingers closing tightly around the goblet in which the wine floated.

Even Geta, who didn't like the party, apparently wanted relief and a reward for having to do this to, only made an almost inviting gesture, ,,I want to see her," he said and she didn't know if he meant her first or her snakes.

Stifling a sigh, she got off her little stage and approached them slowly and carefully. She had always had her snakes under control but now one mistake and they would all hang.

Geta's eyes looked into hers for a moment, not dismissively but rather challengingly, he let his gaze wander over her body for a moment, lingering on her chest, which was recognizable despite the light fabric, before he held out his hand and she offered him a middle part of the snake to stroke.

The three of them knew very well that she could not do anything except follow orders. Geta could take her here and now he could just as well have left her to his brother who could probably still put on an amusing show. But this narrow game between emperors, a powerless victim and deadly nature was much more amusing.

Almost imperceptibly, his lips curled into a smile, ,,Pretty animals, dangerous and deadly like their owner, aren't they brother?" he asked, turning his gaze to Caracalla, who was watching the whole thing with a broad smile, but his fingers were playing with his dagger, the blade moving slowly towards her.

He seemed to be only heartbeats away from carving her skin with the tip, his desire to see the blood as in the arena never seemed satisfied, ,,If the emperors allow it, will you hold her?" she asked quickly when Caracalla could finally cut her and she knelt down in front of the two of them, seeing the brief imperceptible twitching of the fingers that would not only have liked to lie on the snakes, if the knife had gone a little further up her skin, the fabric of her scanty top would have been torn apart.

Fingers that had already caressed his middle, his gasping giggles and the slight moans that came from her dancing movements, the fantasy of the gods and her being.

Sometimes more, sometimes less obvious, but he saw that she saw it. It amused him. Both brothers seemed to be turned on by the power of being able to take whatever they wanted…but they were merciful for the moment.

Before even Geta smiled at the gesture, crediting her for her courage in the face of two men who could mean her end at any time, she gave the first snake to Geta and took his hands in hers, ,,Calmly and slowly it will not bite you as long as you respect its power, my Emperor," she said, feeling his gaze on her as she slid one of the animals onto his arm and he looked at it for a moment.

,,You'll always kneel before us at your next performance," he murmured casually as if it were a thought that had just come to him, kneeling and crawling naked like a whore instead of leaving her the last dignity was the appropriate thing to do in his eyes.

,,And amuse us," Caracalla added and she found the cool point of the dagger sharp under her chin again, the older one forcing her to give him attention like a child who didn't get sweet honey from his mother, disgustingly foolish but dangerous, but Geta made no move to help her. Why, in the end, she was just a dancer, a woman a nobody compared to two emperors.

Slowly guiding the snake that had wrapped itself around her chest onto her hand, she carefully took his free hand in hers, ,,They would smell blood and devotion it would be unwise" she said not warning but rather reminding them that the black cobras were not toys, they were nature, animals that could not and would never be tamed.

The moment like a tension on the battlefield the cobra seemed to wrap itself quickly around Caracalla's neck not tight but the more it tightened despite not being a constrictor it could be dangerous.

The protection of the bond to her only went so far as the snake would obey orders on its own and Caracalla was in danger of becoming another victim. ,,Attention is wrapped around pretty things," she heard Geta say, his own fingers stroking her cheek, leaving her still paused, the cool blade of the dagger still against her neck, the younger emperor moving closer to her.

Once again a difference in power, he could have accepted the death of his brother for her, for her body, for his lust that her lips would probably wrap around his middle.

While it would probably still excite him as his suffocating brother took her cunt, this was just another thought in a moment that had an uncertain end.

Her snake seemingly not bothering him as he caressed her cheek, she smelled the makeup, the wine and the metallic gold and yet she returned the heartfelt kiss as he grabbed her harshly by the neck and pulled her close, she still vaguely heard Caracalla's gasp, which must have reached its amused ecstasy as death robbed her of its air.

She felt the dagger slip only slightly from her neck but that was all she needed to pull away from Geta with a jerk, hearing his annoyed snarl, she let her lips trail over the dagger, seeing the fascination of the two men at what she had done before she put her fingers to the blade.

,,Relax," she murmured before engaging the blond elder in a kiss, hearing the smirk that was stifled, the shake of his head and the laying down of the dagger as the clasp came off his neck after a few moments and she took the cobra back.

The moment between them was the fact of possible death, the lie obviously driven by the challenge, her uncertain determination and the deadly metal.

Taking the snakes back, she felt the burning gaze on her back just as the two emperors seemed to be waiting for a moment, the slight dull closing of the crobe the last bit of composure the two men could muster before they rose from their chairs and she felt their hands on her.

Another night in Rome for the emperors whose night was hardly different from any other, a night she had hoped she would never have to do again....but under the touch of human gods and her fast beating heart, it seemed she would never be able to tame the human snakes and their stifled sounds of pleasure and pain would be heard long into the night through their poison.

She was the first to hear Caracalla's giggle, but when she felt the cool fingers of Getas on her arm, the metal of the rings moving harshly over her skin, he turned her into his arms to engage her in another kiss while his other hand finally came to rest on her breast. He simply tore the fabric off for something else better.

His older brother, however, claimed her other half, his lips, once painted with make-up, had long lost their red and she now felt him press against her, almost obsessively taking her breath before she gasped out, her painful moan drowned in the kiss as Caracallae cut her with the dagger to get the blood.

Caracalla's fangs dug into her skin, his bites hard and sharp as he feasted on every drop of blood, a grotesque contrast to his white make-up. With every thrust, with every lustful sound, with every attempt to resist, Geta seemed to take on her strength, wrapping himself around her, depriving her of all sight, his serpentine body never letting go of her that night. Both had found the perfect prey and would leave nothing of her, for once ensnared, snakes never let go of their prey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 67

part 1 | part 66 | ao3

cw: recreational drug use

Waiting around to die or get arrested or whatever fucking sucks. Partly because there’s no running water (Steve’s never wanted to take a stress shower so badly in his life) and partly because Eddie won’t let him stay sober. Has it in his head that altering Steve’s mental state will keep Vecna away, like hanging a mosquito net over the opening of a tent.

It’s not not working, he guesses.

He hasn’t fallen in to any more hallucinated open graves, at least.

He comes down the stairs a little before noon, towel-drying his hair after a bottled water sink bath, and finds Eddie in the kitchen: Reeboks on, hair a cotton candy mess, head-to-toe teddy bear tie-dye under his leather jacket — a matching shirt and sweats that he fished out of Rick’s dresser. He’s stirring Spaghettios in a small pot at the stove, and when he sees Steve come in he turns to offer some, the wooden spoon held out with a sort of desperate perkiness. “Morning! I found food that isn’t expired. You want some?”

Steve shakes his head.

Eddie shovels the whole spoonful into his mouth; wipes sauce off his chin, speaks before he’s finished chewing. “I also found blotters in the freezer and shrooms in the bedroom closet, so uh. Pick your poison.”

Steve picks the shrooms. They wait a few hours to take them because Eddie swears the sunset while you’re tripping is unparalleled, man, although Steve kind of suspects that he’s just giving him time to work up the nerve to eat them. He still gets nervous about chemicals — probably always will, after the shit the Russians did.

In the meantime, Eddie rummages through Rick’s cassette collection, and Steve talks to Robin on the walkie; gets all the new details in staticky half-sentences — something about mind flayers and mental hospitals, what else is new? He tells her to be safe; tells her that he loves her; keeps his eyes trained on the clock.

—

Shrooms smell and taste like ass. Steve can’t stomach them; spits into the grass while Eddie laughs sympathetically and hands him a little square of paper to put on his tongue instead, and they spread out side by side on a few old beach towels by the water and wait for it to kick in.

Nothing, at first, not that Steve expected different. Twenty minutes; forty-five.

“Still nothing?”

“Nothing.”

And then.

Eddie holds up a glossy aquamarine pebble, squinting at its glow in the late afternoon sun. “I should give this rock to Skye. Bet she’d love it.”

“That’s a shard of glass.”

Eddie blinks at it. “Oh, shit.”

Steve snorts, and when he looks at Eddie sideways there’s a glimmer of that same cerulean shade outlining his whole body, a low-frequency feather of energy rolling off of him in waves. Eddie moves his arm and the color chases it, a long-exposure photo of high beams on rain-slick roads.

“Oh,” Steve says, mouth slack. His voices echo in his head; all six of them. “I think I’m…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, eyes alight, pupils blown.

“Yeah.”

All at once something slots into place, attunes itself inside of Steve, and it’s like… he can see Eddie’s mind; touch it, cradle it, reach out to it with its own. It feels crazy. Psychedelics are fucking crazy. He reaches out a hand, slicing through ribbons of shimmering light, tasting the colors as they fade, and Eddie’s emotions spread out in high-definition before him — like the image has always been there but now it’s crystal clear; someone’s shifted his focal point, filled a kiddie pool with Epsom salt and left him there to float.

“I see you,” he says nonsensically.

Eddie frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“…That I can see you?”

“I usually am.”

That’s not right. Eddie’s thoughts shouldn’t sour on his account, shouldn’t sag in the middle like a moldy tangerine. “I can close my eyes?”

“Fuck,” Eddie laughs, thin and strained. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m not allowed to kiss you.”

“You’re not?”

He hesitates. “Am I?” Antsy fingers drum the grass, overgrown with vibrant clover and dandelion stalks. “Just feel like we should talk first, if uh, if it’s safe.”

Steve probes his own mind, tests it for outside threats, but there’s nothing. The acid forms a fractal fortress. Penrose steps, paradoxical and strange. “It’s safe.”

He moves to lie on his side, invites Eddie to do the same. “Talk into the kiss,” he suggests when Eddie joins him — face to face, chest to chest, Steve can see the thrum of Eddie’s heartbeat in the hollow of his throat; wants to press his thumb to it, so he does, the sense memory of ripe cherries bursting on his tongue.

Eddie’s lips against his own; hovering. Static electricity like the scent of summer rain. “I think my pride makes me a coward.”

Steve rubs his dry lips across Eddie’s, chapped skin and shared heat.

“It’s like… I kept trying to tell myself that I was being… I don’t know, valiant, or some shit? Like, ‘oh, he’s so much better without me. I’m the town pariah; I’m keeping him safe by running away.’” He thumps his fist against his heart as if beating a shield to shining armor, and Steve can’t see his eyebrows with their foreheads pressed together, but he can feel Eddie scrunching them into a picture-perfect hero frown. Almost has to laugh — so fucking theatrical even when he’s serious.

“But if I’m honest,” Eddie murmurs, “it wasn’t like that at all. Nothing fucking brave about vanishing on you. Like, what?” His voice shifts again, lilting but critical, a comedian doing crowd work. “I get a liiiittle fucked up by townies two too many times, and I sabotage my whole life over it? Ruin the best thing I’ve ever had over it? As if this goddamn horseshit hasn’t been happening to me since— forever! Shit.” He blows his bangs out of his face; calms himself. Goes a little cross-eyed trying to look Steve in the eye. “I got scared, Steve. There it is. That’s the ugly truth of it.”

He swallows harshly in the dense silence that follows.

Robins chirp; cars pass.

The lake laps at the shore and casts prisms like fishing line, spiderwebs of rainbow light flashing behind Steve’s eyelids. He brings his hands up to Eddie’s face.

“Christ.” Eddie shudders; lets himself become dead weight, rubbing his cheek into the touch, warm stubble scratching over the pads of Steve’s fingers. “Am I making any sense? I feel like I’m not making any sense.”

Yes. No. “You’re making sense. I mean. As much as anything is right now.” The sandy brown freckles on the bridge of Eddie’s nose are swirling like snow flurries. Steve traces them with curious hands. His knuckles blur and swivel, too. “You left because… you wanted to protect me from… yourself?” He sums up, not sure if he’s getting the math right.

“I left because I’m a scared little shit who couldn’t handle getting bullied in a parking lot, but uh. Yeah. I guess I, like, didn’t want to…” His eyes go big and startled, cheeks flooding bright pink. “Oh, shit, I was about to say I didn’t want to curse you, Jesus Christ.”

Steve honks with laughter. Loud and deep and punched out without warning, because the irony of that — that there’s a literal big bad running around cursing people, and the person who was actually doing some real good in his life decided that he was the problem — it’s fucking— hilarious! Hysterical! Steve giggles himself sick, lungs burning as it tapers to a silent wheeze, and Eddie joins him, confusion giving way to compulsion; contagion in the manic giddiness spewing out of Steve.

“You thought—” Steve struggles through hiccups, tears beading in his lash line, “you thought you were the bad luck charm in this relationship?”

“Don’t mock me!” Eddie whines, still laughing. “I already said it was dumb.”

“It’s so dumb.” Eddie may be the cutest, dumbest thing he’s ever seen. He rubs his thumbs over his cheekbones, smile fading. “If anyone’s a curse, it’s me.” Four for four here on getting dragged into supernatural shit. Does Eddie really think homophobes are more dangerous than hell dimensions?

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “You’re a fucking blessing.”

Warmth radiates through Steve, drips from the crown of his head like a downpour of holy water. He feels anointed. Ascended. He feels— “Please tell me we’re allowed to kiss now.”

Their mouths crush together, impossible to tell who moves first, whose tongue is in whose mouth, whose desperate breath Steve swallows as Eddie rolls him onto his back. Hands roam and pull and clutch, molding the shape of him into the earth. Maybe someday, Steve thinks, if aliens invade, they’ll study these imprints like crop circles, trampled declarations of how much Steve loves this boy. “God,” he gasps into the kiss. “Missed you so much.”

“So much.”

“Don’t do that to me again. Don’t go.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. His grip tightens on Steve’s waist. “Never again, baby, I fucking promise. I think I—”

On the far side of the house, leaves crunch and branches snap as a car pulls up the drive. Boots on pavement, rowdy voices; unfamiliar; red alert.

“Spread out, boys!” the voice of Jason Carver bellows. “If that Freak’s in here, we’ll find him.”

—

part 68

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[elvenbeard]

Old and Happy

😭 my feels have been all over the place since I finally finished this! Don't even remember when I started, as I kept working on and off on it over a couple of months. But I think it was after writing something particularly angsty and going "you know what, they will get their happy ending though, so it's all good".

Some details and thoughts below the read more cause it got long hhhh ;A;

This is in about 2087 maybe, roughly "ten years later". Vince changed his hair, ditched the rattail for good (or again xD) for something still colorful but a bit more easy to style. But he might change it up again, he's done so repeatedly and still likes to experiment with his hair.

Not visible, he probably would've added some elements to his back tattoo after surviving all of 2077. Johnny's tattoo he covered up as well, he would've done that first probably before the back piece. Adding some things here and there over time, with colors and patterns and wings, some cherry blossoms ('cause a thing of beauty will never truly fade away - hence just not getting laser removal but covering it with something that suits him more, but keeping some elements like the J and V visible). It started with three roses below the "V" as a little homage to Jackie, and 2077 as the year that finally put him on the right track in his life, even if it almost killed him in the process.

Overall he is a healthier weight than he was for most of his life, and finally got some therapy he desperately needed to deal with all the crap he went through pre-2077 already. He's not dyeing his first grey hairs because hell, that he's even still around to get some is amazing with his line of work and life story. And he realized that there's no need to be super well put togeher 24/7, clean shaven and whatnot, when you know you're just gonna be hanging out with your man and cat all weekend (and actually allowing yourself to something like that - leisure time and pizza in bed, unheard of to 2077!Vince). He's doing good and feels good and comfortable, physically and mentally.

Kerry also changed, also embracing the dad bod over abs, probably still experimenting with his looks a lot now and then whenever the label feels like they need to draw attention to him for whatever reason. But to the brown eyes he returned in 2078 already in my headcanon for the Sun ending timeline, and he stuck with them.

Overall I think he might finally care a little less about other people's opinions too, the buzz and the drama, cause he knows that at the end of the day there's always gonna be someone waiting for him at home who loves him unconditionally. He's a bit calmer and at ease, but of course still up to no good whenever he gets the chance to stir shit up xD Vince and him remain to be a dangerous duo you don't wanna mess with. At that point Vince is a well-respected, even if somewhat elusive, fixer, so he's probably even more dangerous now than he used to be as a mere merc with an arsenal of connections and resources at his disposal that can almost rival Kerry's.

I also gave Kerry a lil new cyberware piece on his hand - he is an old man and I think, using his hands as a musician on the daily, at some point there's just gonna be some wear and tear to your bones and joints only tech can fix anymore... Especially if you're stubborn and refuse to retire cause no, you're not done yet, you still have so much to yell into the world and music to make, stuff to add to your legacy and all.

Last but not least: Nibbles is an old lady already as well here, but living her best life with her dads spoiling her rotten, of course!

And then öalkshjdfagsdföasgdfaösfh ;___;

Y'know, "to bad decisions" and all, and two very different pieces still fitting together perfectly somehow, and light and shadows, and the sun and moon and yeah. ;___; Brb crying, the feels are back xD

Thanks so much for reading if you made it this far!! They mean so much to me and aösdjhfajsfhasfk could go on forever about every little detail xD On to the next drawing!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

tapis rouge groovies + new rhythmic/twistune ✨

***Spoilers below the cut!!***

Ooooh!! As usual, Vil is striking a model-esque pose and showing off not only his own looks, but the best aspects of the ensemble he’s wearing. (If his outfit looks different than how you remembered, it's because Vil gets new sleeves and a cape added on in part 4:)

I like how the lights behind him and on his face are so bright, yet the shot is framed darkly since we’re looking from his shadowed side. It makes Vil look so mysterious!!

He’s holding up a black piece of cloth that seems to glitter; I believe this is “Black of Night”, the signature color of the high fashion house, Luxe, that prepared his and the other NRC boys’ customized outfits. (The name of the color is a reference to an ingredient in the potion the Evil Queen makes to turn into an old lady.) It’s iconic, and only Luxe knows the secrets behind achieving the color of this dye. Many celebrities wear certain brands on the red carpet as free advertisement for the brands they wear, so this makes sense for Vil to be doing as well.

JAMIL 😳 I feel like both he and Azul are helped out a lot by moving in their outfits; the in-game models are a little too stiff-looking to fully convey the elegance of these particular looks. Jamil’s braids are so pretty here, they flow in the wind with such grace!! His expression is also nice, he’s giving the camera a cheeky little smirk from the side…

The shot’s composition is pretty interesting too! Jamil sort of has his arms spread out and his back revealed, and Vil, in front of him, is blocked out by an onlooker/reporter’s elbow. It gives off the impression of Jamil both showing off his coat while also playing bodyguard to Vil. Jamil is a trained bodyguard and can be protective, so… very fitting! Even moreso since Jamil was the card paired with Vil on the limited banner.

Another outfit helped by movement!! You can see how the tailcoats trail behind him and how his jacket’s wide sleeves actually pull/bunch back to allow the green sleeves of his undershirt come out. The light being so prominent on him also highlights his golden frames very well; it’s usually hard to spot small details like this from the model itself so I’m glad we can better appreciate it here!

I love how Azul is soaking up the attention and making the most of it (as opposed to Jamil, who seems to be playing it cool and serious). Smiling and winking for the crowd… Azul stans eating good www He’s even in his usual “poor unfortunate soul, please allow me to assist you” pose 😂 Reeeeeally trying to paint himself in rbe most flattering way possible, eh??

We can see Vil’s head and Jamil’s pants + shoes here. Vil’s the SSR and the star of the show so of course he won’t be left out! Jamil is the other card on the banner that goes with Vil. You can tell it’s Jamil because of the long coat and baggy pants; his shoes are white but appear darker in this illustration probably because of the shadow over them. Ace is not high enough in rarity to cameo in other Groovies/j

Note: Ace is the R card, so his illustration does not change significantly. A shame, really. I like his look the best in this batch 😔 It would have been fun to see what an interpretation on an Ace Groovy would have been!

There is a second rhythmic/twistune that features Vil and co. strutting down the red carpet! There are many cute details in it, such as Vil interacting with his fans by taking selfies with them, giving his signature, and speaking with a reporter.

Jamil and Azul play their parts as "huntsmen" to the Fairest Queen by bringing Vil boxes akin to the one that was meant to contain Snow White's heart.

When Jamil presents Vil with the first box, Vil pulls out his poison apple luxury bag. Then a fog of green covers the screen and when it fades away, Vil is in his new sleeves and cape combo.

Here he is, posing glamorously for the camera! The others do their best to show him off too. (fhbalifiyabifeab Azul is really doing his best to present Vil...)

At the very end, Azul and Ace step up to help Vil with final makeup touch-ups. Jamil seems to spritz him with some perfume too! Then Vil finally ascends to his rightful place up high!! Such a triumphant ending for a super fun rhythmic 🥺

[gunilslaugh]

a small soft drabble of the reader reacting to ot6 changing their hair color!! I thought of it since Gaon changed his hair color again 😭

All members •_ ^ - ^_• Summary: You reacting to Xdinary Heroes' new hair color. (idol au) WC:825 Warning:none

I wasn’t quite sure how to write this, so I'm sorry if it sucks.

photo not mine credits to owner.

Gunil

The door cracks open catching your attention. You turn your head to look at the door from where you’re currently sitting on the couch. In walked Gunil and you immediately notice the different color of his hair. 

“You didn’t tell me you were changing your hair,” you said, standing up from the couch and walking over to Gunil. 

“I wanted to surprise you. How does it look?” He gently looped his arms behind your back. You reach your hands up to inspect the freshly colored strands. “It looks good. I like it,” you say with a smile. 

“And I like you,” he says. 

“What?” you laugh. “I would hope since we’re dating,” you added, still laughing a bit. Gunil smiles. 

“I just wanted to tell you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

Jungsu

“Are you trying out every shade of blonde or what?” you asked, coming up to Jungsu and ruffling his newly dyed hair with your hand. Jungsu laughs, catching your hand in his.

“I’ve had brown and black hair before,” he defended. He pulls your hand away from his head.

“You’re right, but you like blonde the best don’t you?” you checked. 

“I think it looks good on me,” he states. 

“It does, but with your handsome face I think any color would look good on you.” You cup his face in your hands. 

“Don’t exaggerate.” He tried to hide his blush.  

“Yeah, thinking about it, neon orange would be a very hard color to pull off,” you note. 

“Yeah I’m not that bold,” he states. 

“I’d still like you with it though.” You kiss his cheek.

Gaon/Jiseok

“Oh it’s actually dark blue,” you say as Jiseok sat down next to you. “I thought it was black at first,” you tell. 

“Is the blue a disappointment,” he joked. 

“No,” you chuckled. “I think it’s better actually. Like a fun surprise,” you smiled. 

“I thought so too,” he told you. 

“Did you lose a bet or something though?” you questioned. 

“Does it look bad?” He looked at you slightly worried. 

“No. It looks great. I just feel like in Xdinary Heroes you’re the one who dyes their hair unnatural colors the most,” you explained. 

“I’m just the fun one,” he bragged. 

“Well keep being fun then I like it.” You brought your fingers up to play with his blue hair. 

“Whatever you wish.” He leaned into your touch.

O.de/Seungmin

“Why didn’t you tell me we were getting a blonde hair Seungmin,” you say, taking in his lighter colored locks. 

“Cause I’ve been blonde before,” he chuckled. 

“But that was when your peach hair was fading. This is on purpose. It’s different,” you state going over to him to get a better look at his new hair. Seungmin chuckles at your reaction. 

“Well do you like it?” he asked playfully. 

“Yeah I do.” You playfully tickled him with his own hair.

“Stop.” He caught your hand in his, making you pout. “You like playing with my hair that much?” he teased. 

“Mhm, it’s fun,” you say. Seungmin shakes his head, but lets go of your hand, letting you resume playing with his new hair.

Junhan/Hyeongjun

“You have officially gone full emo,” you state aftering seeing Hyeongjun with his long black hair. Hyeongjun softly chuckles at your reaction. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. 

“Nothing, I’ve been waiting for this moment. It suits you so well,” you tell him. 

“Thanks,” he says. 

“Come here. Let me get a closer look,” you waved him over. Hyeongjun can’t help but smile at your excitement about his new hair. 

“Do you like it?” you questioned, looking at his darkened strands. 

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to do it for a while,” he tells you. 

“It looks good. Rockstar vibes,” you say. 

“You mean an emo rockstar?” he joked, making you laugh. 

“Yes, an emo rockstar in the best way possible,” you state. 

“So you think villain’s will like it?” 

“Oh they’re gonna love it.” You nod your head affirmatively. 

Jooyeon

Jooyeon comes and takes a seat beside you at the table and you have to do a double take.

“I did not recognize you for a second,” you laughed. Taking a moment to look at his new hair.

“Wow, you can’t even recognize your own boyfriend?” he says quasi-offended. 

“It’s not my fault I got used to your long hair.” You brush your hand through his now shorter locks. “You dyed it too,” you say. 

“Do I really look that different?” he asked. 

“At first glance yeah, but you still have the same pretty face, so not really,” you squished his cheeks. 

“You have a pretty face too.” He squished your cheeks back. You two sit there like idiots smiling while squishing each other's cheeks.

“Does this mean I get comeback spoilers?” You raised your brow. 

“I don’t know what’s in it for me?” he challenged. 

“Kisses,” you say. 

“Deal.” He smiled brightly.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143

comment or message me to be added!

[amalgamate-exe]

Dye Dye My Darling

IRL's plz dont read ^^

Eli -Hawk- moskowitz x M!reader

This is like my first full fic so enjoy!

~~~~~~

Warnings: Unedited, Earlier series hawk, Flirting some and a whole lot of hair dye.

___________________________

Hawk and you have been dating for about 6 months which would make you the luckiest girl in the entire tri-state area if this was some cheesy rom-com, but alas that's not how life worked out for you two. Unfortunately hard-core Karate kids and of course… kyler wouldn't be so chill with you two together, but that was beside the point. You were sitting with your friends at lunch admiring Hawk from afar Admiring him, the way his liberty spikes stood larger than life, the way his nose crinkled when he was laughing, probably about the Miyagi- do kids, or some new internet video that hasn't become post ironic yet, His cleft lip his-

“Earth to Y/N?” One of your friends ask 

“Hm sorry? Yeah what's up?” you ask still wanting to keep an eye on your boyfriend, you had no reason to stare but he was just… so pretty, like a Greek sculpture with his liberty spikes seeming to tower on forever

“Did you get the answers for number 6 for Math? You’re a nerd and like- Hey are you even listening to me?” Your friend follows your gaze to see “Oh for the love of gods Y/N I understand you want to live out your little romance but how many times do I have to tell you? He’s taken and… no offense, You're not his… his type!” this was almost a weekly conversation at this point, your friends and anyone else just assumed you had a crush on Hawk, but it didn't matter you two had each other and he invited you over to his house to hang out and play Tekken, and maybe… just MAYBE he’d let you dye his hair, his roots were overgrown and his hair was more of a blue-green bleached color rather than the aggressive red or any other color he has had in the past 6 months. 

“Sure thing F/N, anyways here are the answers for the homework,” You say keeping an eye on Hawk. And sliding F/N the answers

The rest of your classes after lunch went by fairly quickly, nothing interesting or notable except that on Friday there would be a huge party at the creek. The final bell rang as you started walking to His house, when you heard the clop-clop of heavy boots on the pavement behind you you turned around and see Hawk 

“Hey! Were you just gonna walk off and leave me back at that hell hole?” He asks giving you a playful nudge in the side

“Oh sorry I figured you wouldn't want to be seen with me, social hierarchy and stuff,” you say with a smirk, understanding the cliques in high school are very important, just like 80’s movies. 

“Not that I don't want to see you! I get like during lunch where you’re playing all stealth, but I love seeing you, I crave you” he says with a smirk as you walk back to his house.

Once you get into his house you both drop your bags and sit on the couch next to each other, you start playing Tekken 7 on his play station, He selects Devil Jin and you select King, as you two start playing and getting into the groove of the game, you decide to pop the question,

“Hey Pigeon~,” You ask in an almost sing-song voice

“yeah, babe?” He asks Lasered focused on the game, some things never change

“I was thinkin’ like your hair is just bleached now all the colors faded out, and I was wondering if I could dye it for you?”

“No way in hell” Responds quick and toneless

“Aww, why not?” You ask attempting to counter His attack and failing miserably 

“Because you're going to mess it up then you made a fool out of both of us! I'll trust you a lot, however my hair dye, my spikes? No one touches those”

“Well, you weren't complaining when I was touching them the other night!” You quickly retort back

“That's– that’s beside the point,” he says slightly flustered “No one touches my hair for upkeep except me!”

“So you're saying that you trust me to give you a PERMANENT tattoo over more or less Temporary hair dye?” You ask with a smirk

“What-? No, that's not what I'm saying at all!” He seems annoyed but that could be because you're beating him at video games rather than you attempting to get permission to dye his hair

“I've been dying my hair since I was like 13 if anyone knows anything I do. Also, would you rather have a little purple on your forehead or the weird half-blond green with roots you have going on now?”

He thinks for a moment as he hits a combo on you, the TV plays a little sound and goes “Player 2 WINS!” 

“Wanna know what, Fine, you can dye my hair ONCE” and if you fuck it up you will have to be the one who goes out to buy black box dye to fix it, AND deal?”

You smile and steal a kiss “Deal” 

You guys go to his bathroom and he changes into his hair-dye shirt, 

“Can't you just be topless?”

“No! You're going to be messing with MY hair. I don't need your eyes somewhere they shouldn't be!” 

“Oh sure! I'm the one ogling you when your shirt is off, I swear if you think i'm bad you should SEE your teammates when you take off your Gi top”

“Well last time I checked, I wasn't taking my teammates to bed with me” he responds with a smirk as he takes the bright Red hair dye bottle from under the sink and hands it over to you, then he kisses you on your cheek, “Ok now don't make me regret letting you do this… ok”|

“Fine” 

After you start mixing the dye and put on gloves you start applying the dye to his head,

“Are you sure you didn't forget a step?” he asks with a smirk as you apply the dye to his hair

“Well if I did it's too late now… here my phone is in my pocket. play some music” You shift your weight so he can take your phone out of your pocket and he plays something, the noise of chiptune and 8-bit music fills the room, it is lively in its way 

“Hey this is kinda good what is it?” you ask about halfway done slopping (painting) on the red pigment to his hair

“You're not gonna believe me,” he says with a smirk

“Oh come on, you've seen my taste in music at times, this is good, what is it?” 

“It may or may not be the undertale soundtrack by Toby Fox?” he says almost embarrassed, which causes you to burst out laughing

“God pigeon, no matter how much of a karate badass you are, you're still a nerd at heart… I could kiss you right now” 

“Now now, focus on my hair, need your blood in your brain…’ he looks you up and down “Other places,” he says smirking and giving you that damned look of flirtation 

“You know you’re making dying your hair seem like way more of an in-depth process than it is… also for your hair being bleached so many times it's still soft” You liked the conversation also the silence no matter how long you've been together still felt off-putting, he smiles 

“Thanks the hair dye I use has some conditioner property or something, also I use a shit load of conditioner you know it couldn't damage your hair too much if you wanted to dye your hair too” he was just straight flirting with you now but he seemed genuine with his offer causing you to blush, a lot 

“That doesn't sound like a ‘no’ to me, c’mon we can match,” he says with a smirk that you could never say no to. The way his cheeks moved, the way his-

“Hey space cadet, can I dye your hair while mine is setting?” He asks while he's turning his head making sure every bit of the hair is saturated with the crimson dye’

“Yeah, that would be nice… though you better not fuck it up,” you say playfully.

Once you are done dying your hair and rinsing it out, the bathtub looks like a murder scene, with red dye along the bathtub and partially up the wall

“Holy shit your mom is going to kill me!” You say looking back at the mess you've made, hair dripping in front of your eyes, which causes Eli to scoff

“She's fine with it, who do you think took me to buy the dye in the first place? It just needs some TLC and it’ll all be good, baby” He says in a playful tone of voice while wrapping his arms around your waist. “The red streak looks cute on you too,” he says kissing your cheek, it feels nice his hands around your waist, and you lean more into him 

“Hey since you don't have to get going for a few more hours, wanna watch a movie? Something cheesy like clueless or… 10 things I hate about you?” He shrugs holding you close

“Both sound perfect”

[vxiphoid]

ARTIST’S CANVAS

❨ summary ❩ twst › when you look at a pretty blank canvas, its only natural you’d want to turn it into something more breathtaking.

tags ✧ fluff; lower case writing.

amanuensis’ message ⊹ 10 months, not a single written fic. i am so sorry yall

⌜ 0.4+ ⌟

♫ spin you round — rocco.

twst masterlist

“s’cold.”

the dark—almost black—paste coating leona’s hand in intricate designs setting on his skin mixed with the warmth of your hands around his felt funny. the paste was a drastic contrast upon his tawny skin. on occasion, he’d let your creative mind take over and draw on him with any writing utensil that was nearby. in class, it’d give him an excuse not to pay attention and in his dorm, your lap to sleep while you worked. half of the time when you were finished, he considered getting another tattoo, snapping a picture when you looked away just in case it faded. not once had he thought of a temporary tattoo.

the first thing that came to mind when he thought of temporary were the ones on paper that you’d transfer with water. ones that he’d slap on his body to look cool as a kid. the same ones that’ll start peeling the moment you brush it wrong. this was a completely different method than what he was thinking. a creamy consistency of dye in a piping bag. henna. it rolled off the tongue as smooth as its application.

a light laugh leaves your lips at his comment, pausing to give him a quick glance. he looked like a cat watching a ping pong match. you don’t think you’ve ever seen his pupils this large and his slowly swaying tail certainly wasn’t helping the comparison.

leona watched in silent interest as you worked. It had to be something about your hands. How your pinky stayed out for stabilization, how carefully you held his hand as if you’d break it if you moved him a certain way. then again, he could also blame that on the amount of focus you had. they moved with practiced grace, your emerald-green painted nails glinting under the golden lamp light.

his sheets were littered with various templets and stencils complicated, simple, and some in the middle. he didn’t look at everything before he chose his. he didn’t exactly care what you put on him as long as that pretty little head of yours was having some semblance of fun, those talented hands of yours.

his ear flicks. “what color is this again?”

you take a moment to pull his hand closer to the light when it came down to the finer details. “regular old brown. it might look a little reddish in the sun though.”

“neon?”

you scoff out a laugh. “gods, no. way more subtle.”

even after you had laughed, your smile stayed—as heartwarming and raw as ever. like a sweetener in a cup of coffee he could never get tired to drinking or the smell of gas he found a guilt pleasure. gods, he wanted to hear it again.

maybe being a living, plain canvas wasn’t so bad. as long as it was you painting the blank spots needing filled.

[scekrex]

Hey could you by chance do an Adam x reader who dies their hair all the time? Like one month they have blue hair, the next it's pink, then black, then red, and there's no real way to tell what color is next besides maybe a "I think people with *insert hair color here* look super cool", thanks and have an amazing day/night!

I fucking got you, as someone who used to dye his hair every 4-6 weeks, I feel reader's vibe

Pretty Boy Swag

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“Adam,” you called out for your boyfriend from the bathroom. It only took him a few seconds to open the door and lean against the door frame, his arms were crossed over his chest and the look in his eyes was critical. Even though he was very much enjoying the view of you sitting there only dressed in boxer shorts in order not to mess up any clothes.

In annoyance he sighed, “What color this time?” Like don't get him wrong, he didn't mind that you dyed your hair regularly, he thought it was fucking badass, but he didn't like helping you because no matter how careful he was, he would always get that fucking hair dye on his skin and it would take days to fade. Your lips curled into a playful smirk as you put on your gloves and squirted some dye onto your plastic covered palm. “First bleaching, then purple,” you replied. Adam's eyes flickered up to look at the faded neon green that your hair currently was and decided that purple sounded like a fucking great upgrade. “Alright, gimme the gloves,” he continued to act all annoyed as he stepped closer. The brunette stopped behind you and took the gloves you held up to him. Once his hands were safe, he took the bottle with bleach inside from you. Bleach was fine, it burned a little in his eyes and it smelled absolutely horrible, but bleach didn't stain his hands for days so he could live with that. As long as none of it got onto his or your wings, that was.

The bit of bleach that you had squeezed onto your hand you roughly applied, only for Adam to bat your hand away, “You want me to help so you're gonna sit fucking still and let me do my fucking thing.” He would never admit that he secretly enjoyed your little hair dying sessions. It was relaxing, really. “So why purple?” the first man hummed as he made sure the bleach covered every inch of your hair. “Y’know, because extermination is in a couple days and your battle robe is mainly purple so,” you shrugged as you watched Adam through the mirror in front of you, “So you thought it would be a nice fucking match, huh?” he finished for you. “Damn right. Whatcha think?”

Adam thought about it for a moment, “Do you have golden dye?” You raised an eyebrow at that, curious on what his plans were. “Yeah, in the back of the cabinet is a bit of leftover gold, why?” Adam however, completely ignored your question and continued to cover your hair in bleach silently.

Once he was done the two of you decided to order food and something while the bleach was working its magic. A thing Adam didn't calculate was that the food would take some time to arrive so when it did, it was already time to wash out the chemicals. So instead of immediately eating, you two went back into the bathroom to finish your job.

“So you gonna tell me what you need that for? I asked for purple, not gold,” you were about to complain but Adam pushed you down on your shoulders until you were sitting on the chair you had placed there before you had started to mix the bleach. “Split dye babes, if you wanna match colors, we're gonna do it fucking right.” You liked the way he thought. So he used the golden hair dye on the left and the purple on the right side. Once the color was applied, the two of you finally got to eat.

“Remind me to let you pick my hair color every now ‘n’ then, big guy, because fuck you have taste,” you mumbled with a mouth full of sushi and a shit eating grin on your lips. “Did you ever doubt that?” his voice was playful as he raised an eyebrow at you, a silent challenge. “Maybe, I mean gold and purple? C’mon, that's clearly a you-thing.” If he could, he would've tackled you and wrestled you down onto the floor, pinning you down. But he couldn't because that would cause a fucking mess, not only on the floor but also on your head. So he didn't.

-

Well at least until you had washed it out, because the second you had turned off the sink, he wrapped his hands around your waist, lifted you up just to carry you on his shoulders like a large bag of potatoes. “The fuck?” you squeaked in surprise as Adam carried you out of the bathroom and right into your bedroom. “Adam my hair's still fucking wet!” Not that he cared. He dropped you onto the soft mattress and leaned over you within a blink and for a tiny moment you felt dizzy by how quick he had moved. “Shush bitchboy, you look absolutely fucking glorious and I take that as my sign to fuck you stupid.”

[unidentifiedmammal]

Alrighty so this is the post on lichen dyes!

this particular bath of lichen dyes was originally started over a year ago scraping a tentatively-ID'd lecanora and/or ochrolechia genus lichen off of a fallen branch (remember, don't gather lichen when it's still growing! it's very slow growing and easy to overharvest)

to start off, this particular type of dye is made through the ammonia-fermentation method, also known as ammonia maceration. No actual bacterial fermentation occurs though. Rather, the compound orcinol (and precursor compound to orcinols) react with ammonia (N2) and oxygen to form the compound orcein (also called orchil/archil) which is what makes the final dye!

this process takes anywhere from 3 weeks to 16+ weeks depending on the lichen species, its constituent acids, the temperature, and the frequency of aeration.

This batch was set aside for several months and neglected a good bit, but it still works. I strained out the crumbled lichens (which i set aside for later) and diluted it 1:4 as instructed by a very good book called Lichen Dyes: The New Source Book by Karen Diadick Casselman. This book is basically omnipresent everywhere you see lichen dyes mentioned, especially the orcein-based dyes. I also used several websites/videos/papers and such that i've hunted down over various internet crawls.

I use an old coffee pot for this as it's both a non-reactive material (glass) and is built to withstand heat. Ironically i also scraped the lichens off the branch using a tool i made out of a metal band from the broken handle of this same coffee pot!

I decided to dye some eri silk cakes that i fluffed up and scoured. these have been very good at absorbing dye in the past so i would hopefully get a good result from them. As lichens are a substantive dye i don't have to put a mordant on them, but i did soak them in an alum solution just before adding them to the dye bath to hopefully maximize dye uptake as well as improve fastness as lichen dyes are also fugitive and can fade in sunlight.

Substantive dyes contain mordants already embedded in them; fugitive dyes are a bit fuzzy to me but my understanding is they end up trapped in the fiber instead of actually bonding to the fiber in a stronger way. Mordants are used to help the dye "bite" onto the fiber better, improving both fastness (the ability of a due to resist fading from sunlight/washing/time) and the brightness of a color. Alum is useful in that it typically doesn't affect the end color of a dye more than simply making it slightly more strong!

it was pretty successful i'd say! i warmed up the dyebath, added the silk, let it simmer for a few hours, let it cool down overnight, and then warmed it back up the next day for a few hours; then, when it cooled, i took it out, let it dry, then rinsed it, and let it dry a second time. At that point, it was ready for spinning!

It was a lovely pink color that's not fully captured by the camera like most dyes, and eri silk is lovely because you can spin the clouds directly and easily without carding and make lovely relatively threadlike yarn

this was the first skein i got! i love how shiny the silk is. Some dyes can get really purple or even magenta-like!

next, i had the leftover lichens that i had set aside. They were a crumbly texture and dark black and i dried them out, crushed them up more, set them back in a jar, added more ammonia and water, and did the ammonia fermentation method a second time! this was after reading about the method for making french purple, and while this is definitely a very pale imitation of the method, the double-soak is the key feature here

here it is (on the left); it was already way darker purple than an in-progress lichen dye i had yet to crack open and use

speaking of which, heres a shot of various test lichens i had while working on this, you can see the blue-capped jar that has the second-soaked lichens. the foam will often give a preview of whether or not the dye will be red/purple or not!

Here it is, i forget how long i let it soak but i think it was a bit over a week. i strained the material out, diluted it, and then repeated the same warm/cool/warm/cool/dry/rinse/dry method with more eri silk

And below you can see the difference, it's definitely slight but still cool!

the left is from the original dyebath, the right is the second-soaked one. the first one is more salmon-colored while the second is a tad more blue-purpled!

I'm extremely excited about this, these dyes have such a fascinating history and have multiple historical uses everywhere from florentine orchil to norwegian korkje to scottish cudbear and more, and it was often used in tandem with the roman murex/tyrian purple dyes that come from a mussel. Some folks used the lichens to pre-dye the fabric before dyeing with tyrian purple, both to stretch the expensive tyrian purple and to make the end color more vibrant. It's all such a great topic that's mightily confusing and could take up a post of its own, same with the underlying chemistry of what makes these dyes work in the first place!

Anyways that's all for this post, i have more i'm working on involving actually turning these dyes into paint that i'll hopefully turn into a post on its own soon! I've also got other lichen dyes I'm waiting to get through the ammonia fermentation process that will hopefully give other colors, whenever that may be!

[scarletcomalies]

bigger than the whole sky

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count: 5,438

Warnings: Angst, unspecified legal age gap. This is pretty much about Natasha being mourned over and remembered as she deserves. What better day to post than on her birthday?

On December 3rd, you recalled all the wonderful memories you had created with your partner.

June 18th, 2019

Half of humanity was gone.

Each day, you woke up to a world where the sun shone as brightly as ever, permitting the shadow of loss to darken every corner of the souls of the survivors of the Thanos blip. The familiar warmth faded, replaced by only a deep melancholy at the memory of what everyday life used to be. In the blink of an eye, your loved ones vanished, leaving you with the agony of their absence.

You were lost and desolate. You longed deeply to experience just a glimpse of everything you once took for granted, like calling your mother after a long day, hearing the murmurs of people at the coffee shop, or receiving a funny video from your best friend. Just something...

But nothing.

Word of mouth, you heard about a support group that Steve Rogers was leading. The world had become so vast, that breathing the same air as Captain America, with the Black Widow at your side, was no longer an unthinkable madness that would happen only in the most delusional mind. It was a reality.

There you were, realizing that you also had something in common with heroes of international stature. When they weren't all over the news, fighting right-handed in their intimidating suits, they were simply human beings who also wanted to be heard from time to time. They too had a right to break down.

"I..." you looked up, once it was your turn to speak. All eyes were looking at you expectantly, and Natasha Romanoff's eyes on you made your task more difficult. "Well, the barista at the coffee shop I go to informed me about this, uhm.... I'm (Y/N)."

"Hi, (Y/N)," those present responded in unison. The raspy voice of the woman next to you somehow resonated more in your ears than any other. What a woman. Not for nothing had you become interested in the news, only to see her fight so bravely. You always considered her a beautiful woman, and above all, a powerful one.

The only three friends you had always teased you about your crush on the Black Widow. And this alone made you feel worse. They would have loved to see you all flushed and nervous like you were at that moment.

"I remember hating crowds. People rushing around at all hours, often pushing and shoving," you began, looking down at the ground as you fiddled with your hands. "I hated the voices. Sometimes it was so loud that, between them all, they sounded like a swarm of angry bees," some had the strength to only half-smile at your silly analogy, others were unfazed.

Natasha's resilience turned out to be greater than you imagined, she demonstrated it on multiple occasions, but you experienced it live and in full color when she specifically let out a distinguished laugh. It echoed throughout the room, you could hear it loud and clear.

"I know, it was annoying." you said softly, directing your first words specifically towards the redhead, who by the way had a bit of blonde on the ends of her hair, indicating that the dye was fading. It looked beautiful on her. "Anyway," you redirected your attention to the others again. "I know a lot of people here hated that noise. We'd put on headphones so we didn't have to listen to anyone," you continued, and earned a nod of agreement from everyone present. "Well, now, I put my headphones on and play audio of people talking. I never thought I'd miss this, or that I'd miss being constantly pushed around, the voice of an annoying customer I have to deal with at work. Besides, everything is slowing down, nobody lives in a hurry anymore, and... well, I think you understand," you let out a nervous chuckle. You had no intention of rambling on too much about it, or you were never going to stop.

"Thanks for sharing," Steve said, giving you a small smile, that smile where he pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows.

Once the meeting was over, you let out a small sigh, grabbed your stuff and headed for the exit.

A voice stopped you as you stood on the other side of the door, causing you to turn and meet again those green eyes that looked so much more beautiful in person. Neither magazine pictures nor news cameras could capture that wonderful pair.

"I just wanted to ask you, if it's not too invasive," she spoke, as soon as you turned around. "Do you have anyone to talk to? Outside of this group, I mean."

"Anyone close? No," you answered honestly. It was the truth. Being highly selective had its consequences, as you were unlucky enough to lose your very few close loved ones; your three best friends, your mother, your aunt and your grandfather. Some family members, previous friends and even exes with whom you cut ties tried to reconnect, but the phrase 'better alone than in bad company' never applied better than in this case. "But if you're talking in general terms, even the person in line at the supermarket can be your confidant and support. You can imagine what it's like."

"I know," she agreed, and thought for a moment before adding, "In supermarkets, products expire before anyone buys them, but it's a good thing, it's an excuse to buy more snacks so they don't go to waste."

You let out a laugh. A full, genuine laugh, and wow... it was the first time in the last year that someone had made you laugh like that. It was a silly joke, yes, but in the midst of so much monotony, the spontaneity was a gift she gave you.

December 3rd, 2023

"You were in fact the only person who made me laugh," you barely managed to formulate the last words before you burst into tears for the fifth time.

Natasha would be turning 39. You both knew that aging was anything but a bad thing, yet she enjoyed ironically saying that she was getting old, even if it was far from the truth. She had no childhood, no adolescence. The concept of old age seemed the most comforting to her.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, and to swallow your tears. You were talking to a piece of marble with her name carved on it, and you knew that meters underneath there wasn't even a body to mourn over, but you had to let it all out one way or another.

"Happy 39th birthday, my love," you whispered, smiling faintly. "I guess your wish came true. You stayed 38 forever."

December 3rd, 2020

"Oh, my wish is to stay 36 forever!" Natasha exclaimed, with a broad smile, and then blew out the candles on the mini cake you had bought her.

You laughed along with her.

Laughing seemed impossible until she showed up a year and a half ago in your life at that support group. Now laughing seemed as easy as breathing.

You wondered if, somehow, you would have met Natasha. She was a very famous woman, unattainable to everyone including you. The possibility of having lived a life without her terrified you, so much so that it was the first time you were actually grateful that the blip had happened, because it made it possible for her to be sitting on the couch next to you, spending her birthday morning with you after making her her favorite breakfast.

"Oh, come on, Nat," you laughed, as you placed the cake on the coffee table, and started pouring the wine. "You age like this fine wine. I imagine how divine you'll look in your 40s, in your 50s... don't take that away from me," you spoke seriously, as if the candles really did have the power to fulfill her wishes.

She laughed loudly, and took the glass of wine you gave her, "38 is the most I'm willing to age. It is my final offer."

You rolled your eyes playfully, and raised your glass, "Very well. To your penultimate year of aging. Cheers!"

The rest of the morning, and part of the afternoon was spent lazying on the couch, marathoning romantic comedies from the 90s and early 2000s.

Until the clock struck 5:00 p.m., it was one hour before Natasha's adoptive parents arrived, and the nervousness was starting to hit you.

"My love, it's time to get off the couch and get ready," you spoke, pausing the Julia Roberts movie 'Eat, Pray, Love'.

"Ughhhh!" She protested, covering herself up to her head with the blanket resting on top of you both. Said blanket was perhaps twice the size of the two of you, and perhaps three times as heavy. It was the best weapon against the December cold.

"Nat, I don't want your parents to find us in penguin pajamas and ugly sweaters," you laughed, shaking her gently. "I want to make a good first impression. Come on!"

"You're overthinking," she replied, resting her head in your lap, under the blanket. "They won't mind your outfit, and believe me, they'll love you."

You sighed lightly.

"I hope so," you replied, scratching her hair with your fingertips. "I'm much younger than you, and I don't want them to think I'm immature, or..."

"Alexei still insists on wearing his superhero costume, even though it looks tiny on him," Natasha interrupted you, before your head wandered. "Maturity is something that doesn't exist in my family, you take it easy."

You laughed a little, and that little anecdote was enough to give you significant relief. If Natasha said you'd be fine, then it was true.

The redhead was somewhat reserved when it came to her family.

You understood that she wanted to be sure that it was going to be something long and meaningful before she let you into that sacred side of her life, so it wasn't a year and a half after you met her that you finally would get to know the famous Melina and Alexei. You felt more than privileged to know that your relationship with her had already reached that point.

She also always mentioned her little sister Yelena, whom she had lost to the blip. You wished you could have met that other brave soul who destroyed Dreykov and his entire twisted organization, saving thousands of girls and women around the world.

"Well..." she said, suddenly getting up from your lap, as she pulled back the blanket. Afterwards, she planted a quick kiss on your lips. "I need a few minutes to mentally prepare myself and get out of here. Get in the shower and then I'll join you."

Within forty-five minutes, both of you were fully dressed and ready to welcome Melina and Alexei to Natasha's apartment.

The table was set with a white tablecloth, four plates with their respective cutlery and glasses. In the middle was the previously started wine and a bottle of soda that was a little wet, as it had just been taken out of the fridge five minutes before. The older woman's parents would bring takeout dinner and cake, so the table was ready just to serve the food and eat.

Punctually, at 6:00 p.m., you heard the doorbell ring.

You took a deep breath, and together with Natasha, you headed for the door.

Naturally, she was the first to greet them and pull them into a heartwarming embrace, which was somewhat clumsy because it was obstaclized by the bags of food in Melina's hands and the box of cake in Alexei's right arm. You stood there, watching the scene feeling both tenderness and nervousness, because your girlfriend's parents were finally standing in front of you.

The redhead took the cake and a bag of food, and with her head pointed in your direction, "This is (Y/N), (Y/N), this is Melina and Alexei."

With a gentle smile, you waved at them, "It's very nice to meet you, Miss Vostokoff, and Mister Shostakov."

"Oh, let's drop the formalities, c'mere!" Alexei exclaimed, and held out his arms to wrap you in a tight embrace.

You let out a giggle, and accepted his offer. He squeezed you and you let out a playful groan of complaint. Melina, laughing as you did, hugged you once the man released you, however, she was gentler and briefer, concluding it with a rub on your back.

"Please call us by our names," she spoke. "Natasha has talked so much about you that you're not even a stranger. So we don't want to be strangers to you either."

You looked at Natasha, and she smiled broadly, having also enjoyed the scene at your first meeting with her parents.

"Very well," you chuckled. "Please, let me help you with this," you offered, pointing to the single bag she was carrying.

"Oh, thank you," she agreed, passing you the bag.

You and Natasha placed the two bags on the table, and the cake on the kitchen counter.

"Beer?" Natasha offered to Alexei.

"Oh, please!" he exclaimed, sitting down on one of the chairs next to Melina. Across from both of them, Natasha and you would sit.

You heard the sound of two bottles being uncorked, and Natasha was the last to join the table, handing one bottle to Alexei and both of them toasting and then taking a big sip.

The dinner went wonderfully.

Natasha was right, her parents were easy-going and funny, each in their own way. Alexei always had a joke on the tip of his tongue, and Melina, though calmer than him, laughed lightly and added to the joke just to make you all laugh. At the end of the evening, when they bid their fond farewells, you completely forgot how nervous you felt a few hours earlier. They were enchanted with you and the feeling was mutual.

A small meow was heard about a minute after Natasha's parents left, and she stepped forward, opening the window to reveal the black cat sitting on the stairs. Liho always wandered around her building, but Natasha's floor was her favorite due to the redhead always giving her food and treats. She was a very easy cat to love, and it didn't take long for her to grow on Natasha, so she was unofficially adopted by her.

"Sorry, Liho," she said, caressing behind her ears. "You were late. There will be no food for the unpunctual."

"Hey, don't be mean," you teased, reaching up to stroke the cat's cheek. She happily bowed her head, receiving your affection.

"I'm kidding," she let out a giggle, and headed for the kitchen. From there, she pulled out one of the cans of cat tuna she always bought for the feline. Once she placed it in a plate on the floor, the cat ran in her direction and didn't hesitate to devour the dish, making you both laugh. "Oh, thank you so much for coming to visit me for my birthday, little one. You're adorable."

You walked in Natasha's direction, and wrapped your arms around her waist. One thing you loved about her was that, no matter by what kind of physical contact you manifested your love for her, the older woman always seemed to melt at your touch.

"Stay another night," she whispered, entwining your hands in hers and then kissing them.

It was the fifth night in a row she had said that to you. No problem, though, it wasn't the first time it had happened, so you prepared yourself beforehand and packed more clothes to stay with her as long as you both wanted.

"Yes, I have another change of clothes..." you replied. "I think at this point, I'll have more clothes here than at home."

She turned to meet your gaze, and glanced at your lips briefly to lean in and kiss you gently. You, likewise, melted at any action of your girlfriend, and the taste of her lips never failed to delight you immensely.

"Move in with me," she was quick to say, resting her forehead against yours. "Let's find a nice house, let's officially adopt Liho, hell, let's adopt a kid when we're ready. I want everything with you."

December 3rd, 2023

"Did you enjoy your time with Grandma Melina?" You asked the little girl walking beside you in the direction of the car.

"Very much! She taught me some fighting techniques, and then we tried them on Grandpa Alexei," she replied, and you laughed at her statement. "He went down like a sack of potatoes."

Alissa Grace Romanoff.

A girl you and Natasha adopted when she was four years old. Now, at six, you were increasingly amazed at how smart, strong and determined she was, showing an interest in being like her mother but also possessing an artistic sensitive side.

"Did you leave my drawing with mom?" She asked, once you placed her in the back seat of the car and buckled her in.

The little girl remembered Natasha fondly, and longed for her with all her heart. Fortunately, she was at an age where she was more likely to remember more, and you would keep her memory alive in her mind.

You and Natasha worked hard to give her the best memories, so that her childhood was something she looked back on with fondness and happiness, unlike your girlfriend, who couldn't do the same and always avoided to think in the slighest about the matter.

"Of course I did, I left her your drawing and the beautiful flowers you suggested," you confirmed, kissing her small forehead and then heading to the driver's seat.

You needed some time alone in the cemetery every time you visited your girlfriend, even more so on this day. On the one visit where you took your daughter, you broke down to such an extent that she ended up crying a lot more than she initially was.

Knowing that holding back wasn't the best way to go, you preferred to go alone and vent properly. It hadn't even been two months since October 16th, so there were still times when you cried to the point where you couldn't get up from the floor. And when you finally did, your eyes were so swollen that you had to go home and wash your face so that they would look better so as not to worry the little girl.

Melina and Alexei insisted that you visit Natasha first, and as always, they were more than happy to spend time with their granddaughter. Since you got up early, knowing that you would take your sweet time, you returned early as well, so that they would also have their space on this day to visit their beloved daughter.

The day passed quietly.

You bought some lunch, and both of you ate while watching 'Tangled' for the thousandth time, but this movie ended up being background noise, as your daughter continued to tell you about how Merlina did her combat technique demonstrations and Alexei was the 'brave volunteer' who would attack her, even if he wasn't volunteering or brave at all.

At 5 p.m., you sat next to Alissa at the coffee table in the living room, and opened her maths book. She had an assignment to complete a page of two-digit addition problems, and although it was due on Friday, she was always allowed to do it on Sunday afternoons.

You preferred her to do it as soon as possible so she could spent the whole weekend freely with no pending homework, but well, the habit of leaving it until last minute stuck with you because Natasha was a little bit of a softie.

October 30th, 2022

You heard the loud sound of falling metal, causing you to startle and wake up in alarm.

Natasha was not in your bed, and that increased your concern. Maybe it was a thief, a spy, an enemy of Natasha's who broke into the house...

But when you ran to see the source of the sound, you found Natasha in the kitchen, and Alissa sitting at the counter. They both looked in your direction, and smiled innocently.

"We didn't mean to wake you, detka," Natasha spoke, and you noticed the silver bowl in the dishwasher, the one that previously fell and woke you up, nearly giving you a heart attack.

"Oh, what's wrong?" You asked, your eyes half open. The clock on the microwave read one in the morning.

"I went to get a glass of water, and mom was reading in the living room," Alissa explained. "I couldn't sleep, and neither could she."

"So we made Halloween-themed cupcakes," Natasha concluded, pointing with her head towards the oven, whose dim light gave you a view of the cupcakes baking inside it.

You laughed at Natasha's solution, and were deeply touched as well. Any other parent would have made their kid a glass of milk, read a story, or accompanied their child until they fell back asleep, but your girlfriend decided to keep her awake and make Halloween cupcakes.

"I suppose you'll write a note saying that Alissa won't be going to school," you deduced, knowing the redhead very well.

She nodded.

Your daughter didn't even have to pretend to be sick to miss school, she just had to say she didn't want to go and Natasha would melt at her puppy eyes and let her stay home. As much as you hated to be the boring one, you had to set certain boundaries, however, your efficient communication with both of them always led to an agreement without making you look like the bad one. So, if Alissa went to school, on the way home you would stop for ice cream or go to the park.

But of course, this was an occasion where there was no choice but to agree to skip school, otherwise Alissa would be sleepy all day.

"All right, let's start working on the toppings, shall we?" You said with a wide smile.

December 3rd, 2023

"These crayons that Aunt Yelena gave me have very good pigmentation," Alissa commented, as she ran the brownish-red crayon over the white sheet of paper.

You laughed at the use of words. Somehow, she always managed to learn new words and use them appropriately. Little things you noticed and loved about your daughter.

"Oh, the 500 color box she brought from her last mission's trip? What are you drawing?" You asked, looking up from your book to pay attention to her. However, she was quick to cover her work with her arms.

"You can see when I'm done," she established.

Whenever she did the tedious math homework, Alissa redirected her attention to her drawings. She always knew that after working hard, she deserved to do something she enjoyed afterwards. No one told her, she just knew it was the right thing to do, and you were going to fight to death with anyone who dared make her believe otherwise.

Yelena could be considered the world-traveling aunt, except for the fact that it wasn't for fun and more for the purposes of freeing brainwashed Black Widows.

And when she was in town, your daughter would always come back with her sugar at 110% because her Aunt Yelena spoiled her with exaggerated doses of sweets, after taking her to the amusement park or the movies. You had difficulty putting her to sleep, because it was 9 p.m. and Alissa kept running around the house even though you begged her in every possible way that it was time to go to sleep.

So, while she was at the coffee table drawing, you were on the couch with Liho lounging in the other single recliner, taking her fifth nap of the day. The little black cat was no exception when it came to missing Natasha, constantly climbing on the bed on the side that used to be where she slept, meowing as if she was wondering where that nice redhead she used to visit in her apartment had gone.

Cats were transcendental beings, and you wondered if during her naps, she really did have astral travels where she could meet your girlfriend without worrying about the planes of existence that she could easily visit with zero effort.

You had your legs covered by the same blanket that once also kept your girlfriend warm on these cold days, and how she used to sneak under it to lie on your lap or to tease you by placing her cold hands under your shirt.

"I'm done," Alissa said after a few minutes. "It's mom."

You took the drawing delicately, as if it were a work that required the touch of cautious hands only, almost as if a very abrupt movement would fade the work captured on paper.

You watched carefully.

It was Natasha, but she did not have her reddish hair with blonde ends as your daughter had known her, but was from years ago, and you wondered if the girl had come across more pictures besides the ones hanging on the wall.

"Ah, here she has long curly hair. You portrayed her beautifully, honey," you complimented her, a nostalgic smile plastered on your face. "There was a time when her hair was like that, actually."

"I know," she admitted. "Mom told me she was just working for S.H.I.E.L.D back then and that's how she met Iron Man, pretending to be Natalie Rushman, a new assistant. That was the start of this whole Avengers adventure."

"Oh, yes..." you let out a chuckle. "Who told you that? Aunt Yelena?"

"No, mom told me."

"Ah, mom told you... when?"

"Last night, last night I dreamed about her," Alissa replied, so casually that it seemed to surprise her no longer. At first, she woke up crying, saying she hated the reality, and wished it wasn't a dream. However, over the days she began to relate it as if it were a regular occurrence. "We were in my room, and she saw my drawing wall. She asked me to draw her this way too, because she misses her long hair," she added. "Oh, and she also told me that birthday candles actually grant wishes. Because she once wished she was 36 forever, but she negotiated with you and it ended up being 38."

You tensed your jaw, and you mewed all the way in while making a superhuman effort not to burst into tears right there.

You had these recurring dreams of Natasha, mostly where she would tell you how proud she was of how you kept going for yourself and your daughter every day. In another, which was the day you met Yelena, the same night, you dreamed she asked you about how you liked her. In all the dreams she told you that she loved you and Alissa, and that sooner or later, she would find a way to get back to you.

"I'll find a way back," she said. "In the meantime, remember that love transcends time and space. We love each other, that's all we need to stay together more than ever."

Your daughter had similar dreams, with the difference being that many of them were just about the two of them spending time together like they used to.

You knew that Natasha healed her inner child through activities with Alissa. She might have looked mature and tough on the outside, but on the inside, she loved spending time with her little girl and at the same time giving the little Natasha living inside her all those experiences she was deprived of.

You thought you were going crazy and delusional, and that these dreams were just your subconscious going to great lengths to offer comfort and protect you and Alissa from pain.

But, it was not possible for Alissa to know that, as it happened long before she was adopted. That little anecdote you never mentioned it to a single soul, and neither did Natasha, otherwise it would have been brought up long before. Besides, your daughter wasn't a liar. And there was no way for her to know this.

There was just no way for her to know.

"You know, mom told me that, as long as we love her, she can transcend space and time, and be here, even if it's not on the physical plane like we are," you spoke finally, your voice failing to sound steady. Still, you didn't try harder. Natasha taught you in that support group when you first met her that even the strongest heroes had a right to break.

"Like she does when she visits me," Alissa concluded, smiling excitedly. "I know it's not my head or my imagination. I know it's her."

March 2nd, 2023

"I know it's you, mom!"

"No, who's your mom? I'm Rapunzel," Natasha said, in a high-pitched voice, far from her raspy tone.

She looked adorable in that blonde wig that came down to her heels, the purple dress and the makeup you did before your daughter arrived at the park where she would be having her very first surprise birthday party. Natasha insisted on dressing up instead of hiring an impersonator, because that way it would be more special and a nicer memory that her daughter would look back on in a few years.

"And I am, Flynn Ryder!" Steve came out from behind a tree, with his hair styled like said character, and a costume that also closely resembled, he even had that cross-body bag around his torso.

"That is you, Uncle Steve," she paused. "Oh, but I don't need a princess when my mom is a hero!" The little girl ran from her seat, and hugged Natasha's legs, who with a pout and teary eyes, lifted her off the floor and hugged her tightly.

That scene caused your eyes to glaze over as well, and as you looked around at everyone present, you realized you weren't the only one.

Steve, Clint, Melina, Alexei... everyone was touched. Everyone close to Natasha knew very well what it meant to her to have been given the opportunity to be a mother despite her past and unavailability to get pregnant, and watching the amazing job she was doing would warm up even the coldest heart.

"Hey! What about me?" Steve exclaimed, feigning offense at Alissa's exclusion.

"You too!" The little girl extended her arm in his direction, inviting him to join in the embrace.

Natasha then extended her free arm in your direction, and you didn't know how or at what point, but suddenly everyone present was enveloped in a group hug. Even Alexei ended up joining despite his previous rivalry with Steve. It was something everyone definitely needed.

"Okay, darling, let's pretend you don't know it's us and let us perform the act we prepared," Natasha spoke, and the little girl laughed at the silly impression of Rapunzel and Flynn Ryder your girlfriend and Steve had prepared for this special ocassion.

December 3rd, 2023

"We will be here when you come back, my love," you whispered with your forehead leaning against Natasha's, after pulling stay from a passionate kiss.

"Don't worry yourself. Clint and I will go to another planet, collect one of the Infinity Stones and be back in literally a minute," was the last sentence Natasha directed towards you, very confident that those words would be the truth.

"Damn you, Natalia!" You exclaimed, throwing your phone towards the floor of your room, so hard that you wouldn't be surprised if it broke.

It wasn't the best idea to end this day looking at old pictures; of your first dates with Natasha, of when you moved in together with Liho, and of the day you adopted Alissa, among thousands of other memories frozen through photograph.

You were drowning in your own tears again like every night, after Alissa was already sound asleep in her room to hear you.

It was a routine where you fell asleep after draining it all away, so you would have the strength to face another day without her.

You missed her caresses, her kisses, hearing her laugh, her jokes and her raspy voice in the mornings.

All physical aspects that ultimately were a form in which her eternal essence manifested itself, but you knew now more than ever that you were only used to her physical form, but that her essence would live on until the end of time.

Until she would return to us again.

[maple-the-awesome]

It's Over? ||

Pairing: (any) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 3,728

Overview: (Loosely based on this) After overhearing your conversation on the phone, Peter begins to worry about the status of your relationship and a miscommunication over text only makes matters worse.

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Peter Parker's such a terrible boyfriend.

...Okay, so maybe you've never said that to his face, but he's convinced it's true and he's also certain you agree. He's been a massive idiot lately which is a realization that makes him sick with worry and rotten with guilt.

Peter feels no hesitation with his feelings towards you and has always put effort into proving it: he gets you hand picked flowers collected during his patrols, writes loving messages for you with webs outside your window, and even texts you pictures of sunsets from the best views in New York, wishing you could be there in person with him because he absolutely treasures you, counting himself lucky every single day solely because of the fact that he can call himself your boyfriend.

Unfortunately, he fears that the title might change here soon because no matter how boundless his love is for you, he's done a real shitty job of showing it - at least in the ways that really count the most.

Originally, Peter didn't notice the flaws to your relationship and even when he did, he foolishly brushed them off. Once your smile began to fade little by little each time he returned home wounded, he reminded you that you don't need to stay up waiting for him every night and can go to sleep earlier if you're just going to be tired and annoyed with him when he gets home. He didn't mean to word it so harshly. He was worn out himself and didn't take the time to consider that you wait all night because you're worried about him.

Your complaints about him returning from work without getting any groceries would simply be met with new promises to do so after patrol. If there was no food in the fridge for dinner, then he suggested ordering take out. As a man who could easily survive months on Top Ramen alone, he didn't think you'd mind Chinese food two days in a row.

Even when you'd beg him to stay home for a date night because you haven't had one in weeks, he'd push you away, insisting he needs to protect New York without once stopping to wonder how his priorities might translate in your mind: 'I need to protect a city of strangers as I do every single night, so no, I can't spare a few hours for my girlfriend'.

Throughout every sigh to part your lips, Peter turned a blind eye to it all. Sure, the two of you argue, but all couples do, right? He still loves you and you love him, it's just...a little rough dating a superhero is all, however you'll both get through it together, he was so sure - and that's the key word: Peter 'was' sure, but after your fight today and the self-reflection he's done since, he's not too confident anymore.

It seemed so minuscule this morning. He was eating a bowl of cereal when he heard you huff from the other room. Upon investigating, he found you holding a red and blue shirt in hand, frustration written all over your face. It was your favorite shirt and it definitely wasn't supposed to be that color. Of course, the reason for its unplanned dye job wasn't difficult to guess.

Peter apologized while explaining he was really tired the night before and must've thrown his suit into the wash without checking the other items first; an "honest mistake" he called it with a shrug. Once again, you huffed, throwing the shirt back into the hamper in clear defeat which only made him press further about your suddenly foul mood. From there, the situation only escalated into raised voices ending in you slamming the door directly in his face when he tried to follow you into the bedroom.

Looking back on it now, Peter realizes his apology came off as halfhearted as he merely continued to stuff another spoonful of cereal in his mouth in between sentences and he probably should've stayed at that locked door to give you a proper apology, yet regrettable that's not how it played out. Instead, he purposely sighed as loudly as he could, asking why you "act so bitchy anymore" before stomping off...Not the greatest way to resolve an argument.

Unfortunately, Peter can't say that was the first fight he's merely walked away from with you. You would think Spiderman would know better, but alas, he's an idiot. In his own immature mind, he didn't see anything wrong or unhealthy with this strategy of simply dropping 'unfavorable conversations', after all, it seemed he had a fifty-fifty chance of you either getting angrier or never bringing the topic up again, the latter of which has been occurring more frequently lately. It wasn't until this morning that he realized just because you don't bring it up again, doesn't mean it isn't still hurting you.

When Peter went back up to the bedroom door, prepared to tell you he'd be leaving for work soon, he heart shattered upon hearing your silent sobs from inside. You were crying because of him. Your tears have always been his weakness, but it was in that moment that he learned there's something else that can deal even more damage to his sorrow and that's the broken words you sniffled to presumably MJ on the phone:

"I-I just can't do this anymore! It doesn't matter what I do! I've tried to not be clingy. I've tried to give him space and let him do his thing, but he never comes back to me! I don't even remember the last time we've gone on a date. It's always New York this, Daily Bugle that. Hell, he volunteered to work a few extra hours the other day yet can't be bothered to stay home just to eat dinner at the table with me! It's like I'm last to everything else in his life even when I put him first in mine!"

The thought of your relationship ending turns Peter's nerves to mush. How could he be so stupid? So ignorant? Such an asshole when he has the perfect girlfriend who has kept putting up with his bullshit for all this time? You don't ask for much in return; you never have. You ask him to help with small chores in your shared apartment. You request that he texts you regularly throughout the night not because you need attention, but because you need to know he's safe. You want date nights every once in a blue moon because he's your boyfriend, goddammit! What's the point of saying you're dating if he feels more like a lazy roommate than an equal lover?

You're slipping right through his fingers and he has no one to blame except himself. He knows that now and he's been spending the entire day thinking about it along with some way to apologize properly.

Part of him wishes he would've just pulled himself together and done something right then, bursting into the room with the promise that he can change - that he will change. Hell, he'd burn his suit in front of you if it means you'll give him another chance - if you'll believe for a second that the relationship is worth saving...But alas, he couldn't bring himself to interrupted your call, feeling it would only betray your trust if you knew he had been listening to a private conversation.

Instead, Peter sat like a statue on the couch, waiting not so patiently for you to leave the room on your own accord. When you did, he leaped up only for you to walk directly past him while sternly reminding him you have work. Of course you had work and, no matter how far he followed you through the apartment, begging you to listen to him for even just a minute, you wouldn't so much as glance his way...The karma he deserves.

While you may not have given him any time to explain himself this morning, hope is not completely lost. Shortly after your departure, Peter came to the realization that his nerves will last all day if he doesn't do something about your earlier argument, thus he decided to text you:

Your final text hadn't come until ten minutes after his, but at least he has a chance to plead his case which he doesn't plan on letting go to waste. He's practiced his apology about a hundred times each hour, engraving the thought-out speech in the deepest corners of his mind despite none of it sounding quite right. Of course none of it sounds right! You sounded so convinced on your phone call - like your mind is already made up on ending the relationship. What if you can't be swayed? What if you don't love him anymore? It did take you ten minutes to text those words back. Maybe you weren't even wanting to say them to spare you both the extra pain at noon.

It may seem hopeless, as Peter worries, however he refuses to give up. Too tense at home, he took to swinging around New York while sometimes reciting his speech aloud. He's tried his best to predict any possible response you may have so that a counter argument can be prepared. He wants to show you that he means this - that he's confident in his ability to fix your crumbling relationship. He's even picked up a nice bouquet of flowers at the corner store, ignoring the weird looks the florists gave as Spiderman dropped from the sky just to nervously request the best flowers to avoid a break up.

Needless to say, Peter's heart nearly jumps out of his chest when his phone alarm finally rings at noon. By this time, he's already sitting on the rooftop of your workplace, waiting nervously for your call while reviewing everything he's prepared in the meantime.

Bad boyfriend or not, Peter still knows you. He knows you find the break room too crowded, so you prefer to grab your lunch and take it back to your desk to eat. That's when you'll likely call him. The plan is then for him to pour his heart out into his speech before hanging upside down outside your office window with the flowers. Sappy, yes, but it's the best a desperate wreck like Peter Parker can think of!

His focus is glued to his phone screen while waiting, only shattered by the sound of sirens nearby. Lifting his head, Peter's heart drops at the sight of several cop cars racing down the street to a location he's learned all too well throughout his time as Spiderman: the damn bank. Of course, someone has to rob the bank now! Crime has been quiet all day, but the one time Peter needs it to be so, it decides to be blaring loud instead!

He curses under his breath when standing only for his ringer to be the new sound in his ears. You're calling now! You're calling and there's a bank robbery a few blocks down! Why does the universe hate Peter like this?

"Hello -"

"- Hey, (Y/n)...Sweetheart - Listen, I'm, um," he bites his lip, watching a few more cop cars zoom by in the company of a firetruck," I am so sorry, but I'm gonna have to call you back, okay? There's a robbery at the bank and I -...I promise I'm going to call you back before your break is over. I promise."

You don't respond too quickly much to Peter's concern - as if you already know to start weighing the worth of his promises. When you finally sigh, you sound just as tired as this morning, "...Sure, alright. Just...be safe, Peter, okay?"

"I know, I will be! I promise I'm going to call you right back so just hold tight!" Swinging into the air, Peter holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder, soon removing it with his hand but pausing to say before hanging up: "Have a good lunch, I love you!"

"...I love you, too..." Another delayed response, one Peter barely hears before pressing the little red button on the bottom of his screen.

He's dealt with lots of bank robberies before. He can make this quick. Swing in, keep the sass to a minimum, web up the badies, save the hostages, and return your call with plenty of time remaining for your break. It'll definitely work out that way, no sweat!

It didn't work out that way...No, of course it didn't, this is the life of Peter Parker; a man the universe just seems to hate most of the time. Forty two minutes; that's how long it took to deal with the whole fiasco at the bank. The robbers were armed with homemade weapons each packing a punch which are already annoying to deal with on their own, but sided with the worry of hostages and his already stressful day, the fight wasn't as easy as Spiderman had planned.

Nevertheless, no matter what the universe decides to throw his way, he has gotten good at recovering. Yet again, the bad guys were defeated and left webbed up for the police, however Spiderman had no time to deliver a clever pun before his exit. Instead, he disappears the second the threat is gone, his phone already in hand as he prepares to face another:

"Shit, shit, shit!" Peter curses, pacing across the rooftop he lands on while frantically texting you back:

Swinging a bit further, Peter begins his way towards your work with his phone balanced against his ear. He mumbles desperate pleas under his breath as he listens to the seemingly endless ringing before, to his relief, your voice finally picks up on the other side:

"Yeah?"

"Oh thank god! I didn't mean it's over as in 'I'm over with you and our relationship', but over as in 'I got the robbers'. I'd never break up with you especially over text, I swear - Listen, I really need to talk to you, but in person. Are you still at work?"

"Whatever it is, can't you just tell me now? I have that meeting in like ten minutes."

"No, I need to tell you in person. I need - I have to make sure that we're okay...I want us to be okay..." He's nearly in tears which is obvious to you by the sound of his voice.

"What are you talking about?"

"I really don't want you to break up with me. I know I've been a terrible boyfriend lately and I know I've made you feel like shit so I probably deserve to be dumped, but I swear I never meant to and I want to fix everything - I will fix everything, I swear! You're the most important person in my life - okay, maybe second to May because she's my aunt, but compared to everyone else! I love you more than Spiderman or the Daily Bugle or - or even those super good sandwiches at the corner deli!"

"Peter -"

"- My point is I can do so much better! I'll start doing all the chores, I'll take more days off from the Daily Bugle and I'll even stop being Spiderman if it means you'll be happy with me, I promise! Just please give me one more chance -!"

"- Peter, hold on!" He instantly shuts his mouth under the strictness in your voice. You hesitate on the other end before a sigh can be heard, "...How quickly can you be here?"

"Give me two minutes tops!"

"...Alright. Meet me on the rooftop - and don't be late. My manager's already an asshole as it is, so I can't be late to this meeting."

The sound of Peter landing on the roof causes you to turn around, yet you have no time to say anything before he's running towards you with his mask already crinkled in his hand as well as a few measly roses with broken stems in the other, "(Y/n), I’m sorry. I promise I’m sorry.”

“Peter, your face…” Perhaps it’s just instincts and routine at this point, but the first thing you notice is the nasty bruise already forming under his eye, not that he’s the slightest bit concerned about that, in fact he doesn’t even acknowledge your comment.

“Please give me another chance. I’ll fix everything!” When Peter officially reaches your side, he moves to hug you - desperately wanting to do so, however he stops himself with his hands on your arms, having no more confidence to push his luck. You could shove him away at any moment, after all, “Like I said, I’ll do the chores, I’ll go on as many dates as you want, and I’ll stop being Spiderman even -”

“- You wouldn’t stop being Spiderman. You’d never stop being Spiderman,” contrary to his expectations, rather than being angry, you run a hand through his hair, your voice a soft whisper, “You love being Spiderman too much, Peter.”

He bites his lip and bows his head in shame. You’re right. He doesn’t want to stop being Spiderman, but…

“...But I love you more…”

“...Peter,” your heart swoons. Brushing his bangs away from his face, you tilt your head to get a good look at him, “I know you love me and I love you, too. That’s why I could never ask you to give up something as important to you as Spiderman.”

“I thought…” He trails off.

“You thought what?”

He glances at you quickly before directing his eyes away, “...I thought you were mad at me because of Spiderman? Because I spend too much time working - that’s why you want to break up with me, right?”

You blink in surprise, “Huh? Why would you think I want to break up with you?”

“I accidentally overheard you talking on the phone,” now it’s your turn to look away in shame, “You said you couldn’t do this anymore…That you were pretty much fed up with me which you have every right to be. I’ve been a terrible boyfriend lately -”

“- You’re not a terrible boyfriend -”

“- I am, though!” Peter cries, “It’s like you said! I leave you second to everything else - I don’t mean to, but I made you feel like you’re not as important to me when you really are. You’ve always been important to me, yet I’ve been ignoring your feelings and I pushed you to the ledge -”

“- Peter Parker,” you move your hands to his cheeks, moving him gently to look at you as you speak quietly yet sternly, “...You’re right. You haven’t been the most ‘attentive’ lately and yes, it really hurts to be tossed aside compared to everything else. I know deep down that you don’t mean it and I know you love me. I love you too - sooo much which is why I really don’t want to break up…It’s just…Something needs to change.

“That call you heard - I was only ranting if anything because honestly, I haven’t felt like I’ve had anyone to talk to lately,” you squeeze your eyes shut, blinking back the tears, “I’ve been so worn out with it all. Work’s been crazy lately with my manager constantly up my ass for reports and then when I go home wanting nothing more than to spend time with the one person who makes all that stress go away, you aren’t there. I’ve…I can’t keep that up.

“...What’s important right now is that we both realize that. I don’t want you to give up being Spiderman, but you could take a night off once in a while, right? There’s like a zillion superheroes in this city, after all. Make the Avengers handle it or - I don’t know, that devil dude. Take a break not just for my sake, but yours, too” you let your hands fall down to Peter’s, holding onto them with a sigh, “...You’re not the only one who needs to change, though. This is partly my fault, too -”

“- It isn’t your fault. Why would it be your fault?” Peter interrupts with concern, yet you shake your head.

“I should’ve communicated to you that I was upset. I should’ve made sure you actually understood how I was feeling instead of just assuming or expecting it. Clearly, you care about us as much as I do and you want to make fixes now that you’re aware of the problems. If I just would’ve said something sooner, it wouldn’t have had to get to this point. It isn’t fair for either of us to suffer without the other’s knowledge nor is it healthy. We shouldn’t have to get pushed to the ledge or worry about a break up before ever once sitting down to actually talk about our concerns like grown ups…That’s what we’re supposed to be now, right?”

“I think so, although it’s not that easy, is it?” Peter mumbles then throws his head back dramatically with a groan, “Ah, May and Ben made it look sooo easy!’

You chuckle, resting your forehead against him, “I’m sure they had moments like this…We just have to learn, is all.”

For what feels like the first time today, Peter smiles and breathes his relief, “How about this: I’ll promise to start spending more time with you and doing more chores around the apartment if you promise to start telling me when you’re upset. Even if it’s something that seems totally stupid, okay? I won’t walk away anymore. I’ll sit and listen and if I don’t, you have my permission to call May on me.”

“It’s a promise,” you press your smile against his for what you intend to be a quick peck, however his arms finally wrap around your waist, pulling you closer into a longer kiss he’s been dying for all day.

“I love you,” he whispers once pulling away.

“I love you, too,” and there’s no hesitation or delay to your response this time.

[help-itrappedmyself]

One-shot.

I wrote this for trans week, originally under the prompts: reflection and gender euphoria, but I'm not sure it really fits. While it is about overcoming body dysmorphia, the gender of the person is never in question so I'm posting this without association to trans week

tw: body dysmorphia

Kon can look at himself and see all the things he would change. All the ways he is in fact, a clone rather than a person. Those thoughts could sink him to the ground if he isn’t careful. Instead, he focuses on this, this permanent thing that’s just for him. It helps him in ways most people wouldn’t consider. When every other part of him feels wrong- stolen, not himself, he isn’t himself- he can look at this and know that this part of him, here, this is him. 

‘I control me. Control what I want to be, what I will be.’

And it’s small, and easily hidden. Can be swept under the rug and ignored by the people who don’t like it or don’t approve, as if Clark, or Lex, or anyone has any right to tell him what to do with his body. But with every new tattoo he gets, he gets a new piece of himself that is him. He can’t change his biology, what is inside of him is done, he had no choice in his creation. But this body is his now, no longer a tool to be used.

He loves every part of this, the pain while it’s happening, the itching while it heals. Sometimes I like those parts more than the final product. Because those feelings are there whether he can see the tattoo or not. Those times are the only times he can truly feel that this body is his and it’s who he wants to be. Those physical sensations are proof that he is in control, for a short while. Too short, what with his everything, but he’s just lucky that he can get tattoos in the first place.  But even when the pain fades, the skin has healed, that mark is there. 

It’s a small bit of control over a body and a life that doesn’t feel like his own. And people can judge him for making permanent decisions with his body. The way people judge those who ruin themselves with drugs, liquor, cigarettes, sex, piercings. Forgetting that people make permanent decisions that will affect their body forever every day of their lives; with every step you take, every shower, every bite of food. Like taking ownership of your body is only okay when it's temporary, like a haircut or hair dye or clothes. Something that will change with time or effort. People can judge him for the permanence, the designs themselves, the choice of color and location. But they can’t change it. Try as they might, he took that part of his body from them. They can’t take it from him anymore. With their prying eyes and loud voices. They can bitch and scream and moan about it, but that part of him is his forever now. And he will know every time he looks at it that as much as family and people and society try to control him, own him and shape him in their image, that the only one who can permanently change him is himself. And their judgment is what’s temporary. As fleeting in my life as he can make it. There and gone with one glance in the mirror as he looks and sees the parts of him that they can’t take away anymore.