#not the hair binder part but the bullying part
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Bully - Part 1 of 3
anonymous said: I'm imagining bully!billy who secretly has a crush on fem!reader but doesn't want it to be known cause she's a "nerd" and not very social.
I took this idea and ran with it. Loved this request so much I decided to turn it into a short series. hope you like it!!
tag list; @bbyhargrove
warnings: 18+ minors dni, bully!billy, innocent nerdy!reader, bullying, name calling, blood, virginity mentioned, also perv!billy I couldn’t help myself
Icy blue eyes watch your Ked’s kicking gravel, traveling up your leg warmers and stop at your thighs. He’s watching as your skirt lifts with your steps, hypnotized by the sight and how it’s making his chest and stomach tighten.
“You got the hots for that geek?” Tommy teases, nudging his shoulder.
Billy averts his eyes and flicks his lit cigarette at Tommy, who quickly inspects where the cherry made contact with his sweatshirt, brushing off the ash and glaring up at his friend.
“Think you’re projecting,” Billy chides, but it’s all a facade. He does have the hots for you, thinks about your legs when he can’t sleep at night.
Tommy snorts, “Yeah, totally. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a nerd like that.”
Billy likes the idea of corrupting an innocent, dorky girl like yourself but he won’t admit as much. His ‘friends’ wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. So when it seems like they’re catching on to his lingering eyes, he panics and starts overtly messing with you. It’s grade school bully stuff too.
His group follows his footsteps in the hall and when he sees you closing your locker with a mountain of textbooks and binders in your hands, he curves his path and knocks them out of your hand and to the floor. An all too easy, malicious smile curling his lips up as you make a small, offended noise. The gaggle of teens surrounding him erupt in vicious laughter. He’s not sure why but the way you look at him floors his attraction to you and Billy finds himself looking forward to any time he can terrorize you.
In class, he chews on his gum while he stares at the back of your head. He considers for a moment smooshing his gum between the wavy strands but then you might have to cut it and he doesn’t want that. He settles for pinching a pencil thin chunk of your hair and pulling. You head pulls back abruptly and you cry out in pain. All the heads in the class turn to the two of you, Billy looking pleased with himself and a scowl painted on your face as you also turn to look at him.
The teacher sighs, setting the text book down and tilting her head at you and Billy, “Why are you disrupting my class, y/n?”
“Billy pulled my hair!” you tattle, rubbing your fingers over the sore spot at your roots.
“No, I didn’t,” he replies with a roll of his eyes.
“Yes, you did!” your voice is shaky as you raise it, afraid of getting in trouble but so sick and tired of his constant harassment.
“Did not,” he bites back like a child.
The teacher rubs her eyebrows with her hand, “I don’t have time for this. Both of you, principals office. He’ll deal with you.”
“But—“ you start to protest.
“Now,” she seethes, scribbling on two passes and extending them out with her hands.
Heaving a sigh, you stand from your desk and start gathering your things. Billy purposefully bumps into you as he walks up to the front, knocking everything from your hands.
When you exit the classroom, you expect him to already be down the hall but your luck would have him waiting against the hallway wall, grinning mischievously at you. Billy takes this moment to scan his eyes up and down your body, which unfortunately for him, goes unnoticed by you. You just think he’s an asshole, bullying you because he bullies all the nerds.
You say nothing, tightening your grip on your backpack straps as you hurry down the hall. Billy’s behind you, watching you way your skirt flutters against your thighs with every step you take. He decides he’s not done having fun, walking very closely behind you so he can step on the back of your shoe and declare, “Flat tire.”
Before you can comprehend his annoying joke, you’re stumbling forward and landing on your hands and knees.
“Ow,” you curse, thanking silently that you were able to catch yourself. You glare up at him, “What is your problem?!”
His smile doesn’t falter but he shrugs, “Oops.”
You stand up, no help from the blonde prick who’d caused the tumble in the first place, and dust yourself off.
“Why do you have to harass me so much?” you demand, tears welling up in your eyes. “You’re so mean to me and I’ve never even talked to you!”
Billy frowns, amused by your reaction and shamefully, a little turned on by the tears glistening in your eyes. Billy did get off on some light sadism during sex but this was something entirely new and something he wanted to keep provoking.
“It’s fun,” he says, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. He chews on his bottom lip, watching how his answer clears nothing up and you look at him with hurt painting every detail of your face. He imagines looking down at it in his bed, imagines what kind of noises you’d make and if he could get you to beg for him.
You wipe the tear that breaks free and turn back around, not wanting give Billy the satisfaction of seeing you cry.
In the principals office, he pleads innocence and even suggests your hair had gotten pinned against your back and the seat.
“I think she’s got a crush on me or something,” he invents, “She’s always making stuff up, saying I’m doing things when I’m not.”
Your jaw drops. You do not have a crush on Billy Hargrove. In fact, you hate him. He’s been making your life a living hell since he showed up.
“Mr. Anderson,” you plead, “I am not making this up.”
The principal is conflicted. You have a good reputation, you’re never in trouble and you make great marks. However, he’s seen how gaga all these teenage girls have gotten over the new guy from California and he seems to think you’re probably no different. He doesn’t know who to believe so he gives you both lunch detention for a week.
“That is so not fair,” you complain when he sends you on your way.
Billy looks at his watch, he’s got another few minutes alone with you until the bell rings. He decides to spend that time following you to your locker, leaning against it before you can get to it.
“Can you just leave me alone?!” you exhale, frustration bubbling through your body.
Billy loves seeing you so bothered, he wants to follow you all day and provoke it out of you.
“Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. See you around, geek,” he pushes passed you, nudging your shoulder hard when he does.
-
The classroom is buzzing when you walk in, kids are bouncing off the wall and you scan around to find an unbothered desk, tucked away in the corner away from everyone. You take solace in it, sinking into the seat and pulling out your homework folder before placing the paper sack containing your lunch at the corner of the desk.
Lo and behold, Billy decides to sit at the desk in front of you and for the life of you, you can’t figure him out. You see he has a couple friends suffering the same fate of detention but yet, he chooses to spend this hour harassing you. He swipes the paper bag and opens it up, peeking in to see it’s contents.
“What am I having today?” he wonders aloud, dodging your hand as you attempt to grab for your lunch. He pulls out the sandwich and opens the baggie, bringing it to his nose to get a sniff. He winces, exaggerating his disgust as he quickly pulls his head back, “Ew! Tuna?”
You’re able to grab the sandwich from him, meekly replying, “I like tuna.”
“Disgusting. You can keep it,” he mumbles, his eyes back in the bag.
“Hmm, let’s see,” he pulls out the bag of celery and carrots and tosses it onto your desk.
“There’s nothing good in here,” he announces, tone dripping in disappointment.
With a sigh, you reach into your backpack and offer him the pack of Snoballs you’d bought on your walk to school. He snatches them greedily, smiling wide and you don’t know why you even gave them to him.
“Why were you hiding these?” he asks around a mouthful of the pink pastry.
You shrug, “My moms kind of a health nut.”
That was an understatement. She would freak if she knew you were sneaking sweets whenever you could.
“Poor thing,” Billy pouts sarcastically and turns his attention back to the front as the principal walks in and rattles off an excuse why he won’t be in the room but says he’ll be checking in every ten minutes.
Great. With Billy being here you won’t be able to at least make this time productive and do a bit of your homework. You attempt anyway, shoving your lunch in your backpack because you’re suddenly embarrassed to eat it around Billy. You pull out your math worksheet and start at the first problem. Then there’s a mess of blonde curls on the paper and soon after, Billy’s entire head. He’s kicked his legs up over his desk and leaned completely back, looking up at you curiously.
For a brief moment, you admire his chiseled features. His thick eyelashes, bright blue eyes, adorable button nose, pink lips, and his sharp, strong jawline. You feel a slight twinge in your nether regions, something you’d only felt once before when flipping through a copy of Teen Beat at a sleepover. You know you’re blushing because Billy laughs, his adams apple bobbing up and down with the sound.
“Can you move your head? I’m trying to do my homework,” you choke out, trying to ignore how attractive he is.
“No,” he says it so casually, because he doesn’t want to move his head. He likes looking up at you like this, how flustered it’s making you.
However, his neck is starting to hurt and he fears this might look like flirting to someone else. But he’s kind of frozen there, smirking up at you.
“Please,” you whisper, hating the way your voice sounds on your ears.
Billy loves it, smirk turning into a pleased grin and he’s sure you’re soaking in your panties just from looking at his face. Not the safest thought at school, he thinks as he feels his dick twitch in his jeans and sits up, tucking his legs back under the desk and ignores you for the rest of the hour.
You’re relieved but shocked, catching yourself glancing up at the back of his head repeatedly. You’re sure he’s planning something sinister. The warning bell rings and you start to pack up all your things, pulling your lunch out so you can toss it in the trash on your way out. As it turns out, Billy was planning something but it wasn’t as thought out as you’d expected. He waits against the doorframe and as you’re walking past him and Tina, he sticks his foot out. Yours gets caught on it and you fall forward, unable to catch yourself this time as you face plant out into the hallway. Your nose stings, and it’s wet.
“Walk much?” Tina sings and you’re not sure which stings more, your chest or your nose.
You lift yourself up and look down to see blood on the floor, bringing your hand up to your nose and feeling thick fluid pouring out. Then you taste the blood, metallic on your tongue as it seeps down to your mouth.
You expect more laughter, and there is laughter but not the hyena-like laugh you anticipated.
“Oh, shit,” you hear Billy’s voice and feel his hand on your back.
You brace yourself for a shove to the ground but his other hand wraps around your bicep as he helps you to your feet.
“I’ll catch up with you guys,” he says to his buddies, ushering you down the hall and when they give him a confused look, he offers, “Not trying to get more detention.”
That makes sense. Why the hell would he be nice now?
“I figured you would’ve caught yourself,” he mumbles as you head toward the nurses office.
Even if you wanted to, you can’t speak. There’s too much blood and you really don’t like the taste of it. You were naturally clumsy, tripping over air most of the time but Billy doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know you.
As soon as he opens the door, he’s reaching for paper towels and holding them to your nose for you.
“Oh, no!” the nurse exclaims, standing from her desk and rushing over, “What happened?”
“She tripped,” Billy says, “Landed right on her face.”
The nurse nods to Billy, “Thanks for helping her down here. I’ll get her cleaned up. You can go to class.”
He shifts on his feet, “I’d actually like to stay. Make sure she’s okay and all.”
The nurse looks over at you and you nod slowly. You figure he’s making sure you don’t tattle on him again. Billy’s genuinely concerned though, he feels like his father and it makes his skin crawl. He didn’t intend to actually hurt you. Plopping on the cot beside you, he sits so close your arms are touching. His skin is warm, you notice, and it’s weirdly comforting. You think you actually want a hug from him even though he’s the reason your nose hurts so bad.
“Is it gonna bruise?” Billy inquires. He couldn’t forgive himself if it did.
“Too early to tell,” the nurse mumbles, tilting your head back to speed up the process.
The metallic taste drips down your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to get sick from it. You feel Billy’s fingers brush against yours for a brief second and he pulls away quickly. He eyes your face, his brows furrowed. God, he feels like an asshole and you totally think he’s one. A cute one but still an asshole.
“Does it hurt?” he asks when you’re walking to your respective classes, hall passes in hand.
“Yes,” you mutter.
The bridge of your nose aches dully. You also pray it doesn’t bruise, not sure of how to explain it to your mother. If she knew you were being bullied, she would march right up to the school and raise hell. Especially if she found out a boy was the one bullying you.
“I’m sorry,” Billy says, rushed before he walks into his class.
You can’t tell him it’s okay and maybe that’s for the best. It should be okay but you’re honestly not that mad at him.
-
After the awkward apology, you expect the torment to end. Wishful thinking. Billy’s at your locker when you get to it and he extends his hand. You look down at it confused and then back up to his eyes.
“Snoball,” he grunts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
He’s just as bad as your mother. You heave a sigh and reach into your backpack, pulling out the packet of Ding-Dongs you’d excitedly purchased at the corner-store.
He laughs childishly as he snatches them from you, “You like Ding-Dongs, eh?”
“Stop,” you can’t handle the innuendo, cheeks on fire.
“I assumed you’d never had one before,” he looks at you with raised brows.
You falter, eyes widening as you push hm away from your locker and begin to enter the code. You haven’t. Ever. You’ve never even kissed a boy.
“And I was right,” Billy muses with another cackle, “You’re a fucking virgin.”
“Leave me alone,” you plead with a mumble, grabbing your textbooks and binders for the first four classes.
“As if that’s news to anyone,” Carol snorts as her and Tommy walk up.
Billy laughs harder, seemingly fueled by his friends joining in on the fun. Your stomach churns. All you want is for them to leave you alone. Sure, you’d dealt with teasing here and there since grade school but this was excessive. You didn’t even understand why they were doing it. Yeah, you were categorized as a nerd and a loner but there had to be another reason why Billy was picking on you so hard. You’d seen him get in fights with guys but you hadn’t seen him be so cruel so anyone else. Or obsessive.
“See ya around, geek,” he shuts your locker before you’re finished getting your things, strutting off down the hall with his friends. Magnetically, your eyes follow his ass in his extremely tight jeans. You catch yourself and press your forehead to your locker, groaning out loud.
-
He had been sure you were a virgin, but now that you’ve confirmed it, his mind is racing. He sits back in his chair, the teachers lecture going in one ear and out the other as he ponders if you’ve even kissed someone before or if he’s the first man to give you any kind of attention.
The thought is odd though. You’re definitely not unattractive. Yeah, you focused on school and when you dressed provocative, he could tell it wasn’t your intention to have eyes on you. God, he loved when you wore skirts. Which, with the season changing and the temperature rising, you did most days.
The bookworm thing kind of turns him on which was new. He’d never been into it before he saw you. All the girls he’d hooked up with in the past ran in the same social circles with him. You were quite the change of pace, maybe that what his fascination with you was about. Who was he kidding? It was your thighs.
He’s pulled from his thoughts as the bell rings, indicating it’s lunch time. Another hour with you. He’s pleased to see you in the same seat as before. He takes the desk in front of you, snaking his leg around the seat so he sits facing you. He picks up the lunch sack placed at the corner and dumps the contents out onto the desk, pursing his lips as he pokes around at what your moms packed today. Not much of it looks good enough to eat. He sees your cleavage peaking up from your shirt and grins, now that’s appetizing.
“That’s a low cut shirt,” he points out, hooking his finger in the collar and pulls the material down.
Your eyes widen as you pull back and slap his hand away. He smirks, watching as your cheeks redden. You pull your shirt back up, willing the warmth spreading up your thighs to subside as you squeeze them together. You liked this kind of teasing much more and wished he’d just stick to that stuff.
“Can I put my lunch away now or are you not done picking through it?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.
His mouth scrunches up to the side, like he’s thinking it over before he delicately picks up the baggie filled with apple slices. He opens it and pulls one out, inspecting it carefully before taking a bite of it. He keeps his eyes on yours while he eats it and his gaze gets too intense for you to hold. Shoving the various baggies of food back the paper sack, you keep your eyes focused on your hands. In your peripheral, you notice Billy holding out an apple slice to you. As you peer up, fingers extending to accept the offer, he pulls his hand back and laughs. You give him a defeated look.
“Get it with your teeth, not your fingers,” he instructs, his tone condescending as he offers it again.
You don’t know why, but you listen, taking the apple slice with your teeth. You hate the way he smiles at you, like he knows he could get you to do anything for him. Worst of all, you hate that you would, hate the way he excites you, the way you want to do what he says. You’re worried you might be a whore.
Your mom had warned you about boys like Billy. Boys with pretty eyes and smiles that could corrupt you. Perhaps that’s why you’ve never entertained the thought of being involved with any boy in that way.
He grins sadistically, “Good girl.”
Your breath catches in your throat. His words only making that rising heat harder to ignore.
You’re saved by Mr. Anderson, “Billy. Sit in the goddamn seat properly and stop antagonizing Ms. Y/L/N.”
Billy’s snatching your pencil before he follows the principals order. You think you see him blushing when he’s yelled at but you can’t be sure, it happens too fast. You reach into your pencil case to replace the one he’s stolen, getting started on the chemistry homework you were dreading. You wish he’d distract you again, but he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t say another word to you the rest of the hour and you don’t see him the remainder of the school day.
#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove drabble#billy hargrove fic#billy hargove x reader#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove#billy hargrove angst
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Also PLEASE post about your oc! I'm trying to get up the courage to make one for hh x3
Finally! It's time! My most detailed oc that I've been working on for five years! (I am so nervous about sharing this)
Originally they were a self insert but grew to become their own character. (Which is why we have the same name. So I suppose they are both a self insert and an oc?)
I'm including bio, relationship with characters, and scene inserts
Hopefully this does not come off as cringe (I better get complements or I will cry)
Tw for death, murder, violence, bullying, obsession, stalking, mentioned kidnapping, shipping with alastor because why not, British people
Also tag me when you make yours!!!
@myroanokenightmare666 @frilledshark-enthusiast @astral--horrorshow you prommied
Bio:
Lorelai "Lore" Dagenhart
The token spooky weird goth character
Ghost Demon (based on an onryo)
She/They
AFAB Nonbinary
Biromantic Asexual
24
Autistic
Goth
British
From Birmingham
Chaotic neutral
Scorpio
Gen Z
Born October 31, 1999
Died October 31, 2023
Stabbed in the heart
Killed her old bullies (The four main ones; failed to kill the last one. Or did they?)
Was bullied severely (called names and slurs, beaten up, tripped, shoved, desk was graffitied, hair pulled and even cut, had liquids poured on her to trigger their sensory issues, rumors spread to the point not even the other goths wanted to hang out with her because they thought they sacrificed birds, locked in closets, etc.)
Failed to make friends
Tried to act "normal" for a while but because she had already been established as the weird kid it didn't work
Decided to commit to being weird
Loves being eccentric
Says weird, random, and ominous things
Likes scaring people; is good at it
Special interest is horror
Was a semi popular horror author
Drew their own covers
Has a cute style and a realistic monster style
Had good parents growing up
Parents owned a funeral home
Dad was a funeral director and mom was a mortician
Were similar to Morticia and Gomez
Speaks English and British Sign Language
Sister was deaf (her name was Faye)
Scared of bodies of water (especially running water)
Doesn't mind rain
Can still swim
Bright rooms give her sensory overload (puts on sunglasses to combat this)
Wears sound filtering earbuds
Rarely holds conversation
Either infodumps or barely contributes
Avoids eye contact
If they force herself to make eye contact, they will hold it for way too long
Only really makes eye contact when trying to intimidate someone
Struggles with social cues
Won't realize someone is upset unless they tell her
When that happens, they will simply sit and listen, which works well
Can recognize fear
Fluctuates between touch adverse, touch positive, and touch indifferent
Has a heart-shaped face, a small nose, pure white skin, long black hair parted in the middle that reaches the floor, big droopy eyes that are completely black, including the sclera, dark circles, black lips, and white fangs
Tall
6'5, 7'0 with her platforms
Very thin and bony
Wears a grey hoodie with a red x over their heart and heart shaped lock prints running down the sleeves, a pleated black skirt, black and white striped stockings, knee high lace up black 5 inch platform boots and a binder
Facial expression is usually neutral
Voice is also usually monotone
Has a haunting singing voice
Cold to the touch
The temperature in the room lowers when she gets upset (the more upset they are, the colder it gets; she is unaffected by this)
Can float
Can turn invisible
Has prehensile hair
Every time they cut it it grows back
Can't be styled either (will just return to its normal state)
Can store things inside of it
Easily sneaks up behind people
Just pops up randomly
Good at hiding
Can somehow fit into small spaces
Very flexible
Double jointed
Left handed
Anger is almost always silent; plots revenge
Very vengeful
Holds grudges
Has an amazing memory
Can think on her feet
Prefers routine
Can be very blunt
Not great at telling lies, tells half truths instead
Got A's and B's in school
Book smart, but not street smart
Had two black cats named Misery and Misfortune
Has befriended the crows by feeding them
The crows bring them little trinkets
Loves animals, especially the spooky ones (cats, rats, bats, owls, wolves, ravens, crows, snakes, spiders, moths, centipedes, as well as possums)
Favorite animal is bunnies
Favorite movie is The Ring
Favorite season is fall
Favorite holiday is Halloween
Full on cosplays for Halloween
Cosplays outside of Halloween as well
Loves candy and other sweets
Hates the taste of alcohol and coffee
Likes tea
Has taken edibles multiple times before
Often slams things without meaning to
Uses both slang and complicated vocabulary
Switches between using proper punctuation, capitalization, and spelling and ignoring it when posting as it's more chaotic
Tumblr shitposter
Made vines when it was still around
Can play the guitar (bass and electric) and piano
Doesn't quite know how to dance
Good at gardening
Offered to take care of the hotel's rose garden after seeing its neglected state
Is now the hotel gardener
Horrible at cooking
A literal hazard in the kitchen
Bad luck seems to follow them when she cooks
The food itself tastes either mediocre or terrible
Collects weird t-shirts
Humor is a mix of dark and surreal
Has a maniacal laugh
Stims by pacing, flapping hands, rocking, cracking neck (neg), and/or bouncing leg
Sleeps with arms crossed over their chest like a vampire (taught herself to do that as a kid and it became a habit)
Sleepwalks sometimes
Even creepier when they sleepwalk
Wanders around, stares at walls, crawls, says cryptic things, laughs
As a human she had brown hair that reached their back, pale skin, and occult blue eyes. She was 6'0, 6'5 with platforms. They wore a long black trenchcoat that reached the floor and a black T-shirt with a ghost on it. (The rest of her outfit was the same.)
Their full demon form has hollow black shadowy holes instead of eyes, a slit mouth that spans her entire face, long claws, and is 8 feet tall with long limbs and an echoing voice
Voice also echoes when being intense
Found the hotel shortly after arriving in hell. (Literally was just wandering around and stumbled upon it. They stopped to admire the little details, Vaggie noticed her through the window, Charlie went down to greet them, and the rest is history.)
Got a double degree in creative writing and digital art
Thinks she's pretty in a haunting way
Creative when it comes to insults and threats
Has an axe-shaped electric guitar and an axe-shaped bass guitar (literally Marceline's bass and Marshall's guitar)
VERY progressive
High Empathy
Music tastes consist of gothic rock, alt rock, punk rock, electric swing, and horror soundtracks
Parents introduced them to gothic rock and punk rock
Pirates movies
Thinks she is unlovable
Has trust issues
Assumes the worst in people
Despite this, you can win their trust by listening to her infodump
Never sits correctly
Feet on the couch, perching on the armrests or even back, crouching on the floor
Grew up agonistic
Dabbles in witchcraft (séances, tarot readings, tea leaf readings, and as a kid curses)
Always carries around a kitchen knife
Had a bobcut with bangs as a kid and wore the school uniform (white button up, black skirt, black tie) with black combat boots, black and white striped stockings, her black trenchcoat, and sharpie eyeliner
Used to explore abandoned places
Loyal to their friends
Cannot flirt or tell when someone is flirting with her to save their life
1920's outfit is a black below the knee dress with long cuffed sleeves, a grey sash, and a white collar with a white ribbon tied around it and small black heeled shoes with a strap.
Bedwear is a plain white short sleeved nightgown with her striped stockings
Never told their parents about being bullied because she didn't want them to worry
Told the teachers about being bullied but they ignored them, even when her parents got involved
Doesn't trust authority because of that
By the time they finally told her parents it was too late to do anything so they just had to push through until graduation
Killed her bullies because she couldn't live knowing they got away with what they did
Wore a ghostface costume to kill their bullies
Decided to name herself Lore because it "fits my new form"
Smells like freshly turned soil
Voice claim: Jamie from The Haunting of Bly Manor
Singing voice claim: Chibi from The Birthday Massacre/Ashley Serena/Emily Rohm
Relationships:
Alastor:
Best friends
He loves how weird she is
The only time he'll watch movies is with them
She likes showing him her favorite horror movies and infodumping afterwards
He likes spending time with her
Both have crushes on each other (He's uniromantic asexual; died at 29)
Lore assumes it's one-sided, thinking she's undateable
And Alastor loves them... Way too much
To the point of obsession
Drags her around everywhere
Definitely stalks them using his shadow
Watches her sleep
Will kidnap them eventually
Partly because he wants to keep her safe and partly because he wants them all to himself
Lore will be angry, scared, but also kinda into it (check feels unlovable)
Will probably try to make her become a cannibal like him, either by sneaking demon meat into their food, forcing her, or some other means
Charlie
One of their first friends
Sees that Lore is actually a kind person
Lore is not entirely sure her plan will work, but is supportive because that's what best friends do
Anyone who messes with her will face her wrath
Vaggie
One of their first friends
Accepts her weirdness as just who they are
Thinks each other are cool
Listen to goth music together sometimes
Has a bad feeling about Alastor's friendship with her
Angel
Creeped out by them
One of her main scaring targets
When he first met them he thought she was a ghost
Admires their chaoticness though
Will grow closer
In pain with her obliviousness with Al
Husk
Brushes them off as just a weird kid
A little worried about her friendship with Alastor
Nifty
Different flavors of weird
Forever confused about their gender
Hates when she tracks dirt in
Ships them and Alastor
Once wrote a fanfic about the two and showed her
It was smut
Lore enjoys her weird moments and finds her endearing
Sir Pentious
Scaring victim number two
Did not like him
Had not completely forgiven him for trying to betray them and kill them twice until he sacrificed himself
Katie Killjoy
Hates her
Reminds them of her old bullies
Slashed her tires after the interview
Tom Trench
Hates him because he's Katie's accomplice
Was the one that set him on fire (molotov cocktail)
Since Charlie was already taking care of Katie they went after him instead
Vox
At first did not understand why Alastor like her
Until he dug around online and realized "Ah... They're weird as shit nevermind."
Lore hates them because Alastor hates them
"My friends enemies are my enemies" type shit
Valentino
Hates him after Charlie told her what she saw at the studio
Had to hold themself back from fighting him after seeing him in the club
Lucifer
Always wanted to meet him
Still feels bad Charlie doesn't have a good relationship with him
Glad he's at least trying to fix it
Cherri Bomb
Lore brought weed gummies during their night out so she likes her
Rosie
Finds them charming
Endorses Alastor's obsession
Scene Inserts:
Pilot
Vaggie: It's all highlighted.
(Lore appears behind Vaggie, going from invisible to visible)
Lore: I think, you should scrap this, and just say Happy Hotel over and over again like a subliminal message.
Charlie: I'll just have to resort to my impeccable improv skills!
Lore: She does improv?
Charlie: Well, there's my friend Lore.
(The camera pans to Lore. She hisses.)
(The camera pans back to Charlie, slightly weirded out.)
Charlie: And someone named... Angel Dust.
Tom: WHY WON'T ANYONE HELP ME
(Lore learns into the frame, holding a lighter and smirking)
(Silence after argument in limo.)
Lore: I set a man on fire.
(The three turn and stare at her.)
Alastor: What do you do my dear?
Lore: Fester.
Charlie: She's the gardener.
Alastor: My what an intriguing lady you are.
Lore: I'm not a lady I'm a creature.
Vaggie: They mean she's Nonbinary.
(Alastor raises his eyebrow.)
Vaggie: Like identifies outside the gender binary.
Alastor: Ah! How delightfully chaotic!
Alastor: And what can you do my effeminate fellow?
Angel: I can suck ya dick.
Alastor: Ha! No.
Episode 1
Alastor: Founded five days ago by Lucifer's naive daughter Charlotte Morningstar!
Alastor: Enjoy riveting conversation with one of our two (Lore emerges behind the couch) residents! Wow!
Angel: We're in Hell toots. That's kinda the end of the road, ain't it?
Lore: He's right. Death is the end of the road. One long, winding road.
Angel: Why?
Episode 2
Alastor: Well, it looks as though I need a visit to the tailor. Lore, care to accompany me?
Lore: I don't like people.
Alastor: Then you'll only have to interact with me! (Loops his arm around hers) Best of luck, chums!
(After Stayed Gone)
Lore: Why am I here?
Alastor: Moral support!
Charlie: So... This is the bar and the bartender. And here is the garden and the gardener!
Lore: The roses aren't ready to be cut yet. If I find that you cut any, I will cut your fucking hands off your pathetic little body.
Charlie: She's joking.
Lore: No I'm not.
Vaggie: This is going to be your whole day! (Claps)
Lore: My turn:
Hello,
my name is Lore
I like blood
And guts and gore
Charlie: That's enough-
Lore: Reality is fake
Someone's going to die
In the lake
Vaggie: I'm sorry what.
Lore: You heard me.
Episode 3
Vaggie: Wow, you are slimy.
Lore: Like a worm. But not a cute one.
Episode 4
Husk: She was the weird kid who was bullied no matter how hard they tried to fit in, so she decided to just own it and commit to the title. Also never orders alcohol. And Nifty-
(After Charlie leaves)
(Silence)
Lore: You watch us sleep?
Pentious: Oh, not you. Alastor already watches you sleep.
Lore: He what.
Episode 5
Charlie: And this is Sir Pentious, Angel Dust, and Lore, our guests!
Sir Pentious: Your Majesty!!!
Angel: Hey, you short king.
Lore: This is my childhood dream come true.
(After explaining Alastor's backstory)
Lore: Sick.
Episode 7
Vaggie: They can be killed.
Lore: Seriously I've been researching any weaknesses for months now.
Episode 8
Alastor: It's been a surprising thrill to witness these wayward souls find connection. Always makes one sentimental, aye Niffty?
Niffty: I really like them, Alastor. They let me put on roach puppet shows without booing!
Lore: You know it's funny. Hell is the only place I was actually able to make friends.
Alastor: Ahh, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit one could get accustomed.
Niffty: I dub thee, king roach!
Alastor: Oh, to understand your twisted little mind. Hahaha....
(They all laugh.)
Lore: Never change Niffty. Hey, can I be the roach jester?
Alastor: Hmm. I'd rather rule alongside you.
(He grabs her hand and kisses it.)
Lore: Oh.
(Beginning of battle)
(Brandishes knives with hair)
Lore: Come and get me you fucking tar-and-feathered hypocritical bitches in a box! See how a ghost defends its haunt.
Vaggie: New coat of paint!
Lore: New flowers
Charlie, Vaggie, Lore, Husk: With a little sorcery
Husk: New lights across the marquee
PLEASE feel free to send me asks about them!!!
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel oc#tw bullying#tw murder#tw death#tw obsession#tw violence#tw kidnapping#tw stalking#yandere alastor#alastor x oc
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Star Wars But Better Part 7
here’s the link to the master post so you can get part one: Master post
———————
(Han and Luc leave “Escorting” Chewie along the hall. They get into an elevator and head down to level 5)
Luc: I can’t see anything in this helmet
Han: No wonder these guys can’t shoot a bantha at point blank range if they tried.
(Meanwhile Obi-wan does some tractor beam stuff)
(The elevator door opens)
Han: (Mumbles) This isn’t going to work
Luc: shut up
(They step out of the elevator chewbacca between them)
Officer: Where are you taking this… thing?
Luc: *Cough* Racist
Officer: Excuse me trooper?
Luc: (Sounding official) Prisoner transfer from block one-one-three-eight
Officer: Hm, I wasn’t notified i’ll have to clear it.
(The officer turns to his conceal and Han takes off Chewie’s binders while he’s not looking)
Han: Watch out he’s loose!
(A fire fight breaks out and the dumbfounded guards are easily bested by the large beast)
Luc: (Shoots a trooper down) Oops I was aiming for the wookie.
(Luc runs down the corridor containing the cells and Han switches on the com link on the command panel)
Han: (Over the sound of blaster fire) Everything is under control. Situation normal!
Intercom voice: What happened?
(The firing stops as the last trooper is killed by Chewie)
Han: Uh… slight weapons malfunction. But everything’s perfectly alright now.We’re fine. We’re all fine here thank you… How are you?
Intercom voice: What’s your operating number?
(Han shoots the com link)
Han: boring conversation anyway. LUC! We're gonna have company!
(Luc stops in front of a door, blasts it open and hurriedly steps inside. A woman in a white dress and donut hair is lying on the bed. She looks up when Luc comes in)
Leia: Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?
Luc: (Removes helmet) Excuse me???? I’ll have you know I’m prime ankle-biting height!”
Leia: (Seems slightly disturbed) Who are you even?
Luc: god
Han: A little help?!
Luc: (Turns to leave and then looks back at leia) Take your choice, Die out there (Points to the hallway) Or die in here!
(Leia follows luc out into the firefight. The Hall is now teaming with troopers)
Luc: Wow great distraction Han
Leia: Looks like you’ve managed to cut off our only escape route
Han: Great now there's two people ganging up on me!
Leia: This is some rescue!
Han: (Points at Luc) Their the brains not me sweetheart
Luc: Wow you really just called yourself stupid, alright.
(Leia grabs Luc’s gun out of their hands and shoots at a grate blowing it open)
Han: What the hell are you doing?!
Leia: Someone has to save our skins, into the garbage chute flyboy! (She jumps in)
(CHewie grumbles definitely)
Han: Yeah I here you Just get in there I know it smells bad but I’d rather not have to deal with imperial tourture tactics.
(Reluctantly Chewie hops into the shute gets stuck for a second but makes it through)
Han: Wonderful girl! Either I’m going to kill her or I’m beginning to like her!
Luc: If you choose the latter, remind me to get a vomit bag. (Jumps in the shute han follows behind)
(The group lands in a giant pile of garbage and stand knee deep in dirty water)
Han: (To leia) Wow what an incredible smell you discovered!
Leia: At least it smells better than you!
Han: Princess If I didn’t need the reward money you’d be dead by now!
Leia: (Distractedly) Noted
(Han pulls out his blaster and fires at the door. The bolt does nothing and just bounces off of the magnetic walls nearly hitting luc in the back of the head till it explodes on a random piece of scrap metal.)
Leia: Are you trying to get us all killed?
Han: Sorry your highness but I wasn’t getting any other ideas from you!
(Suddenly a tentacle emerges from the gunk and wraps around Luc bullying them under the sludgy water)
Han: LUC! (Han dives in trying to grab Luc and pull them up. A few seconds later he comes up gasping for air) No use I can’t see a thing.
(The tentacle surfaces again with Luc still in its grasp then pulls them under once more. Han begins shooting blindly at where the tentacle had been. Suddenly the walls of the trash compactor start closing in and with a shriek the trash monster disappears. Luc surfaces gasping for breath)
Luc: (Gulps) You’re a terrible shot!
Han: Yeah thanks for trying to save me Han! No problem Luc!
Leia: There’s something more important happening! (Gestures at the walls) Get something to brace them!
(Han grabs a long metal pole thing from the trash and he and Leia push it up against the walls. It slows the walls but they’re still closing)
Han: One thing for sure we're all gonna be a lot thinner!
Luc: Great, we're in a horror movie! (Rebers their comlink and picks it up from their belt) THREEPIO!
(I’ll let pictures describe this scene)
(Sorry there are no pictures)
Threepio: Oh hello sir.
Luc: SHUT OFF ALL THE TRASH COMPACTORS!!!
Threepio: Oh dear! R2 shut off all the trash compactors.
(R2 and threepio are now waiting in the hangar by the falcon as they were kicked out of the control room by storm troopers. R2 beeps something as he messes with the computer and the walls stop closing in. Han, Leia, and Luc cheer.)
Threepio: Listen to them! They’re dying artoo! Curse my metal body! I wasn’t fast enough. It’s all my fault! Pour Sir Lucifer!
Luc: Hey guys you hear that Treepio cares if I die!
Threepio: Sir Lucifer! You’re alive!
Luc: Unfortunately! (Sits up straight to avoid the shoulder height sludge) Now get R2 to open the Dang door!
(The door opens and the group exits. Luc and Han down their stormtrooper armor (aside from the utility belts) because well they’ve been submerged in garbage sludge. Sucks to suck Leia and Chewbacca)
——————————
@xen-blank, @thehollowwriter, @l7k-a, @ferris-the-wheel, @keii-starz
@krenenbaker @elenauaurs @the-banana-0verlord @edith-is-a-cat @dove-da-birb
@theosb0rnway
I excluded anyone who didn’t specify a fandom let me know if you’d like to be added or removed
@sunshinechildskywalker, @xentari94 your not on my tag list but it’s Star Wars so I thought you might like it
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Dreams can come true
It’s different for everyone. Some of us figure it out when we’re in elementary school, others realize only very late into our lives. Me though? I’ve always known. Some of us interpret it as a very literal transformation; “I used to be a girl, now I’m a boy”. Others feel like we were always our “chosen” gender, simply forced by fate into a body we never asked for. I fall, very strongly, into the latter category. As long as I can remember, I dreamed of being a man, and I mean that very literally.
When I fell asleep, my dream self was quite different from my physical body, with broader shoulders, a square jaw, larger hands and feet, and a deep voice that fills any room I am in like an upright bass. It wasn’t always such a pronounced change of course. When I was very young, the differences were subtler, the unwanted waking nightmare of sexual dimorphism not yet wholly foisted upon me, but changes were still there. I always felt like something was wrong when I woke up to find myself with the long hair my mother insisted I couldn’t cut to the short length I desired. I remember once, after a birthday party, looking at myself in the mirror, wearing a nice, expensive dress I’d received as a gift, and thinking to myself how much happier I’d be wearing the suit I had on in my dreams the night before.
I didn’t have a word for it until high school though. My family was somewhat strict about my access to the internet and what sorts of films I was allowed to watch, so the first time I heard the word “transgender” was when I met someone else like me.
His name was Timothy, and in all truth we weren’t friends. Nobody was friends with Timothy, nobody wanted to hang out with the freak. There were many comments like “So if you’re a man, am I allowed to hit you?”, whispered slurs, and exaggerated caricatures drawn on scrap paper and surreptitiously passed around to a chorus of barely contained snickers. I’d like to say I never joined in, but peer pressure is a powerful force, especially when it comes to those of us who desperately want to fit in. I think part of me resented him too, for so flagrantly living the life I wanted to have. He wore a binder to flatten his chest, his hair was short and slicked back with gel, and he always dressed like someone out of a prior age, a holdover from an era of leather jackets, fast cars, and switchblades. I was jealous.
Eventually the bullying got bad enough that one of his bolder tormentors broke his arm. Nobody confessed to the act, and the school’s administration was less than cooperative in trying to find out who did it. Timothy’s parents wound up pulling him from school, and I never saw him again. My own parents saw it as a relief, saying that he was “a dangerous influence” and that his family should have sent him off to a psychologist rather than “indulging her delusions”. It was the first time I had ever heard them talk about someone like me, and the memory of my own mother and father describing with such vitriol how much they hated Timothy was permanently burned into my developing mind, a scar which I don’t think will ever heal.
I knew there was never any chance of being accepted by my family. At best, they’d see me as a victim of some perverted campaign to corrupt innocent young women into hating their bodies, at worst they’d treat me like a delusional freak. Either way, they would still see me as their daughter, and I very much doubt there is anything I could do to change that.
After so many years of being forced to hide who I am, I finally have the good fortune of living alone, far away from my parents and their bigotry. It was almost unbearable during the final few months of my living with them, when people like me became a political wedge and the hate spewing talking heads on the idiot box began telling horror stories of “groomers” and “radical gender ideology”. But I managed to get out and find a job. I was finally free to be myself. Well, more or less. I was out publicly to friends and coworkers, I bound my breasts, people called me Victor rather than the stupid name on my driver’s license, but in terms of actual medical treatment I was still stuck at square one.
The thing that they don’t tell you is it’s actually rather difficult to get on hormones, at least if you’re a transgender man. Estradiol and the like aren’t controlled substances, if worst comes to worst an uninsured trans woman can get her hands on some hormones via the gray market, and the process of getting a prescription is far quicker. Testosterone, however, is a Schedule III controlled substance, the same tier as anabolic steroids or ketamine. Getting a prescription is a bit more of an involved process, and going through unofficial channels could result in a felony if you get caught.
So, finally liberated from my family, I now had to deal with the frustration of the medical system. My crummy job working at a movie theater didn’t exactly have the best insurance plan, and by the time I did manage to get in touch with a doctor about getting an appointment set up, I was informed the soonest I could see someone would be several months at least. Without going into too much detail, certain conservative politicians in my state had made it rather difficult to get gender affirming care via telehealth, out of a fear that it would be too easy for “impressionable adolescents to permanently alter their bodies”. So I simply had to sit around and twiddle my thumbs, waiting for my turn at one of the rapidly dwindling number of clinics that offered consultations for getting on hormone replacement therapy.
Of course, I knew that hormones aren’t mandatory for being a “real man”, and I knew that even if I did manage to get on testosterone it wouldn’t make the bigots any more convinced of my masculinity, but I still couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness whenever I looked in the mirror. The reflection that stared back at me didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel like me. Do you have any idea how terrible it is to feel trapped in a body which is utterly wrong? To have your own flesh and blood betray you every second of every day?
I coped as best as I could, and spending time with supportive friends helped. But really, the most comforting thing throughout this ordeal was my dreams. Even if I couldn’t pass as male in the waking world, even if I had to deal with the “thank you miss”s and “howdy ma’am”s from the customers at work, when I slept it was as though my mind and body were in perfect alignment. It sometimes felt like my own mind was comforting me, covering me with a blanket of fantasy to soothe the pain. Even in my darkest nightmares, I always had a body that felt like it belonged to me.
Though my dreams are especially vivid while they last, I do find they tend to fade quite quickly upon awakening, something which has only seemed to get worse as I get older. To cope with this, I began to write down records of my nocturnal visions, first in a notebook, then later on a blog under the pseudonym of “DysphoricDreamer98”. I found it easier to reach for my phone to jot down a quick post while the memory was freshest than having to fiddle about with pen and paper. Besides, while my little blog wasn’t especially popular or anything, seeing people comment on my posts, especially other trans men, made me happy. It brought me a little joy to know I’m not alone.
Now, obviously I didn’t put out any sort of personal information on my blog. No photos, no mention of where I work, not my real name, Hell, not even which state I live in. This is why it was so odd when I found the package on my doorstep one morning, all wrapped up in brown paper and twine, addressed to DysphoricDreamer98. There was no return address, so I had no idea who could have sent it.
In a panic, I simply shut the door and left the package outside, running over to my computer to search the web to see if I’d been doxxed or something like that. I didn’t think I’d ever said anything particularly controversial, and it wasn’t as though I had any sort of wide audience. I wrote a digital dream journal with a follower count in the double digits for goodness sake, it’s not like I was a celebrity.
Once I was satisfied that I hadn’t had my personal information posted publicly or stolen in a leak of some sort, I opened my front door again and peaked out at the package, feeling oddly nervous, as if worried it was going to sprout teeth and bite me. After I was satisfied that it wasn’t going blow up or catch fire or anything like that, I brought it inside and set it down on my desk, cutting off the twine with my pocket knife and unwrapping it. I was greeted with an old wooden box, of the sort that would be used to hold expensive jewelry. It was covered all over with elaborate ornamentation, a combination of floral and geometric designs. There was something oddly hypnotic about the patterns formed by the embossed flowers and curving lines, and I spent about a minute simply admiring the craftsmanship of the thing before I actually set about opening it.
The contents of the box were a small glass vial filled with liquid, a metal syringe that looked as though it were fashioned in the Victorian era, and a note, written on very old parchment in elegant looking cursive. This is what it said:
Dear Sir,
You’ve spent every night dreaming of who you truly are. It is time to make those dreams into reality. Inject intramuscularly once per week, one milliliter. Expect results in 3-4 weeks.
Sincerely,
A friend
Now, I’m not stupid. Obviously I didn’t immediately start injecting myself with mysterious fluid I found in a box left on my front door by an anonymous stranger. As a matter of fact, my first thought was that someone was trying to poison me. I didn’t know who would want me dead, but given the circumstances I thought a little bit of paranoia was the healthiest approach to take. Part of me wondered if my family had somehow been informed of my blog, and were trying to discreetly assassinate me in order to ensure I’d never be able to medically or legally transition. I didn’t have any evidence of this, but it seemed far more logical than there being some hormone gifting Good Samaritan wandering about leaving vials of testosterone on the doors of disadvantaged trans men. Besides, whatever was contained within the vial didn’t look like testosterone, at least not in any form I was familiar with. It was tinged slightly purple, and seemed to sparkle when I held it up to the light.
I did consider calling the police, but I decided against it. Realistically all they’d do is confiscate the box, and I was worried that I could get in trouble if the contents of the vial did end up being some kind of poison or illicit substance. Besides, I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.
And so, I tried to do my best to forget about the box and its contents. I didn’t tell anyone about it, not even my friends, though I’m not entirely sure why that is. I suppose I may have rationalized it as trying to keep myself safe from being reported to the police, but that’s not really true. Something about it just felt private to me, inherently it was a subject that necessitated secrecy. Its presence kept nagging at me, however, and it never felt like I’d ever be fully able to erase it from my mind. Sometimes, I’d open up the box and just stare at the vial for a while, considering it silently, before shutting the lid and pushing it back under the bed.
Regardless, I managed to more or less successfully ignore the box for around a month. It was a combination of many discrete factors that led to me giving in, and even after what I’ve experienced and even though I know it was a stupid decision, I’m unable to bring myself to feel any sort of regret for it.
The day I gave in started off terribly, with my period having decided to start a day earlier than usual. I don’t feel very positively about my reproductive system at the best of times, and my distaste only grows deeper when it decides to punish me for not getting pregnant with a torrent of blood. After dealing with that unfortunate surprise, I was then faced with my biweekly phone call with my mother, during which I had to play the unfortunate role of dutiful daughter, gritting my teeth whenever she referred to me by the name she gave me instead of my real one, and clenching my hand into a fist as I expressed in the politest tones that I could muster that no, I did not have a boyfriend yet. When she started to go on a rant about the latest news story she’d seen about “woke indoctrination” in schools, I made up some excuse about poor connection and ended the call. Then it was time for work.
The gendered politeness of the South is truly a tailor made Hell for people like me, and that day saw a constant stream of “ma’am”s and “miss”s that culminated in an elderly gentleman remarking “If you don’t mind me sayin’ miss, you are quite the beautiful young woman” while I tried very hard not to strangle him. But really, truly, I think that the deciding factor that made me open up that box and try my luck with my anonymous benefactor’s vial of mystery fluid was the text message I received as I walked through my front door, informing me that my consultation had been postponed again.
I’ll be honest, when I readied that first injection, part of me hoped it was poison. It wasn’t a large part of me, but that urge to just give up, embrace the call of the void and descend into a peaceful oblivion, it was there. “To sleep, perchance to dream”, as Shakespeare put it. When nonexistence no longer frightens you, it is far easier to take risks.
I didn’t use the syringe that came with the box. While it seemed to be in pristine condition, I didn’t trust something that looked that old, and I certainly had no desire to contract tetanus or something. I walked down to the farm supply store across from my apartment building and purchased some sterile syringes and needles there instead. When I got back to the apartment I spent a few minutes looking up where was best to inject, how to make sure I avoided pricking any veins and arteries, etc., until I finally felt fairly confident that I could actually do it successfully. There was no stalling after that, I didn’t want to give myself a chance to change my mind. I popped the cork on the vial, got a milliliter of that strange purple fluid into the syringe, and plunged the needle into my thigh.
It hurt far less than I thought it would, if I’m being honest. If you’d asked me before that day if I would have been able to perform injections myself, I’d have told you no. I’ve always felt slightly uncomfortable whenever I had to get a vaccine or have a blood test done, something about needles just made me deeply nervous. But this felt right, and outside of a slight pinch and some pressure as I pushed down the plunger, it was largely painless.
I pulled out the needle and applied a small bandage to the tiny puncture mark, though the needle was so thin no blood actually welled up at all. Then I went to bed early, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day.
I woke up the next morning, writing down my latest dream on my blog in the haze of half-consciousness, and then got out of bed, pleasantly noting that I was not, in fact, dead. Whatever the liquid in the vial was, it at the very least wasn’t toxic. There wasn’t even so much as a raised bump at the injection site. Thus began my routine of injecting the purplish mystery fluid into my thigh every Friday before bed.
Just as the note said, it was around the 4 week mark when I started to actually see results. I was washing my face as part of my morning routine when I noticed something faint on my upper lip. I looked closer to see it was a few dark hairs, sprouting out from the previously smooth skin of my face. Excitedly, I looked closer, seeing with delight that all over my jaw, here and there, little hairs were poking up from my flesh. I was beginning to grow facial hair. As a matter of fact, on closer inspection of the rest of my me, I was beginning to grow more hair all over my body. It wasn’t as though I’d awoken looking like Bigfoot, but it was a noticeable change from my appearance the night before. I was ecstatic.
Now, I have to be honest here, I didn’t actually know exactly how quickly testosterone was supposed to work, nor what the exact effects were. It may seem lazy but I never really had sat down to read out how long it would take, what specific results I could expect to see, etc. I think a part of me always saw it as a borderline unachievable fantasy, so there was no reason for me to ever look up the details. However, even I should have known better than to think what happened was normal.
For one thing, the injections worked fast. Once the four week mark was hit and the changes began, it was like a dam had broken. By 5 weeks my voice was already starting to deepen. 6 weeks in and I was able to grow a faint mustache. 7 weeks and I had chest hair. Looking back on it now, it should have been obvious to me that this was too fast. These sorts of things take months and years to accomplish, not weeks. There was a faint tinge of nervousness during the 12th week as I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I was taller than I was before. It was the first hint that something was wrong. Testosterone can do a lot of things, but it can’t change your bone structure.
That wasn’t the only sign that something was off. I began to get these feelings of deja vu on occasion, about once a week, and I could never place exactly what it was. I didn’t keep track of every time it happened, obviously, but I do remember a few of the most noteworthy examples.
The first time was when I was doing a bit of shopping downtown and saw a street performer, a clown riding atop a penny farthing bicycle. He wasn’t frightening at all, I’ve never been afraid of clowns, but there was something unsettling about him. He didn’t seem to fit in with his surroundings as he glided through the crowd, occasionally honking his horn and taking his hands off the handlebars to juggle some balls. Nobody else seemed to pay him any mind though, they just kept on walking past him. He seemed so familiar, and I struggled to try and remember if I’d seen him in some viral video or something.
Another incident I remember was at work. I was selling tickets, when a pair of customers walked up to the booth in lockstep. They were identical twins, each the spitting image of the other, and wore the exact same style of formal black suit.
“We’re here-” started the one on the left.
“-to purchase some tickets-” continued the twin on the right.
“-for the 2 o’ clock show” finished the first twin.
The pair of them frankly freaked me out, but I didn’t want to be rude, so I did as they asked and got them their tickets. They paid in cash, using only 2 dollar bills. They bowed in unison after I handed them their tickets, and then marched in time to the theater I had indicated. I actually checked the purchase logs later to make sure I hadn’t imagined it all, as well as looking in the register to see if their 2 dollar bills were still there, and everything was still there. Like with the clown, the oddest part was that they seemed so familiar, as if their names were right on the tip of my tongue.
I had another encounter at a thrift store. I was shopping for some new clothes (my increased height was making some of my older outfits not fit particularly well) when I was approached by a short gentleman with white hair, who asked me “Can I help you to find anything sir?”
I turned to respond that I was fine, when I noticed that his eyes were two different colors, one blue, one brown. Something about this made my mind scream at me to remember, that this was someone who I had met before, but I just couldn’t place my finger on why. I stuttered out some noncommittal grunt and he nodded before walking away. I stumbled out of the thrift store without buying anything and went straight home.
The most recent incident is what made me put all the pieces together. I was taking a nighttime walk, something I felt more comfortable doing now due to my increased bulk and deeper voice. I felt safer knowing that any creeps would be less likely to see me as a potential target, plus I’d been hitting the gym so I felt confident in my ability to fight off anyone who’d try. I was thinking about how much my life had improved since I’d gotten the package, and wondering about what I’d do once the vial had run out. There were only a couple doses left, but my HRT consultation was only a few days away. Should I try and get more of what I was already taking, or should I switch over to a more legitimate source? It wasn’t as though I had any method through which to contact my anonymous benefactor. As I pondered this, I heard a faint hissing noise from a nearby alley, a “pssst” like someone was trying to beckon me inside.
I peered down the alleyway cautiously, trying to get a good look at whoever was trying to attract my attention. I could see the faint outline of a figure hidden partially by the shadows, but I couldn’t make out any details. I gently touched my pocket knife, just to remind myself it was still there, and then stepped into the alley.
I know it sounds like a stupid decision, and it was, but at that moment I thought that they may have been the mysterious “friend” who’d given me the vial in the first place. I figured they may have wanted to deliver the next supply in person, and frankly I wanted to thank them for changing my life. I was still nervous, of course I was, but after all that had happened I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.
I stepped into the alley, cautiously, and made my way over to the figure. They hissed at me again, beckoning for me to come closer with a gloved hand. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw that they were a thin man in a long overcoat, wearing a wide brimmed hat and, despite the night, a pair of dark sunglasses. They looked like some sort of secret agent stock character. His mouth was stretched wide in a toothy grin. When I was about 10 feet from him, I stopped, and asked “Hello? Are you the person who gave me the package? With the vial?”
Without moving a muscle on his face, he hissed at me again, and then held up his hand in front of his face. Using his other hand, he began to slowly pull off the glove. It was hard to tell at first, in the darkness of the alley, what exactly I was seeing, besides the simple fact that the human brain has difficulty recognizing that which ought not to be. His fingers shone slightly as they moved sinuously in the pale reflected light of the far away streetlamps, glittering like stars. Then he began to walk towards me with shaky steps, and I realized with a sudden shock what I was looking at.
The man’s fingers were snakes.
I tried to back away, but he lunged for me, hissing erupting from his writhing fingers as they latched onto my shoulder, extending out several feet from his arm. I didn’t feel them break skin, however, fortunately my denim jacket seemed to take the brunt of it. I slashed at the wriggling serpents with my pocket knife and ran when they retreated from the flashing blade. I kept running all the way home, and didn’t stop running until I was safely in my apartment with the door firmly locked and bolted.
Despite the completely surreal and impossible nature of what had just happened, it all felt so familiar, and finally the gears in my brain started to move, and I realized what it was that linked all of the strange interactions I had. I turned on my computer, and went to check my blog, searching up keywords and reading through my recorded dreams with a sense of dawning horror.
September 12th, 2023
Dreamed I was a lion tamer in some sort of circus. The lions were full of stuffing, one accidentally got caught on some fencing and was ripped open, the audience loved it. They were still heavy though, I lifted one up and everyone cheered. I guess I was a strongman as well as a lion tamer. Dream ended with a clown on an old fashioned bicycle riding across a tightrope over a big pool of water. The ringmaster said the pool was full of piranhas, but all I saw were what looked like eels or big worms. I woke up when the clown fell off his bike.
October 24th, 2023
I was a knight, going to save a princess who was trapped in a big floating tower. Accompanied by a sloth for some reason. On the way there, encountered a very polite two headed ogre. Each head would finish the other’s sentences, and it would bow at me frequently. Eventually reached the tower, but the princess was happy there, and told me to go away. Woke up soon after.
November 17th, 2023
In an old library, trying to do some research for something, can’t remember what. Went to go get help from a librarian, but he was a husky with two different colored eyes, one blue, one brown*. Got distracted by this and we got to talking for the rest of the dream, my research forgotten. It was very philosophical, but I can’t actually really remember what we talked about much. He did call me a “handsome young man” though.*
January 2nd, 2023
Nightmare. Man made of snakes. Don’t want to think about it.
I sat back in my chair, one hand over my mouth. I felt sick. This wasn’t possible, this wasn’t something that could be real. I told myself that I must be hallucinating, that it couldn’t possibly be real life, but then I looked over at the shoulder of my jacket and noticed the bite marks in the rough fabric. There was even a broken off fang sticking out. I thought about the strange twins and their 2 dollar bills in the register. Besides, it wasn’t as though I was the only person who had noticed the changes to my body. My friends and coworkers had commented on it, customers addressed me as “sir”, I had to buy new clothes to fit my changed physique. This was real. Whatever it was I had been taking, it was making my dreams into reality.
There was a knock on my front door. I got up and checked the peephole, but nobody was there. Opening the door, I saw a new package, wrapped up in brown paper and tied up with string. It was addressed to DysphoricDreamer98.
I don’t know what to do from here. I’ve spent the past day just going through all the posts on my blog tagged “nightmare”, weighing the pros and cons of continuing my treatment. The package lies unopened on my kitchen table, for now. You’ve got to understand, this substance, whatever it is, has made me happier than I’ve ever been before, but I’m worried for my safety. I got lucky this time, I managed to get away, but what about the next time? And the time after that? Do I risk acting out my nightmares in the waking world to live the life that makes me happy?
To make matters worse, I got a text message. My consultation has once again been pushed back another 3 weeks. I don’t even have the luxury of a third option. I have to choose between going cold turkey or sticking with whatever my “friend” has sent me.
I hope I make the right decision.
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Rain tapped against the classroom windows, lulling Nene into a light sleep.
Just as she closed her heavy eyes, a soft voice called her awake once more,
“Yashiro-san?”
Humming in response, Nene raises her head from her crossed arms to look up at one of her classmates.
Blinking in surprise, it was the girl that sat in front of her, Tanaka Yuki. She was a part of the student council and intelligent.
“I…” Yuki trails off, tugging her soft black hair. Her brown eyes looked at Nene with concern, “I just wanted to see if you’re okay,”
Nene nods her head slowly.
Yuki nodded to herself, “Good. Good. As our class rep. — and a part of the student council, I have to make sure my peers are at optimal performance,” she paused, her smile tightened, “I suggest you… have a bit more effort in maintaining a healthy attitude while you are on school grounds, Yashiro-san.”
Nene’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “huh?”
“Oh!” Yuki gasped dramatically, “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just letting you know that this streak of showing up late, being so predecessor visibly injured, and, well–” she glanced to the side, tilting her head, “other behavioral indicators of being a delinquent is, quite frankly, ruining our reputation as not only a school but our class.”
Nene’s red droopy eyes stared at her, unblinking, “...You think I’m a delinquent?”
“No!” the dark-haired girl shook her head, “No, no. I don’t… but we have been receiving letters from concerned parents and students regarding our school’s atmosphere,”
Yuki smiled at her, “Just… wear the winter uniform from now on and smile, okay?”
Why not stop the people bullying? Nene thought, her eyes settling on the desk in front of her. After all, she has seen it. The entire student council sees it.
Nene nodded.
“Good to see you so cooperative!” She giggled, twirling her hair with a finger, “Well, that wraps up what I was required to discuss with you….”
Nene nods again. She couldn’t help but think that Yuki would keep talking. Maybe it was her way of being kind, not letting anyone come to harass her, even if it was only for a few minutes,
“I actually had a bit of a personal question, if you don’t mind,”
Personal? Nene knew she couldn’t afford to let anyone get close, she started to shake her head, but Yuki paid no mind to her refusal,
“Why did you start growing your hair out?”
Nene inhaled sharply, furrowing her eyebrows,
“Um… It’s not like a big deal or anything. It’s just… you had short hair a couple of years ago and suddenly started growing it. I was just curious!”
Nene hummed, tugging on a strand of her hair, “I grew my hair out… because… Someone I was friends with said that I should,”
Ao-chan said boys liked long hair… Hanako-kun liked my hair.
Yuki giggles at that, “Friend? You don’t have any, though,”
“Um…” Nene looked out the window briefly before staring at her desk once more, “I—”
“Oh my goodness!” She laughed, “I totally didn’t mean to say that. I was so just joking with you!”
Yuki… almost seemed embarrassed,
“Tanaka, Yashiro, Shouldn’t you be going to your clubs?” A male voice called out to them,
Nene quickly looked at the doorway, finding Tsuchigomori standing there, a binder in his hand,
“Apologizes, Tsuchigomori-sensei!” Yuki bowed, giggling at Nene, “I hope we don’t need to discuss this again, Yashiro-san~!”
Nene watched her bounce to the door, slipping by her teacher.
Tsuchigomori walked into the room, “...You know you should join a club, Yashiro,”
Sighing, Nene stared at her desk once more, “I don’t want to,”
-unfinished.
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South Park HC's Part 2 BAY-BEE
My last HC post got a lil interaction, plus I felt like writing some more because I love the little skrunkles so much SRDBVCDHGBJHGVIFCTV enjoy these !!!
WENDY
He/She/They, Genderfluid/Pansexual, half black
Favorite color is blue, but has mostly purple stuff
Decent friends with Kenny and Butters, they borrow each others clothes and Kenny gives them makeovers
They also have sleepovers together and watch horror movies that Henrietta lends/watches with them
Goes by Wendyll at school and Wendy to his close friends
Cut his hair to shoulder length because it was easier to maintain
Also ran into Cartman at the animal shelter because she wanted to volunteer and now she blackmails him
Vegetarian and student body president, hardcore activist
Loves to play the piano
Plays minecraft and is really good at shooter games
Dresses in skater fashion when masc, has likes 4 binders in different colors to match his outfits
Has like 700k on youtube and blew up on tiktok because he ruthlessly bullies conservatives online (also because he's conventionally attractive)
TOLKIEN
He/Him, Gynosexual, Gender apathetic
Doesn't care if people see him as a guy because he just does what he wants
Likes to knit in secret, knitted Kyle a new hat to practice crotchet and pretended he 'Just saw it at the store'
Has an etsy shop selling his crochet products
Chick magnet which caused Stan to HATE him at one point
Sleeps often during the day due to insomnia
Watches horror videos with Clyde because his reactions are funny
Good at math, but terrible at biology or anything science related
Has a scar going from his shoulder to his forearm from a biking accident
Can dance really well and won a few school elementary talent shows by getting sturdy
CLYDE
He/Him, Straight, white hispanic
Literally the biggest crybaby ever
Makes Tolkien watch horror vids with him so he doesn't cry
Has pissed his pants going to halloween mazes/scare attractions
Used to quote the joker thinking it was cool, now does it as a joke
Eats snow religiously, doesn't do it so much after he accidently ate yellow snow
LOVES oreos, has a sleeve of them in his bag and locker because he's always hungry
Likes sports way more then the average person
He cannot take care of his hair for some reason
HORRIBLE at speaking spanish, tries to flirt with girls in his spanish class anyways just for them to correct him
JIMMY
He/Him, Unlabeled, white atheist
Class clown lowkey
Let's his friends occasionally put stickers on his forearm crutches
Still a comedian, constantly being on stages makes him damn near unphased by public speaking
Likes to wear knitted fingerless gloves (courtesy of Tolkien) because his hands feel sore sometimes from standing and leaning on his crutches 24/7
Can only cook kraft mac and cheese, doesn't work out because he doesn't even like mac and cheese
Lactose intolerant to hell; Devours more dairy products than anyone you have ever met in your life
Failing art class because he cannot draw if his life depended on it
Has braces due to an underbite, still makes fun of Craig for having braces despite this
In charge of the schools social media accounts and announcements, has to edit out every time he calls something 'gay'
OMG AHHHH I love writing out headcanons and these were so enjoyable to write, I am gonna post more stuff tomorrow kekekeke
Thank you for reading btw! I'm gonna post art and stuff tomorrow but I kinda didn't feel like it today so I am sorry grggrgrg
#south park#wendy testaburger#tolkien black#clyde donovan#jimmy valmer#everyone mentioned is about 16#MY FAVORITE SILLY GUYS
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Internalized Misogyny & Gender Identity
I am not a trans man, and I don’t think I ever wanted to be a trans man, I just didn’t want to be myself. I came to the conclusion that I must be trans when I started going through puberty which is very telling now that I’m an adult looking back on that phase of my life. Everyone feels uncomfortable during puberty, but my discomfort with the changes I was experiencing was so intense I wanted an escape from womanhood. I’ve never fully confronted these feelings and I’m only doing so now because I came across a video on YouTube by someone who detransitioned and shares almost the same experience as me. It inspired me.
I was always one of the boys and the label “tomboy” was heavily pushed onto me. I remember being obsessed with that label because it felt like I was being praised for not being like the other girls my age. I do think this label was harmful because combined with being ostracized by the girls, it made me think I was actually meant to be a boy. Around this time was when I discovered I liked girls just as much as I liked boys, which made the boys see me as one of them even more. I didn’t know what transgender was at this point and didn’t even think of myself as bisexual. I considered myself a lesbian.
I think another factor was my lack of control, especially in my appearance. I was forced to wear dresses and my Catholic school had a strict dress code that enforced that girls must wear skirts no matter what. For years, I hated these articles of clothing because I didn’t have control over when I would wear them, but even when I identified as a trans man, I didn’t have control over my appearance because I had to appeal to what was expected of me now that I was identifying as a boy. Even now as a woman who identifies with all pronouns, people still place expectation onto me because of my previous gender identity. I hate being asked if I’m still identifying as a boy or when people notice I’m more feminine because it’s actually quite embarrassing. I went years forcing myself to abide by the confines of the stereotypical boy even after I realized I don’t feel trans because I was scared to harm the trans community even though I’m an unknown case. I was scared to tell my mother because of all the pain I put her through throwing tantrums because she wouldn’t let me cut my hair, take me to a therapist and buy me binders right away. She still holds that against me and thinks I was just an unruly child, but I was desperately trying to claw my way out of myself because my body was changing, and I didn’t know how to cope with it as a 9–10-year-old and even later as a teen. It didn’t help that my mother was making comments on my body and telling me things like "You have such a cute stomach.” I’m still so scared to wear certain things around my mother because I feel her eyes looking at all the things she used to have before getting old. Those feelings made me start binding and wearing baggy clothes. I didn’t want to be ogled at.
I remember asking my mother if I sounded like a boy and trying to drop my voice, only for her to just say “No” to me. I hated my voice and wanted it to be deeper so badly, and now it is and I’m so happy I didn’t take testosterone to prematurely drop it. Due to bullying, I didn’t feel pretty and thought I would look better as a boy. Many of my “crushes” on boys were just because I wanted to look just like them and confused the transpo-admiration for romantic feelings. Part of me did think it was weird that I had a million crushes at once, but I just went for the guy I felt the most “attracted” to and pretended like they were my one & only. I started straying away from identifying as transgender when I felt like I had to identify with my birth sex to be with certain boys I liked who were completely straight and uncomfortable with calling me their boyfriend. I started getting frustrated with how limiting the label “transgender” became but felt that I had already gone too far with this new me that I couldn’t just go back on everything I said. It was frustrating still not being able to wear the clothes I want and not being able to do the things I want because I would risk not being taken seriously as a trans boy, but I had to press on because that’s what I wanted, right? I wanted to be a boy and if that’s what it took to be a boy, then I was willing to suffer. At some point I realized I wasn’t being strict with my pronouns and actually hated when my pronouns were even mentioned at all. My mother would mess up and correct herself in an over-the-top manner that made it so obvious that she messed up, and I was just tired of it being a problem, so I stopped correcting people all together. Something I experience a lot is being infantilized by people because they think they’re doing the right thing by expressing how supportive they are and how welcome I am, but it feels uncomfortable, and I just want to be treated like a normal person rather than be questioned and talked up the wazoo about my identity. I don’t even think anyone in the LGBTQ community wants to be constantly reassured that they’re in a safe place and that they’re normal. If we’re so normal, why not talk to us like straight/cisgender people? Anyhoo..
I’m still learning how to love and accept myself, and womanhood. I’m glad I have the rest of my life to experience all the girly things, but I’m sad that I wasted my childhood and teen years being so miserable with myself. Can’t wait to be an old woman and not even remember any of this.
#lgbtqia#lgbtq#transgender#internalized misogyny#puberty#gender identity#self acceptance#blog#blog post
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To The New Home!
part 1 of the series...
writer: This is my first fic with my original character James I hope you enjoy it! There will be more content coming soon!
Main Character: James
Additional Characters: His dad and his mother.
TW: nausea, dysphoria, etc
James and his family are on a road trip to their new home. Things are ok until the ride takes a turn. His parents panic and scramble around but try to make things better. James ends up upset but his parents comfort him in the end.
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They were off! Off to a new life. Off to a new home. To a new place to call home. New school. He'd be able to make new friends, There be no more bullies. His parents made sure of that. Making sure the new place they called home was open and welcoming to progression. No more of that stuffy closed minded town.
He knew his parents did everything in their power to make sure James was safe and happy. He was thankful for his parents he couldn't think of any other people he loved more.
He sat in the back seat of the family car. The wind from the window blew in his slightly overgrown curly hair. ( he was promised by his mom that she'd give him another hair cut and when he felt ready his dad would take him to get a professional hair cut) He was thankful that his parent was so supportive of him.
The car was packed to the max with their belongings. But, Some things they just couldn't bring. So his parents decided they were gonna buy new things to put in the house. One big item he really wished they could have brought from their old house somehow was the couch. It was a big old but very comfortable beaten up with love couch. He had a lot of memories on that couch. He laughed on that couch, he cried on that couch he puked on that couch by accident two times. The first time not to his parent's knowledge but non the less. His parents told him he was finally allowed to take Testosterone on that couch. Even though it was just a couch he was really gonna miss it.
He was so glad to be moving. it's not something you hear very often from a kid but he really was. The other kids at school had been bullying him to the point of constantly being in pain. physically and mentally. He hid it from his parents not wanting them to be worried because they were finally in a good financial position. And didn't want to give them any more stress they deserved to have time to not feel stressed. It was hard to hide after being given a black eye and a fractured wrist. To his luck, it wasn't too serious and was fixed with surgery and this annoying cast he was stuck wearing. for a few months.
The blue bandage still had his ex-best friend's name on it. JAMAL . He'd crossed it out but he could still see it. The best friend that betrayed him. He told the school bully his secret. He vowed to himself to never again let anyone know he was trans. But he didn't want to think about that or his ex-best friend anymore he just wanted to enjoy the ride.
All of that was behind him and he wanted to focus on the positives. 1. he's getting another haircut soon, 2. He's moving 3. no more bullies
And the thing he was so excited about was the thing that kept his head up high no matter what happened. His doctor finally allowed him to start taking T!. The doctor explained that because of several factors in his life, and the discussions with his therapist. The doctor and his therapist felt like this was an ok move to make. He was so glad he finally could. He'd been wanting to ever since he was 13 but his parents, doctors, and therapist felt that it wasn't the best thing to do at the time, this upset him and he eventually became depressed for years feeling dysphoric in his body. His parents helped him the most. Doing whatever it took to help him look the way he felt inside.
clothes, packers, binders, anything at all to help. Any trick or tip to help dysphoria they learned it all to help him. He couldn't thank them enough.
He was so lost in thought he hadn't even noticed the car pulling into the gas station. " James," his father says in a singing tone. I'm about to go head in pay for gas and grab a few things." "wanna come?" " now would be a good time to hit the bathroom before we go." it will be a loooonggg stretch before we see another gas station."
'sure dad" James unclicked his seatbelt and opened the door. His mother waiting patiently by at the gas tank. He didn't really need to go to the bathroom to pee but he did want to take a break from his pants for a bit they were getting uncomfortable on his new downstairs friend. His doctor told him it was normal, and it was kinda cool it helped with dysphoria but it didn't make it any less annoying to have. It was bothering him quite a bit but he didn't like to talk about it. It felt like a weird thing to talk about...
James and his dad went inside to pay for gas. His dad watched him like a hawk as James went ahead to the bathroom as he paid. He wanted him so to be safe while entering the men's bathroom. His father knew it could be unsafe for him. It would be unsafe for any child. But James was 16 years old he was going up fast. He knew he had to give James space to grow and learn. He also knew James was prone to make good decisions.
Once James and his father were finished with their task they grabbed snacks that they'd all share and headed out. They found James' mother on her phone making last-minute emails. She always found a way to keep busy with work. She immediately dropped her phone the moment they announced that they grabbed her favorite snack. James and His father loved the expression mom made when she ate and saw her favorite snack. Her face would light up when she saw it. It made them happy too.
to be continued...
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My OCs
Okay, so...
Okami Kuki is someone who is intersex but goes by she/they pronouns. However, they aren't very feminine besides having long hair and being a bit curvy under her baggy clothing. They wear a binder under their clothing (you can see a little of it) which makes them always be mistook as trans a lot. They don't mind it, but others pushing more questions about her sex piss them off.
They may act cocky but, really, they aren't. Honestly, Okami's very modest and, even though they're choosing to be a Daylight Hero, doesn't actually like being in the spotlight. She just wants to help others grow and be seen. They're very strategic, but her overthinking and anxiety holds them back unless they say "Fuck it, I'm yolo-ing it!"
Her quirk, Wolf Inferno, is like Shoto's: Two different components that aren't related for one power. I based it off of that game "Okami" where you're the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu. It was cool and I had a fun time playing it. Although Okami has the capabilities of a wolf and can manipulate fire, there are a lot of limits I put because of how OP I made the quirk. The only part she has no problem with is the emitter part of their quirk, easy to control, but stresses her nervous system as that's what control it. Her overuse sign is a heavy migraine and ringing in the ears.
Their enhanced senses and physical being are in the way most of the time as she has no control over them.
The pros:
She can hear from 6 to 10 miles, smell up to a mile
Insane stamina, as wolves are the best animal marathoners, with the possibility of traveling up to 100 miles in a day with no rest.
Speed can be 5 mph when walk (or trotting) and 30-45 mph when it comes to short distances.
Strong vocal cords to produce sounds for communicating large distances
The cons:
She can hear from 6 to 10 miles. Imagine how many secrets they've figured out on mistake because a mutant quirk never shuts off. Imagine the stress to keep said secrets a secret. Also, hearing like that can be damaged if not taken care of.
Insane stamina = Extra Energy. Burning off energy that can be used to walk 100 miles shouldn't be taken lightly. Also, Okami isn't really high energy. They don't sleep well as they should, which make 100 miles more like 15.
Wolves are carnivores (meat-eaters, so you don't have to search it up) that can eat up to 9 kilograms of food in one sitting. Okami craves meat a lot because of this and it need to be in their diet. Luckily, wolves also eat vegetation to keep healthy, so she has a substitute.
There's always this hood of loneliness over their mind, because wolves are pack animals. Her instincts really impact their relationships with others, because she needs affection to calm said instincts. Also makes Okami very protective of people she cares about. There are times of certain... urges, but they aren't relevant right now. Yes, she's 15, going onto 16. But "that" I only made apply to actual love, not simply physical attraction.
Finally, grooming. You read right, grooming. A fur coat is high maintenance, matted (clumped up) fur is very uncomfortable.
Now let's talk trauma, we have:
Parental Issues - From foster parents, calling her a mutt and a dog
Domestic Abuse - Many of her things were thrown into fire. Makes them get emotional attachment to certain things and cause her to become feral
Psychological Bullying - A mix of both homophobia and transphobia from the female population of their school. Caused misogynistic tendencies towards most girls her age. Why not Maya? Even she doesn't know
Amnesia - Little to no memory of their parents, and it became a touchy subject
Abandonment Issues - Was told their parents most likely abandoned them and didn't want her. A wolf needs a pack and she only found it when she moved to Hawaii... temporarily that is
Imposter Syndrome - Always feels like something is wrong with them, like she's a fake and they don't belong
Kuki was originally from the MHA timeline (born like a month after Midoriya) but got into a quirk accident when she was 13 years-old. This accident changed her entire life as she was sent back to when the glowing baby showed up and quirks started to appear.
With little to no memory of her past life, they attacked police officers at the scene (out of fear) and were sent to a mental asylum for investigation.
Back at where her parents (who are pro heroes) are, they were able to make a worldwide search for the culprit. The culprit was found but the search for her was dropped and made headlines. Parents during the present timeline literally say to their children "Be careful. You don't want to end up like that kid from 2 years ago."
With Okami, she was put into foster care where they assumed Okami would be well taken care of. Spoiler Alert! She wasn't. They got treated like trash, at both school and at home, and ended up on an isolated island called Hawaii because that was where the only family that would take them live for the next year.
(Hawaii has major history with Japan. There's many Japanese tourists in the summer and transfer students. Thought it'd be a nice detail for rich kids. Hawaii's school campuses, from elementary to college, are also very open due to the law. No building can be taller than the tallest palm tree.)
Now, Maya Aoitori Takami is Hawks' adopted daughter on paper. However, due to their close ages, they act more like siblings. She's your average girl: sticks to dress code, meh grades, very lean and flexible when it comes to physical build.
She's small but she's fierce, and feeds into Okami's affection need a lot. Maya's quirk, Peregrine, allows her to do anything a peregrine falcon can do. This includes their amazing eye sight and ability to dive at high speed of 240 mph, which makes them the fastest bird in the world. Her quirk, however, is transformative, not a mutant-type.
(You don't wanna know how long it took to get her wings right. Also, I get my facts straight from Wild Kratts, very trusted source right there!)
Her quirk isn't that problematic or hard to deal with as Okami's. Just, wings are heavy, even if they have hollow bones, and also the need for extra blood flow. Maya's overuse sign is that she goes anemic. I've mentioned that the wings need blood, yes? Her feet can also turn into talons, which I've incorporated into her hero costume. Her costume's in the works, I have what it needs, but I haven't done the full design. Unlike Okami's who costume wasn't planned to be complex, until the winter costume that is...
Also, Maya has ADHD, it doesn't affect her fieldwork, but her grades show the impact. Maya's quirk was, in fact, based off Wild Kratts. It's cheesy, I know, but Maya's character design has evolved over the years.
Maya was originally named Tristan before I discovered one of many things about myself. What can I say? Middle school is my time of discovery.
She also doesn't have as much trauma as Okami. Just abandonment issues as she lived on her own in the streets because, well, she was abandoned.
(I need to put more thought into her character bg, I know! I just don't want to put too much as I want her to be a little happy-go-lucky to contrast to Okami's sharp attitude. I'll also re-upload the pictures after I get to hero names and all that in my story.)
#boku no hero academia#bnha oc#my hero academia#mha oc art#character concept#character backstory#ao3 author#fanfiction#a03 writer#bnha fanart
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HEY HEY CAN YOU DO THE OBEY ME BROTHER REACTING TO TRANS!READER???😋
Brothers with a trans! Boyfriend!
Ft: trans male mc! He/him!!
Part 1! Part 2! (Not made yet!)
CW: needles, cussing, dysphoria, established relationship
Fem aligned Dni
Idk if you mean like what their relationship would be like or coming out to them but I’m gonna write both!! Idk if you wanted trans male or not but I’ll probably make a more Gn!/non-binary post soon that’s similar!! This might be long sobs but ty for the request and I hope you enjoy it!
Older brothers!
Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan
Genre: fluff/comfort
Lucifer:
Coming out to him:
Would be really supportive probably give you a hug and kiss your forehead and just let you cry or just stay in a comfortable silence. Just holds you and tells you how lovely and brave you are for telling him even tho he’d already had figured it out.
“My prince it’s alright, I love you dearly nothing will ever change that”
Helps you adjust and change your name in the records at RAD. Buys you a super expensive binder that’s like the best quality if you don’t own one already. And asks you if you need anything from him to help you feel more comfortable.. also would help pay for your surgeries/ Testosterone if your looking to get it.
Your relationship w him:
Would be honored to help you with taking t shots if you’d let him.. he’d let you hold his hand/shoulder if it hurts
Would lend you his cologne if you don’t own some already…(totally not bc he gloats the fact that you now smell like him and takes pride in it)
Let’s you in his study and sit on his lap or lays you down and holds you with your head on his chest and whispers sweet nothings in your ear if your dysphoria is acting up
If anyone misgenders you consider them dealt with you’ll probably never see them again… bc he said and I quote “it was taken care of”💀
Mammon:
Coming out to him:
sees you sobbing and stuttering to get your words out and Kinda low key freaks out.. not bc your trans but bc he doesn’t know how to react and comfort you well his gears are turning and steam is coming out of his head..
“Baby boy c’mere.. I ain’t really good at this whole comfort thing but.. just know that yer precious to me my treasure I’ll love ya forever okay, The Great Mammon will always be here for ya. Now let’s get ya cleaned up yeah?”
Hugs you and let’s you cry and rant if you need to. You to end up cuddling in one of his shirts while your latched onto each other.
Relationship with him:
Would probably freak out if you asked him to help you with your T shot. Would be to scared he’ll mess up or hurt ya but would end up doing up bc he wants you to feel as comfortable as possible and is a little flustered at the thought that you trust him to help you
Throws all his clothes at you… he’d take you shopping the next day but prefers you wear his clothes bc “I ain’t wasting my precious grim on yer stupid clothes when you can just where mine ya got that!” really just wants to see you in his t shirt gets really possessive and holds you with his face in your neck loves the smell of yours and his mashing together he gets that stupid grin on his face.
Beats the shit out of anyone who misgenders you/bullies you and cussed them out.. you might to to pull him off “STFU YOUR JUST JEALOUS MY BOYFRIEND IS THE HOTTEST MANLIEST MAN IVE EVER SEEN !! YOU DONT EVEN COMPARE TO HIM!.. right MC- Oi?! why ya dragging me off they deserve it?!” He’s a bit much with it but he means well and you know he loves you he’s trying his best- 💀
If you’re comfortable/had top surgery with it he likes to lay his head on your chest and play with your hair (if you’ve had top surgery he likes to kiss your scars if you let him)<3
If your dysphoria is acting up he picks you up and drags you to his room and leaves to make you both ramen and bring snacks bc you’ll now be stuck in his room cuddling and watching movies while he comforts you and smothers you with affection till you forget you were even upset abt your dysphoria in the first place.
Leviathan:
Coming out to them:
Starts shaking but silently wraps you into a hug and puts his face in your hair to calm down and breathes bc he’s scared his words won’t come out right.
“H-hey it’s ok I’m h-here, you’re still my Henry you always w-will be so don’t worry ok? Lets go in my room we can play your favorite game if you w-want I can grab some of your favorite snacks and we can maybe.. I-uh h-hold each other or something IDK ah-!”
You embrace him tighter and smile at him and thank him for being so kind and accepting. He shoves his whole face in the crook of your neck to gif his heating face.
Relationship with them:
Would be super understanding and supportive I head canon him to be trans or at least a Demi boy and I feel like he would relate to wishing you had something somebody else had.
Would be rlly good at helping you if you were having a bad dysphoria day would grab all your favorite snacks and play your favorite anime/ game w you. And he won’t put up any fight if you wanna be super affectionate bc he knows you both love it and you want his comfort rn. Spooning in the bathtub…yes..
Won’t usually play games w you that have limited character options and if so he lets you pick yours first and always opts to letting you play the character you wanna play first before him so you feel comfortable..
Would not! help with your T shots would probably faint if he saw the needle by your body.. he’d be to scared to pierce you with anything and his hands would shake sm but would offer to hold your shirt from behind and hold his hand will you do it if you want he’ll probably bury his face in your hair or neck and doesn’t wanna look either tho..
Literally drowns anyone who misgenders you and gets rlly possessive.. he’d wrap his tail around your waist and hold your body and hiss at them. “He’s my normie boy so you can fuck off”… then proceeds to summon Lotan to drown the bitch who dare insult you.
Also would freak if you ever wore his clothes and would casually let you borrow his after you shower or just need a change of clothes his face would get so red… he’d see you wearing his clothes with it being oversized if you’re smaller with a bit of the shirt hanging off your shoulder and might shriek.. “y-you look hot I-I mean AH! You look nice in my clothes b-but ah don’t get them dirty that’s limited edition ok!” >////<
I’ll make a part two soon!!
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me x reader#obey me x male reader#leviathan#mammon#leviathan x male reader#mammon x reader#mammon x male reader#lucifer x male reader#male reader#transmasc reader#leviathan x trans!reader#mammon x trans! reader#Lucifer x trans! reader#leviathan x reader#lucifer x reader#obey me x trans reader#x trans reader#obey me headcanons#obey me fic#obey me leviathan#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#lucifer#trans ftm#ftm reader#ftm mlm
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Dawg Istg this took so long like—agh. But it’s done and the idea is out of my head now.
I’m actually really proud of it please like it
**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from DC or Batman**
Pairing: batfam x poc!son!reader
Genre: found family and a lil sprinkle of angst but it ends up alright
Summary: Alrighty what do people thing about a one shot with a teen poc male reader ( older than Damian but younger than Tim ) and the Batfam. It’s the reader’s first time it this large fancy private school and they keep getting bullied for their ethnicity. By the end of the day a group of bullies writes in sharpie “go back to where you came from” and the reader doesn’t do anything for a few weeks but then on of the batbros finds out and they get super mad. Confrontation then it’s got a happy ending and stuff.
Tw: racism, no slur use but degrading comments about race, bullying
Maybe I’ll stick around
You didn’t know what to expect when Bruce Wayne, the prince of Gotham, adopted you. You’d lived years on the street and ran away from all of your foster homes at least once.
You definitely weren’t expecting him to put you in the same high class snobby rich kid school as his two youngest sons. When you asked why you were going to a “rich bitch school” he told you that you were his son now and that meant you didn’t get any different treatment than his own kids.
What a bunch of bullshit. You’re obviously just a charity case. You saw the article in the paper the day after you were officially adopted.
“Bruce Wayne adopts immigrant teenage boy”
You weren’t an immigrant.
You hated the media. Whatever. Soon he’s gunna realize how “troubled” you are and send you back to another home. You’ll run away from there too. You’ll run until they catch and deport you because, apparently, you’re an immigrant.
Your first day of school started out relatively normal. You tried to sleep in but Dick was still staying over and dragged you out of bed. That left you no choice but to get dressed into your uniform. Alfred had cooked you breakfast but you didn’t want any then he drove you, Damian, and Tim to school.
Tim looked like hell. Literal hell. His hair looked like it had never seen a hairbrush and the bags under his eyes could make Louis Vuitton jealous.
Damian…well—he was Damian. Snobby, rude, and flippant. His hair was perfectly combed and his tie was tied with precision.
It’s hard to remember he’s younger than you.
You were wearing the uncomfortable uniform but your shirt was untucked and your tie was barely hanging on ( it wasn’t your fault you never learned how to tie a tie ).
“You look trashy.” Damian spoke in a clipped tone.
“You represent the Wayne Family you can’t just go around dressed like the addicts on the side of the road.” He continued, arms folded.
You rolled your eyes and wondered how much trouble you’d get in if you punched his perfect teeth in.
Alfred scolded him telling him how he should be kind to his new brother and that “you were the new one once too”.
Alfred was too patient for his own good.
When you finally got to school Tim and Damian immediately left you to go do whatever Wayne sons do at school. Which left you and your school schedule with your locker number and code printed on the corner.
As you walked down the hall you could feel eyes on you. People would whisper as you walked by. You acted unfazed—for the most part you were. When you finally found your locker and managed to get the damn thing open you were shocked to see that there was nothing in it.
Ok ok you know that’s how it’s supposed to be but all the other schools’ lockers either had some mysterious sticky substance or so much rust it could give you tetanus just by breathing near it. But this locker was clean. Clean and empty.
You shook from your shock quickly and threw most of your binders and books into it with no particular order.
You closed the metal door and locked it again. When you turned around you came face to face with a small posse of sporty looking guys.
“You the new Wayne son?” He sneered.
“Yeah. What’s it to you?”
“You know you’re just for publicity, right? As soon as you give him lip he’s gunna toss you to the dogs of Gotham.” He chuckled darkly.
You rolled your eyes, great you get to meet the bullies.
“Your breath stinks. Leave me alone.” You say as you shove your way past him.
He grabbed your schedule from your hand.
“Hey! I need that.” You were getting annoyed now.
He shoved you against the locker and left with his posse. And your schedule. Shit.
You hate rich people.
After trying to ask people who wouldn’t give you the time of day you finally found the proper math class and you were only 15 minutes late.
The teacher looked away from the board she was teaching on and looked on her clipboard that was sitting on her desk.
“Wayne?” She asked with raised eyebrows.
“Don’t call me that. And yes, that’s me.” You hated that name. It felt gross on your tongue.
“Well Mr. Wayne, have a seat, I’m sure someone will give you the notes you missed.” She sounded less than happy to be teaching high school students.
One look around the room and you knew no one was going to give you the notes.
The rest of the day was boring. You are alone at lunch and finished the rest of your classes with relative ease.
You needed to get one last book from your locker before Alfred picked you up. Apparently rich schools don’t have buses.
As you walked down the hall you heard attempts to muffle giggles and lots of whispers. Oh no. This wasn’t good.
You walked a little faster. When you got up to your locker you stopped.
Someone had written with sharpie in large black lettering over the door of your locker.
GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM
The hall burst with laughter and snorts. You slowly unlocked the padlock and opened the locker. Out poured hundreds of white scraps of folded paper. You picked one up off the ground and read it.
ANIMAL
You briefly looked over several others. More racist comments. Jesus Christ. You grabbed your textbook and slammed the locker shut. You contemplated leaving it unlocked, ultimately you did lock it because you didn’t want someone to steal your stuff.
When you got the stairs at the front of the school you saw Alfred waiting in the car. Damian and Tim were already in there. You sighed, collecting your thoughts. You got in the car and Alfred took you back to the manor. He attempted to ask how your day was. You were quiet. That was the end of him trying to communicate with you in the car.
The other few days were similar: more scraps of paper, more comments. The days faded into a week and then two weeks.
You were getting your books for the homework assigned. You shut your locker and came face to face with Damian…well, face to chin. He was kinda short. Tim was standing behind him.
“Why didn’t you tell us about this?” Tim asked. He was using his gravelly voice. The one he uses when he’s trying to be intimidating.
“About what?” You knew what.
Damian spoke this time.
“You know what.” He scowled.
You shrugged.
“Dunno. Didn’t think to.” That was a lie. You thought about it multiple times. Something stopped you every time you seriously considered telling someone.
Both looked unconvinced.
“We told Bruce.” Tim deadpanned.
Your eyes widened.
“What? No! Why?” You gulped and looked around.
“Because this is racially motivated.” Damian said matter of factly.
“Well give the man a cigar! He connected the goddamn dots!” You raised your voice at him.
He growled. Tim grabbed his shoulder.
“You seriously should’ve told us, dude.” Tim looked slightly hurt.
“Whatever.” You grumbled and walked out to the car.
You got in. Tim and Damian soon followed. Alfred drove to the manor.
You got out and hoped to make a mad dash to your room.
He was waiting.
“Not so fast. We need to talk. In my office.” Bruce said sternly.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆
“Why didn’t you say anything.” He started.
It wasn’t a question.
You shrugged.
“Never occurred to me.” You lied.
“The real answer.” He sounded like he usually does.
“That was the real answer.”
“No it wasn’t.”
“Yes it was.”
“We can go back and forth all day, but the bottom line is that you’re not leaving this office until you tell me why.” He was using a lawyer voice.
You weren’t sure if this was a threat or a promise. Maybe both.
“Did you think the bullying would get worse?”
“No.” You picked at your cuticles.
“Are you protecting someone?”
“No.” You tapped your foot.
“Were you scared of getting hurt?”
“No.” You ground your teeth.
“Then why. Why didn’t you say anything.”
You couldn’t take it anymore.
“THIS ISN’T SOMETHING NEW, BRUCE! THIS ISN’T SOME ONCE IN A LIFETIME THING THAT I HAVEN’T EXPERIENCED BEFORE! Th-…this isn’t—“
Your voice broke. Tears were streaming down your cheeks.
“This is something I’m used to…” You sniffed and wiped your nose.
He hugged you.
“I’m sorry.”
That’s all he said. Not some revolutionary speech about how you’re just as good as anyone else. Just an apology.
But you felt heard. You felt noticed.
⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆
Of course Bruce had a talk with your school. He wasn’t letting anymore of that slide. You noticed that Damian and Tim also started hanging around you at school more often. You weren’t sure if this was Bruce’s doing but it felt…nice…to have your brothers around you every once in a while.
The bullying stopped for the most part. Sometimes there would be a comment or two but they’d always come in the next day with either the fear of God struck in them or a black eye.
You didn’t need to know who did it, but you’d guess it was Damian.
School may have been hard but your two brothers there made it a little more bearable.
#dc fanfic#dc x teen reader#dc x male reader#dc universe#dc comics#batfam x male reader#batfam x son reader#Batfam x brother reader#batfam x poc male reader#batfam x poc reader#poc reader#poc male reader#Tim drake x brother reader#Damian Wayne x brother reader#fanfic#batfam x teen reader#batfamily#batfamily x reader#batfamily x brother reader#batfamily x poc reader#batfamily x male reader#batfamily x teen reader#batbro#batfam x batbro
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AHHHH! I loved your virgin shiggy post, I was wondering if you could make a part two with reader giving shigaraki a tit-fuck in an empty classroom, with degradation kink, and exhibition kink! I'm sorry if this too horny - Anon ♥♥
haha.. im back i guess. Its been a couple weeks but i have some time to start writing again :)) checking my inbox, i did NOT expect this many people wanting a pt2 to my virgin shiggy post. prolly my fault for holding it off for so long :/ so i made it longer than i planned but count this a thanks for 200+ followers!! <3 anyways i really need to catch up on my inbox but expect more from me !!
➨ paring — Virgin! (not anymore) Tomura Shigaraki x Fem! Bully! Reader
➨ warnings — Sub! Shigaraki, Dom! Reader, mommy kink, slight masturbation, humiliation, degradation, begging, exhibition, tit-fucking, hand-job, cum denial
PART 1
Shigaraki messed up. It’s been a week. A week since you cornered him in a room and took his virginity.
He still remembers what you told him when you left— “Take a shower tomorrow. Also wear a different top for god’s sake. If you do... I might let you touch me.”
Shigaraki beat himself over for agreeing to it as soon as he got home. You were his bully. One of the people making his school experience even more unbearable than it already was.
Yet he completely was undone as soon as you placed your hands on him, and you knew it. He just didn’t know what you wanted.
Dick? No, you were pretty and popular— you could probably get some from more desirable guys. To bully him? Sure, you said mean things to him during the encounter but the bullying was always around your friends.
For a whole school week, he stayed home. Making up some bullshit to the school that he had the flu. Frankly, he was scared to go. How was he supposed to face you?
Did you tell anyone? Secretly record it? Was he currently the laughing stock of the entire school for begging to continue to fuck you?
But even away from school, you had an effect on him. He’s still a horny guy. Now, jerking off wasn’t the same anymore, not when he had some taste of pussy thanks to you.
Shigaraki would always end up thinking back to you, even with porn he couldn’t get you out of his head. His hands clamping around his cock weren’t the same as your pussy, same with the bodies of other women.
He found himself indulging into mommy kink porn, something he didn’t really get off from before you. Shigaraki pretend it was you talking to him, bouncing onto his lap and letting him touch you.
But after a bit— Shigaraki found it going no where, they weren’t you.
Cursing, he would always finish early. And not in a good way. In a way where he was left unsatisfied. Putting his painfully hard cock back into his sweats and trying to sleep his horny-ness away.
Shigaraki realized he needed you, you talking to him, you around his cock. Now, he regretted not sticking to his word. But he’ll make it up for you.
You were quite mad. Shigaraki hasn’t been to school since that day. How ungrateful, you literally let him put his dick in you and now he ghosts you in real life.
You fully expected him to be at school the next day with the way he begged you to stay, clean and ready for you. So imagine your annoyance in seeing him not show up for several days.
But today was different, the newly ex-virgin actually showed up. To your surprise, he still did more than you expected him to do despite being a week late.
Shigaraki had changed his hoodie to a whole new one, it looked recently bought. As well as his hair, looking more soft than greasy like it typically was. Though he didn’t style it, it still overhanging on his face.
Still, he definitely looked a lot better, not enough for others to notice but enough for you to smirk at your work.
Both of you didn’t interact with each other besides a few glances until lunch. You guys sat on completely different ends of the cafeteria, him sitting in a small corner table while you sat in a large one.
Shigaraki looked fidgety, meekly looking up every few minutes to watch you interact with your friends. He was waiting for school to end, planning to catch you at the same empty classroom you took his virginity in.
Though you had completely other plans.
“Hey, I’ll be right back.” You got up from your table, grabbing your bag from off the floor. “To?” One of your friends asked, not looking up from their phone.
“Some nerd, he’s gonna do my homework we got last period. Apparently, his parents found out he’s been doing our homework and now he's gotta do them during lunch. Gotta make sure they do it right.” You lied through your teeth, hoping they would just back off.
They didn’t look up, instead pulling their homework worksheet out of their binder with one hand, putting it in yours, “Get him to do mine.”
You rolled your eyes, grabbing the paper, “Yeah.” You walked away, crumbling the paper to throw it in the trash. You’ll just say you lost it. Not like they’ll do anything about it.
Narrowed eyes landed on Shigaraki, his eyes currently focused on his phone. You strudded your way to him, smirking to yourself.
Shigaraki almost jumped when he felt something brush against his leg. Looking up, he was met with you sitting down next to him.
“Hey.” You said, placing your bag on the table and putting your last period’s homework on the table.
“You’re good at chemistry, right?” You questioned, shifting through your bag for something to write with.
“...Well— I... um...—“ Shigaraki stuttered, unsure of what was currently going on.
“Great.” You pulled the phone out of his clammy hands, replacing it with a pencil. “...What?” He tilted his head, was this a joke? Did you completely forget about a week ago?
“Hm...? Well, get onto it.” You uttered him on, putting your chin in your hands, eyeing him. Reluctantly, he looked back to paper, beginning to work on it.
After around 5 minutes, you brushed against him even more, getting close to his side. “What does that say?” You pushed yourself further into his side, your chest touching his arms.
Shigaraki cursed himself for already becoming red, he pants tightening around his crotch as last week flashed into his head again.
“Um... m-mole is a unit of measur— Hmph!“ He held back a loud whine when your right hand traveled to his crotch.
“What— what are you doing?” He asked under his breath, holding back small whimpers as you palmed him, “Where have you been?” You questioned sternly, upset he kept you waiting.
“I’m sorry... I got sick.” He bluffed, it was too embarrassing to admit he was scared. With how he left you hanging, he expected people to be laughing at him the moment he stepped onto school grounds.
“Sick? A whole week?” You hummed, you could already tell he was lying. Still, you were proud that he even bothered to make it up to you by fixing himself up.
“With your diet of energy drinks and chips, I’m surprised you’re not dead.” You decided to let it go, he was just nervous to show up.
Yet you think he deserves a bit of punishment.
Shigaraki felt heavy as you teased the zipper of his jeans. He immediately tensed, “Wait— now..?” He saw you narrow your eyes, “Something wrong?”
“There’s people here!” He whispered yelled, flinching as he felt you unzip his jeans ever so slowly, trailing your finger along his exposed boxers.
“So? You’re just some loser in the corner, nobody will notice if you aren’t obvious.”
Shigaraki could already feel pre-cum form at his tip, staining his boxers a bit. You giggled a bit, feeling the dampness of his boxers. “Already?” Shigaraki shook his head, “I... I haven’t came since... that day.”
You laughed a bit louder than you expected to, good thing the cafeteria was already loud. “How sweet of you. Couldn’t get it on?”
Shigaraki focused his eyes on your paper, muffled moans caught at the back of his throat as you freed his cock from his boxers.
Now slowly pumping him, Shigaraki dropped the pen of the table. He wanted to do something with his hands, to touch you.
He moved his hand to your thigh, but of course, you didn’t allow him, “You’re too eager. Get back to work.” You ordered. Shigaraki was about to question you but you stopped him with stroking his cock faster.
Both of you continued this way for a bit, him answering questions with his shaky hands while you jerked him off.
Shigaraki could’ve sworn he felt eyes on him a couple of times, yet every time he looked up, nobody was even batting an eye in his direction.
He could feel his cock twitch at the excitement of being caught. How would they explain one of the most popular girls giving an outcast a hand-job under the table?
As he got to the last question— he was already drooling on the paper, mouth clenched shut to avoid moaning and panting to be let out.
You could tell he was about to cum, the writing on the paper progressively getting sloppier as time went on. “M-mommy...” Shigaraki whispered just enough for you to hear, “Hmm, you want to cum?”
He nodded furiously, he was extremely pent up and needed release. And just as he thought, you were the only one who can give it to him.
Shigaraki whimpered when you pulled away, looking up at the clock and collecting your stuff. “Then after school, room 204. Actually listen and show up when I tell you this time.”
You walked away just in time for the bell to go off, signifying that lunch was over. Leaving Shigaraki, once again, a mess.
Here he was again, feeling nostalgic as you walked into the empty classroom. Shigaraki easily grew again while anticipating this, the tent prominent in his jeans.
“Y’know, good job for showering and changing.” You gave him praise, Shigaraki turning red from your words. “This... this means I can touch you, right?”
You nodded, “Yeah. I actually keep promises.” He ignored the jab at him, it didn’t matter how mean you were— he was going to touch you finally.
Shigaraki awkwardly shuffled towards you, raising his hands up to look at you with wide eyes. He slowly paced a hand on your boobs, trying to see if this was just some test and you’ll get mad at him.
When he didn’t get anything back, he immediately started to dough on your clothed breast, cupping them. Then, he moved to unbutton your shirt, already seeing you thought ahead and took off your bra before coming here.
He fully took off your shirt, not wasting time on latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, both hands playing with your breasts. Shigaraki was basically humping your leg, sucking your nipples like a baby.
You giggled a bit, patting his head. He looked up at you with a clouded look, pure joy in his eyes as he finally got to touch you.
Looking back down at him, another idea popped up— you already took his virginity and gave him his first hand-job, whats another one of his firsts? “Shigaraki, do you want to feel really good?” He unlatched from your nipple, “I can be inside you?”
“No.” He frowned a bit, but perked up when you trailed your fingers on his boxers. “What if I put this,” You pointed at your boobs, “In between these?”
Shigaraki was already down, eagerly sitting on a desk while you got on your knees. He freed his cock, putting it in between your slick pushed together breasts, thanks to his sucking earlier.
You wasted no time on stroking it up and down with your breasts. He moaned feeling the softness of the valley between your chest, your breasts around his cock giving him warmth as you stimulated him.
Shigaraki was definitely feeling great, you even let him bend down and grab your breasts to control the speed of the tit-job.
Though, Shigaraki wanted more. You were giving him all these things, a hand-job, a tit-fuck. He’s been inside you once and he didn’t get to do what he wanted in the first place. To cum inside his mommy.
He feels a knot grow in his lower abdomen, but he doesn’t wanna cum yet. Instead, he pulled himself away from you, much to your confusion.
“What? You literally were about to cum and I was gonna let you!” You groaned, getting up as Shigaraki faced you.
“...Mommy, can I fuck you?”
“No, you didn’t come to school for a whole week. If you really wanted to you would have showed up.”
Shigaraki turned red, sputtering as he held onto your arm, “Please! I just want you cum inside you.” He whined, tears pricking at the chance of not getting to have sex with you after all this time.
You looked at him stoned faced as he begged, even falling to his knees dramatically to add to his desperation. “Fucking virgins, man.”
Shigaraki felt himself be pushed down, your skirt and panties on the floor. You straddled onto his length, moans filling the room quickly.
“Yes! Thank you, thank you, mommy!” Shigaraki thrusted his hips into yours, feeling even more over-joyed when he was allowed to touch your chest while you were on top of him this time.
Shigaraki desperately missed this, now he remembers why his hand didn’t compare to your tight pussy after trying to jerk off. He found his own rhythm quickly, muffled ‘mommy’s due to his mouth on your breasts.
“I’m doing this because you cleaned up, if you didn’t I would’ve left you to your own sad-ass devices already.” You lied, honestly, you hated the idea what he possibly was ignoring you by not showing up to school.
Even then, you’ve grown a bit found of him. His body, his expressions, his voice, everything really. It didn’t bother you as much when you saw his still messy hair, you were just glad to see him.
Though, you’d never admit it. Instead, it showed through the way you were tightening around his cock, panting as he moaned into and out your body. Shigaraki very quickly wrapped his arms around you, both of you on the edge.
“Fuck— Shigaraki. Cum, cum for mommy, okay?” You ordered, Shigaraki more than ready to fulfill it.
“Ah, thank you! Thank you, mommy! I’m gonna cum inside you!” Both of you rided out your highs, Shigaraki filling you so much it started to drip outside your full cunt.
He fell on top of you despite you initially being on top, you wanted to scold him but honestly couldn’t bring yourself to right now.
The room quieted down, the only words being exchanged were by Shigaraki softly muttering “Thank you, mommy.” into your neck
#sub shigaraki#tomura shiragaki#dark fic#dom reader#dark#bully reader#fem reader#tw degradation#tw humiliation#tw mommy kink#bnha smut#bnha x reader#x reader#shigaraki x reader#mommy
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A Parting Gift
Continuation of Blackmail from Textbook Love
pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader
genre: drabble, smut, college au
synopsis: "He told me he would leak your video if you don’t give him a handjob."
warnings: deception/manipulation, dubcon, handjob, spit, slight angst
word count: 2.4k
tag: @mwitsmejk
a/n: jungkook is a bit cruel in this 😖 a flop.
Every time you think about Jimin seeing you in your most vulnerable state, you want to cry, gag, vomit, but all you can do is look down and walk away from his direction in a hurry. Jungkook told you to avoid him, and it’s the easiest option for you right now, but you wish you could tell him it was an accident. If he doesn’t see you, he’ll forget it quicker and save you the embarrassment.
It’s been three days since the incident, and it’s Monday as you clutch your binder to your chest while walking to your afternoon lecture. The coast is clear when you scurry down the halls, the lightning dim due to the gloomy weather outside. It’s going to rain soon, but you got off easy by arriving early. The campus is not crowded yet, just as you expected before coming. Chances of seeing Jimin are supposed to be lowered in this instance, but the boy really can’t take a hint.
You hear him holler your name from a distance in the corridor, and you quicken your steps anxiously. You’re internally begging for him to leave you alone, to forget you exist, just to not approach you. The chants don’t matter when he gently holds your shoulder a few seconds later. You screw your eyes shut the moment you’re turned around, hoping he would just go away and spare the shame.
“Hey,” he exhales, out of breath from his short sprint to you. “Why were you ignoring me just now?”
“I didn’t hear you,” you lie and open your eyes. Jimin frowns.
“That’s not true,” he mumbles, “I was pretty loud and you don’t even have earphones in.”
You don’t say anything and grimace at the floor instead, avoiding his gaze for as long as you can. You’re not a good liar, and Jimin realizes that all too quickly. He continues quietly, “Is this about the… video?”
“It was an accident!” you blurt out with flushed cheeks, “J-Jungkook was going to send it to himself, but…”
She’s so dense, Jimin thinks in astonishment. “He told you that?” He knows it was on purpose; Jungkook was sending him a message beyond the media: that he stands no chance; that you belong to him. He was telling him to back off, but Jimin is more strong-willed than that.
“Yes… please forget about that video.” You avert your gaze to him pleadingly.
“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he tries to comfort, “but are you sure it wasn’t intentional?”
Both of you miss Jungkook exiting the lecture hall when you respond. His brows furrow the moment he notices the interaction, but his vision is blocked by other students leaving. He shoves a few as he watches you from afar, your back facing him and Jimin’s expression angering him with its doubtful look. Why the fuck is he still talking to her? He fumes in his spot until you turn back on your path to attend your lecture. You glance at him mid-way and all of your worries vanish the moment you lock eyes. You are taken aback by his glare as he waves you off and stalks up to Jimin who is just idly standing by without moving.
He only breaks out of his trance when Jungkook grabs him by his collar. “I’m guessing you didn’t hear what she said,” he refers to the video with a subtle snarl.
“Heard it loud and clear,” Jimin retaliates obnoxiously. The halls are emptying itself out, and he grows a bit more nervous when he realizes that he’s alone.
“Are you fucking dense? Why are you still following her around like a fucking creep?” He’s greeted with silence, and another possibility dawns on him. A cheshire grin crosses his features as he scoffs, “Oh, you liked it, didn’t you?”
Jimin blinks, dumbfounded, but doesn’t respond. He’s harshly shoved and the back of his head bangs against the wall, echoing in the otherwise silent area. An oomf escapes his mouth at the force, but Jungkook isn’t apologetic.
“You jacked off to it, Jimin?” he closes in on the suffering man who only stares at him. “Answer me.”
“N-No, I wouldn’t-” He’s cut off by the stinging pain on his scalp.
Jungkook yanks his hair back without mercy, and sings, “Stuttering, avoiding eye contact, taking too long to respond… all signs of lying, no?”
“You’re hurting me,” Jimin holds onto his wrist with both hands as he groans. Jungkook only tugs on it harder.
“I’ll let go if you answer me honestly.”
Jimin knows that Jungkook is waiting for one specific answer; it is obvious by the sick glint in his eyes. Alas, he tries again, “I-I didn’t do that!”
A deep sigh leaves his mouth with an eye roll, and he brings his free hand to wrap his fingers around Jimin’s neck. He doesn’t put any pressure on him yet, and Jimin is helpless because of the weight pressing against his legs to prevent him from kicking. “Pity,” he mutters, “I never took you for a pervert and a liar.”
The air leaves Jimin’s lungs all too soon when Jungkook tightens his grip on his throat, crushing his windpipes without so much as an expression on his face. Jimin claws at his arm as he wheezes, and Jungkook doesn’t react in the slightest; he looks psychopathic. “Yes,” he finally croaks, “I did.”
He coughs the moment Jungkook removes his hands from him. He bends on his knees as he catches his breath, and the deadly man waits patiently. “You did what?”
“I-I… I jacked off to it,” he swallows audibly.
“Jacked off to what? Your sex life doesn’t interest me.”
“I jacked off to the video of you fingering… her.” Jimin is once again reminded of how cruel Jungkook is, and all he wants is for you to realize that before it’s too late. But he isn’t any better when he is admitting the truth of his wrongful actions.
��Christ…” he trails and shakes his head. He’s feigning disgust, but it works in making Jimin feel worse. “I bet you’d pay to watch it live.”
“Jungkook, please,” he begs hoarsely, his throat dry and scratchy from the suffocation, “stop this. You don’t even love her.”
“Jimin,” he says monotonously, “count yourself lucky that I don’t have any scissors on me, because I’d cut your tongue off right about now. Your voice gives me a headache,” he sighs, “meet me in the lounge at 4.”
You’re worried and twitching on the edge of your seat during your lecture. Conversing with Jimin was awkward, and him telling you Jungkook had lied to you was infuriating, but it shifted to anxiety when Jungkook appeared upset with you. Why do you always do things wrong?
Dwelling on your feelings is not an option when you have to focus on your professor, and you’re overwhelmed with so many things at once. Your exams; Jungkook’s assignments; Jimin’s persistence are all taking a toll on you. You don’t hesitate to escape reality when your phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s a message from Jungkook and your heart fills with relief as you open it under the desk. It reads:
come straight to the lounge after your lecture.
He’s been interacting with you outside of academical topics, and it feels like you’ve hit a milestone. It’s progress at its finest! He’s waiting for you. Time passes too slow for you, and you eagerly take notes to distract yourself; it works, and you’re out of the hall in a rush.
Students are packing up their belongings just as you stride into the lounge. Jungkook is sitting at the far back, and you almost miss his figure. He’s scrolling through his phone when you reach him and your shallow breaths make him look up.
“Hi,” you breathe and place your sling bag on the coffee table. The room is spacious and the couches are wide and comfortable. You sit down next to him, your leg touching his spread one.
“Hey baby,” he greets with a smile. You internally scream at the rare pet name, unaware that he’s intentionally riling you up. “How was your lecture?”
“It was good! I missed you so much,” you lean into him, “I didn’t upset you earlier, did I?”
“Of course not, princess. I missed you too,” he palms your cheek before pecking the tip of your nose. “Oh, and Jimin will be joining us today.”
You don’t get to relish in Jungkook’s affection long before your eyes widen. “What? Why?”
“I spoke to him earlier today, and well…” he sighs guiltily, “He told me he would leak your video if you don’t give him a handjob. And I agreed on my terms.”
Your lips part as hatred consumes you. Jungkook knows you would do it, and he knows you’ll hold a grudge. And Jimin… well, he’ll definitely have this experience to keep him satisfied for a while.
Said man stands before the both of you timidly. You’re still in shock when you avert your gaze to him. Jungkook is unexpectedly friendly as he stands up and says, “Jimin! Take a seat.” Jimin sits in his former seat wordlessly as Jungkook plops on the loveseat across. “I don’t think we should drag this out longer than it needs to be.” He juts his chin at you, “Start.”
Jimin is perplexed when you hide your face from him as you unbuckle his belt. “Wh-What are you doing?” he asks, but doesn’t stop you.
Before you can respond, Jungkook says, “She knows.” You and Jimin have two different interpretations of his words, and he is baffled by your reaction to it. You’re going to pleasure him because of what he did? Or is this all an attempt at cutting his dick off?
Your upper body covers your actions from any outsiders, but Jimin is worried he won’t be able to stay quiet when your hand massages his crotch over his briefs. It’s a wet dream come true, really, as he involuntarily inches closer to you. Jungkook leans his cheek on his palm as he watches you in boredom. “Take it out,” he instructs you. You don’t glance at Jimin as you push down his underwear and wrap your hand around his erection. He’s not fully erect because he’s still confused, but the more you stroke him, the harder it grows. “You like it?”
Jimin is conflicted between responding and ignoring, but his noises are the only answer Jungkook needs. He is suppressing moans with gasps, shuddering in his seat because your hand feels so soft and you look so pretty and shy. When you pick up your head to gaze at him questioningly, he replies, “Y-Yes.”
He is entranced by your doe eyes but Jungkook breaks the building tension by mocking, “You look like you want to kiss her. Calm yourself.”
There’s a brief pause before you ask, “Would it make you… cum faster?”
Jungkook leans his elbows on his knees in interest, a smirk plastered on his face at the power dynamic: both of you are playing along to his strings, two puppets under his control. It makes him curious to see how far you’re willing to go before he’s completely rid of Jimin. The only reason he’s allowing this to happen is because of how pathetic Jimin looks now, and how he’ll be utterly crushed when you never speak to him again. It’s a bittersweet parting memory.
“Um…” he hesitates, but thinks if you decided to give him a handjob, a kiss wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. “Yes?”
You inch your face closer to his, and the both of you look like middle schoolers with how slow your lips eventually meet. It’s a sloppy and amateur kiss with Jimin whining into your mouth, his tongue swiping across your lips recklessly. He’s lost in the pleasure, and it’s clear to you that he’s never done anything like this before. Your thumb grazes the tip of his stiff length, and he begins to twitch under you. You use your other hand to pump his girth, your lips awkwardly pressing against his plump ones.
“Spit in his mouth.”
You abruptly pull away to gawk at Jungkook, but he only raises a brow intimidatingly, as if daring you to defy him. “Open,” you demand Jimin. His eyes are hazy, and he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s drunk on your touch as he parts his glistening lips and slightly sticks out his tongue. You spit on it and he flicks his tongue out to collect all of it, swallowing with a deep rumble resounding from his chest. He’s enjoying this far too much.
You don’t notice him cum with a thrust in the air when you kiss him, but as it begins to coat your fingers, you look down to see his oozing leak. It’s not spurting, and you’re grateful for it when you scoot away from him. He’s panting with his head thrown back on the couch headrest.
Jungkook breaks his silence by cooing to you, “Are you okay, baby?” You nod with a pout, head turned away from Jimin. You’re waiting for Jungkook’s cue to leave so you can speak your mind. “You can go now.”
Without skipping a beat, you seethe, “Fuck you, Jimin. Don’t talk to me ever again or else I will report you to the dean. I hate you, and I hope to never see you again.” You make your grand departure right after, and the man sputters incoherently in confusion.
“What did I do…?”
“Now, Jimin, you heard the girl,” he grins and clasps his hands, “she may take pity on you, but I won’t. One word from you to her, and you’re fucked.”
“If you’re so jealous, why would you let her do that to me?”
He merely shrugs. “Who is she waiting for after giving you a handjob?” he stands up and towers over the seated man who is fumbling with his belt. “I was being nice to you before she completely cut contact with you. You’re welcome by the way.”
As he exits the lounge, he scoffs to himself, “Jealous. What a joke.”
He has no reason to be jealous, because when he's outside, you're shuffling on your feet with your hands held behind your back with a bright smile as you turn to look at him.
"There's my girl," he affirms with a lopsided grin.
It shouldn't feel so reassuring when you reply, "Always yours." And as long as you are, you should be content with only having him in your life.
Because he's never going to catch you talking to another boy again, even if it's his former best friend.
#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts smut#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#jimin x reader#jimin smut#jungkook imagines#jimin imagines#bts#park jimin#jeon jungkook#jungkook smut#jjk smut#pjm smut
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22. for reds 🤡
This is 100% not what you asked for (yet...👀), but I give you part 1 of what we're calling the Weird King AU. I'm turning this into a proper multi-chapter High School fic because I love you and I'd jump on any bandwagon for you.
xxx
Like most young, conventionally attractive Supervillains, Brick had made a bit of a habit of failing upwards. It was pretty easy in a town full of simpering morons content to project their own narrative assumptions onto him, and who was he to crush their dreams when they made his life a little easier?
For example, dating.
“You can tell me, you know.” His cute date, Tracy, sipped her milkshake across from him.
“Tell you what?”
She softened and reached her hand across the table. “Your tragic backstory. I’ll listen without judgment, I promise.”
Brick tried to think of something tragic, but it all seemed pretty underwhelming as far as Supervillain origin stories went. “You mean like how I was born in a toilet?”
She made an oh shape with her lips. “We all have those days where we feel like we were born in a toilet, Brick.”
He’d dated Tracy for three months before she broke up with him out of the blue in tears: sorry she couldn’t fix his baggage, she just wasn’t strong enough to handle all that tortured darkness, but she wished him nothing but health and happiness. Brick deleted her number from his phone and spent twenty whole minutes staring at the toilet in his bathroom, wondering what the lesson here was.
But everything changed when Mojo got out of prison and moved Brick and his brothers back to Townsville, where he enrolled them in the local high school alongside their former arch nemeses, the Powerpuff Girls.
Suddenly, everything Brick did pre-supposed ill intent. These people remembered him as the pest who had graffitied their local monuments and blown up their cars and endangered their children. They held no love for him, and at best they feared him. This was not Citiesville, where he’d been a tall, cold glass of Voss water in a sea of recycled Dasani.
He found himself thinking about his birthing toilet again as he stepped into the cafeteria alone and the conversation quieted down as his new classmates watched him from the safety of their tables. His next moves here were critical. He was no longer at the top of the food chain, but fear and mystery surrounding his origins and character gave him a certain power over his peers.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of social suicide, I will fear no cringe,” he said to himself.
The jocks were out. Capable though he may be, Brick was not much of a team player unless there was a blood contract involved requiring his participation on pain of satanic torture. The drama kids were also a hard pass, not because he thought drama was lame, but because they had barely noticed him walk in, and Brick did not have the energy to deal with people more self-involved than himself. Some of the unaffiliated tables could be safe, but without a good understanding of the nuanced social dynamics in the high school, he could be heading toward irreversible doom, and that was a risk he was not willing to take.
He saw his salvation just ahead. It was the only option, all else being equal. In an environment where he couldn’t be certain of his baseline status and potential for upward mobility, there was greatness to be had only by association and certainty only in the devil he knew.
Brick helped himself to the empty seat directly across from Blossom Utonium to a chorus of gasps and staring.
Blossom did not startle like her table mates had. She watched him critically behind a head full of bangs as she balanced her soup spoon in her hand. “Really.”
Brick unwrapped the burrito he’d purchased in the lunch line and brandished it before him. “Really.”
He took a bite of the burrito. It was not hot enough. The two girls to Blossom’s left whispered to each other about that bad boy and he’s hot, though.
Blossom daintily spooned soup into her mouth without spilling a single drop as she continued to watch Brick for signs of his imminent dark side transformation.
The guy next to Brick was brave enough to ask him what his next class was. Brick had a mouth full of disappointing burrito, so he passed the guy the printout of his class schedule in lieu of answering.
“Wow, all APs, huh? Hey, we’re in U.S. History together next period, nice. I’m Mike Believe, by the way. Brick Jojo, right?”
Brick didn’t answer him immediately on account of the burrito currently occupying his mouth hole, and Mike took it the wrong way.
“Oh, yeah, we all know who you are. Blossom sort of filled us in.” He winced like he’d inadvertently revealed a terrible secret.
Brick swallowed his food and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Saves me some time.”
Mike looked super relieved. “For sure! Hey, I could lend you my notes if you want to catch up. Gershwin’s giving a quiz on the Progressive Era on Friday, and she’s a hard-ass who definitely won’t care that you just transferred…”
Brick chewed on his lunch as Mike continued to talk at him about classes and other vaguely helpful, albeit uninteresting, information. But Mike seemed normal enough, a little chatty but not in an overeager sort of way. Blossom was no longer clocking his every move and seemed to be absorbed in her friend’s latest swim team cheating scandal, until Brick reached for his water bottle and she suddenly laser-focused on his wandering hand.
Her keen attention to him was honestly flattering, if expected. It was in his nature to be noticed, and in this narrow respect she was no different from anyone else whose head he turned. If she chose to feed her interest with the flames of suspicion, then it was no difference to him.
But if she was anything like him—and on a chemical level she was probably the closest to him that a person could get—he suspected it took tremendous effort to hold her full and sustained attention. The world they inhabited was as vapid and mundane as the humans that surrounded them, and even the most gracious of gods grew bored of worship. Which explained all the smiting and fucking and generational curses upon entire households in everything from Greek mythology to the Old Testament.
Brick was pretty deep into a fantasy of Blossom going full Ixion and the Wheel on the swim team when Mike tapped his shoulder. “You ready to go?”
It took him a moment to realize the bell had rung and he had a class to get to—AP U.S. History with Mike, apparently. Brick gathered his tray and his bag and followed Mike. When he looked back at the table, Blossom was already gone.
xxx
That whole first week was painfully boring. No one bullied him, or pranked him, or picked a fight with him, of course. But no one really approached him, either. His brothers were more determined to make an effort. Boomer announced he was trying out for the soccer team because there was no rule saying a Super with extremely well documented ties to active criminals and the forces of Hell couldn’t kick a ball around a field. Butch had gotten himself invited to a midnight screening of Snakes on a Plane in some rich kid’s home movie theater, but only after that same kid had accidentally spilled milk on Butch and burst into tears in front of a cafeteria full of Juniors and Seniors. Brick declined the invitation Butch extended to him. He had that AP U.S. History exam to study for on Friday, anyway.
He shared all of his classes with Blossom. Even in the classes where her assigned seat was behind his and he couldn’t see her, he could feel her lobotomizing stare at the back of his head whenever she glanced up from her notebook. And while Mike’s notes were perfectly adequate and the friendly gesture counted for more than the content (a gesture Brick would not soon forget), there was a far more efficient way to accomplish his goal of murdering the class averages while also taking the edge off his loner doldrums.
“Can I borrow your class notes?”
Blossom rose from her seat and pulled her hair tie out to re-do her extremely long ponytail. She held the elastic between her teeth as she worked. Her teeth were very straight, he noticed. Some pretty nice girl-teeth, generally speaking.
“Which class?”
“All of them.”
He watched her wind the elastic around her hair with quick, adroit fingers. “That’s a lot of notes.”
“You’re the top of every class. No point in asking anyone else.”
She moved toward the hall. He followed her out. “Why would I help you?”
A legitimate question delivered without venom. Unlike her sister Buttercup, who’d “run into” Brick after school on Monday and told him to watch his back, Blossom didn’t have to do anything but maintain a general proximity to make her superiority complex known. Which was the kind of flex he could fuck with.
“Isn’t helping people sort of your mandate?”
They had arrived at her locker, which she opened with enough force to rattle the hinges. “I help the helpless. Are you helpless, Brick?”
Brick smiled at her baiting. Had she ever actually said his name at a normal volume before? It sounded good even in her baseline bitch timbre. “Critically helpless. I’m the new student who transferred in the middle of the semester, and you’re the only person who knows me.”
A couple other students clearly trying to get to the lockers Brick was blocking hovered just out of reach. They whispered to each other, but neither of them actually worked up the courage to ask Brick to move. He ignored them.
Blossom rummaged in her locker for the binder she would need for the next class. “Make friends.”
“Working on it.”
The locker door slammed and she faced him. There was something confrontational in the way she held herself before him that kicked him in the nuts back in time thirteen years to their more uncouth days when all he wanted to do was destroy her so he’d be the only one. Now they were older and wiser and he actually did need her notes to study, so destroying her was not high on his list of priorities.
“You want to be my friend.”
“We have so much in common.”
“So do lions and hyenas.”
“Both are apex predators, so.”
She took a step closer and peered up at him. Brick did not move, although he wondered what was so interesting about his face. She probably just thought he was hot. She was probably as bored as he was. She probably—
“You have lettuce in your teeth.”
Brick pulled back and covered his mouth on instinct. God fucking damnit.
Blossom was already walking away from him by the time he’d picked the food from his teeth. “I’ll expect my notes back in mint condition before first period tomorrow morning.”
Brick pressed a fist against the lockers and quietly fumed. “Dumbass…”
“Um, sorry, but do you mind…?”
The student who’d been waiting for her locker space to clear up had her palms up as if to assuage a feral stray. Brick pushed off the lockers, but his fist left a dent where he’d unleashed some of his impotent self-pity. He looked back at the girl, and she shook her head.
“It’s fine! It, uh, it happens sometimes.” She pointed a couple lockers down to Blossom’s, which was dinged up worse than the others.
Brick stared at Blossom’s locker, and then back at the girl. Her narrow, dark eyes were wide, but not out of fear. She was waiting for something, and like an idiot it took him a moment to catch up. “You’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up your locker.”
She laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s really fine! You just looked so miserable for a second there, and I just thought…”
Great, he was moping so hard he had an audience.
The five minute warning bell rang, and a flood of students rushed past them on their way to fourth period. Brick stepped aside so the girl could get to her locker.
“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”
The new guy, yeah. How quaint. Except, she was waiting for a response, which wasn’t the absolute worst thing that had happened to him all week.
“Brick,” he said. But of course, she already knew that, and she was just being nice.
“I’m Kim. Kim Chan.”
“Okay.” He didn’t have anything else to say to her, so he decided to get his shit and get to his next class.
“Welcome back to Townsville, Brick.”
Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. It didn’t occur to him until later that Kim was the first and only person who had properly welcomed him back home.
#powerpuff girls#powerpuff girls fanfic#blossick#ppg reds#ppg blossom#ppg brick#september fic prompts#weird king au#i have no idea what i will call this yet#but it'll make its way to AO3 and it'll be a Thing#i have to think of themes and shit now#i came here to shit post and here we are with another full on Reds fic
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Hi, I was wondering if I could ask for some advice. I don't understand my feelings. sorry if this is tmi. When I was about 4 I remember feeling awful when I was called a girl. When I was very young, I started to develop breasts very early (as the first person of my class/year) and I was bullied for that. I still hate my breasts when I'm wearing clothes, but I don't know if that's from the bullying. I don't hate them just looking at them separately when wearing a normal bra though. I don't really feel like my head fits on my body then? If that makes sense. Like my body isn't part of me when I'm naked (most of the time)? Sometimes I do feel like a whole person and I'm happy with how I look. When I dress very feminine, I almost always don't feel like myself. I feel like I'm dressed up as someone else. I really enjoy looking more masculine and having a flatter chest from wearing a sports bra that is too small (but I can't wear that for more than like 15 minutes and I don't have a binder, so I don't have a flatter chest ever). From when I was young, I fantasised about having a masculine name that could be read as non binary (stereotypical names for men, but woman can be called that as well). I don't feel like a woman, but I don't know if I feel like a man. I think I can see my future as a woman and I don't mind my genitals (although sometimes I've fantasised about having a penis). But how do you feel like a woman? I don't mind seeing myself as a mother and I don't have the strong hate about the word woman as I did when I was a kid. Now it's just an uncomfortable feeling. I don't have that with man, but I haven't been called that by others. I also read that being attracted to woman can influence how someone sees their gender. So idk if I'm just a more masculine bi girl? Although that doesn't feel right. Could I be feeling non binary? But that doesn't feel right either. I just currently don't know. It doesn't help that I fit in the stereotypical box of woman when you look at my hobbies. I'd be the perfect housewife and I wouldn't mind that role. When I have talked about this with my friends, they have either said that gender isn't real and just a social construct, everyone is just a person or they haven't gone into a deep conversation with me. How could I figure my gender out more? Thank you for reading this and running this blog 💛
Well first off, thank you for opening up to me about this- It takes a lot to be vulnerable and I appreciate it. Honestly, my advice here is that you don't have to think about being trans or not being trans as another box to put yourself in. I think the best thing I learned throughout my transition was to stop thinking of things in terms of "do I want to be a man? do I want to be a woman?" because our ideas of what man and woman are are sometimes heavily influenced by our surroundings. "How do I feel like a woman?" is a very good question, and the truth is, a lot of different people are going to have a lot of different answers. The best part is, you don't have to erase a part of yourself- your history, your experiences, etc- to still be one gender or another. I had a lot of similar experiences growing up, and for me, the best way to think of these things goes more like:
Would I feel more like myself if I got top surgery? Would I feel more like myself if I took testosterone? Are these choices I make for myself going to make me feel comfortable with myself?
And you don't even have to think about it that far yet. You can take smaller steps. Cut your hair, experiment with clothes. Hair and clothes are not permanent, you know? Get a feel for what's going to make you feel the most confident in yourself and don't pressure yourself to fit into one box or another box that people label as acceptable- not even in terms of gender, but also in terms of being "really" a man or "really" a woman. I understand why a lot of people like to assure their friends with "gender isn't real" or "gender is socially constructed" but I also understand how this isn't helpful when you're looking for a groundwork to use in finding where you stand. I know as I've continued in my transition, I've gone from pretty solidly identifying as a trans man to shifting more into a non-binary identity as I became more comfortable with my body after top surgery and testosterone- and I've been transitioning for like, 8 years. I feel like expecting yourself to understand it right away is unrealistic. Try to worry less about if you're taking up space in a community and more about how that community's resources will benefit you, talk to other trans people, and see where you feel like you fit.
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Meeting for the First Time
Bio!Dad Bruce
So here is my first contribution to the Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020,
Day 1: Meeting for the First Time
@biodad-bruce-month
Next
~~~~~~~~~~
Okay granted noting seemed to ever go Marinette’s way. But this was the ultimate punch in the gut the universe could send her.
It started off as a normal Friday, 8 months since the liar came back to school. 8 months since she threatened to pull everyone, she cared about from her and leave her alone. Well 6 month ago Lila’s threat came true. Today she simply walked into class and ignore the cruel stares and watched as feet would pop out to trip her. Well she made it to her desk in one piece and that was a plus.
She was pulling out her tablet and then she heard and felt something slam onto her desk. It was a binder nearly exploding with paper’s and behind it was none other than Alya. “Hey Girl” she started trying to keep her voice friendly, but the repulsion was evident in her voice. “We were wondering if you could do us a favor” she gave Marinette a strained smile and when she didn’t answer continued “Can you help me plan Lila’s sweet 16 as a way to make up for bullying her.”
Marinette was beginning to become livid, her best friend, scratch that her EX- best friend, is asking her to plan a bully’s and a Liar’s party. No, oh Kwamii No she will not be doing that. She was about to say so when Miss Bustier walked in holding several envelopes.
“Please take a seat” Miss Bustier said and that was when Mari moved the binder as far from her as possible. “Today I have the results of the genetic testing we sent a while ago.” Everyone was beginning to murmur excitedly. Mari could only shrink into her seat. She was dreading this for multiple reasons. “Marinette would you please?”
Mari stood up and walked to her teacher took the envelopes and passed them out to the designated person. She kept hers and slipped it into her bag as soon as she got back to her seat.
She knew what it would say. She knew that it would not have what her ‘friends’ would think. It would only prove as Lila would claim that she was not actually wanted and that she was bullying her because she was loved, and Mari wasn’t. Luckily, no one noticed her as they were too excited with their own results. It wasn’t until the lunch bell rang that the dreaded moment came.
“So, Mari what were your results.” Adrien asked, once upon a time she would have gushed at him talking to her but now her crush was nothing but a pile of ashes in the wind.
“I don’t know” She replied as she picked up her bag and began to head out of the class.
“Wait you didn’t look at it” Adrien practically yelled and that got the class’s attention. He was giving her a frown and couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t even look.
“Why would you not look at your result Marinette?” Lila spoke in a sickly-sweet voice. “Are you ashamed that you have someone you want to hide from the class?” everyone began to murmur and was beginning to give her skeptical glares. As if she would attack them, almost no one noticed how Kim and Nino came around to block the door.
Mari was beginning to grow frustrated that they would not let her leave and that they continued to glare at her like a criminal. She had enough. “I WAS ADOPTED!!!” that made everyone go quiet and stared at her. “I was adopted when I was a couple of moths old and I have NO intention on knowing my biological family” she turned, and Nino and Kim were shocked that she simply slipped passed them and went home.
However, she knew who her biological father was. Well that isn’t the entire truth, she found out she was adopted when she was 10 years old. Her Biological father reached out stating he didn’t know until recently that he had a child. He wanted to get to know her and be a part of her life. However, Mari was stubborn, Tom and Sabine were her parents, so she told him she didn’t want to meet. Surprise though he was stubborn as well, he gave Mari his number and to call or message him even if it were to complain about him or anything at all. This had surprised her, and she did. She texted her father with things she didn’t feel she could tell her parents.
For the past 5 years she had told him about school, or mistakes she had made, and about her passion in fashion. He always seemed to listen and just let her rant. It was good for her. When she became ladybug, she was excited to tell him about the heroes of Paris. He sometimes never answered but she saw that he read them and that was comforting.
He became someone outside of Paris who helped anchor her. He would send her gifts for her birthday and messaged her when he could, and he really did help her though most of what was going on at school. She only knew him as Father, no name attached and that was fine. That was why she didn’t want to open the letter. She didn’t want a name to the person who cares for her as Marinette.
She went to the bakery and climbed the stairs knowing that it would be quiet. Her parents were taking a trip abroad for their anniversary along with her Nonna and that left her alone. “Tikki?” the little goddess floated up to her. “Should… should I… should I look at the names?” Mari wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to know but she also knew that she possibly would like to know.
“Mari the choice is yours but know that no one not even your father will think less of you if you never want to know.” Tikki really is always sure and can always make her feel better. Mari simply nodded went to get something to eat and stared at the letter she pulled out. As she finished her lunch and washed her plate, she turned to the letter with determination she opened it and read. Her Mother was blank, meaning that she probably hasn’t put her information on any site, but does say that she is of European decent. Then she looked at her father, he had a photo, black hair, and the same bluebell eyes. He was dressed in a suit and she looked at the name, Bruce Wayne. Next to her own photo was the photo of boy with tanned skin, black hair, and emerald green eyes, the name next to it was Damian Wayne. So, she had a brother, he looked close to her age, maybe he was the reason why her father contacted her years ago. Her father was also from European decent but that was about it. She’ll look into it more after school she dropped the envelope off in her room and left to go back.
She went back to class and sat in her seat before the bell rang so she was the first person back into the classroom. She kept her head down and didn’t look up from the sketch she was working on, she heard the whispers and caught a few glances at her, but she ignored them.
“Mari?” oh Kwamii why does he have to talk now again. She looked up and his expression softened into a small smile or more like a frown. “Do you…” he rubbed his neck. At this point everyone was staring between the two completely silent. “Do you want to talk about it?”
At this she scoffed “Why?” she was confused at this they wouldn’t talk to her unless it was to yell at her so why should she be vulnerable for them.
Alix spoke up “Why do you bother asking her anyways Adrien?” she snarked throwing Mari a glare. Adrien looked sheepish, and that was when Lila struck.
“Well if she puts it out in the open, she wouldn’t bully me, since we can help her. Make her feel loved since her parents didn’t want her” she spoke calmly and sweetly, and everyone nodded and agreed.
“Tell us Mari, you can trust us girl” Alya spoke from the class.
“Now why...” Mari was cut off as Miss Bustier entered to start the class. However, not even 10 minutes into the class the door opened. A man in a suit holding a folder came into the room.
“Miss Bustier” he asked, and the teacher nodded, so he continued. “I am sorry to disturb the class, but I need to speak with Miss Dupain-Cheng”
The teacher nodded and called “Marinette” gesturing towards the door. But of course, nothing was ever simple in this class.
“Sir if you need Marinette then you should also take Lila” Alya spoke up.
The man simply looked confused, “Why would I do that?”
“Marinette is bullying Lila so if you need Mari you need Lila as well” she huffed proud of her logic.
“I am sorry, but I really only need Miss Dupain-Cheng”
“Well whatever you need to say to her you can tell all of us”
Now the man looked exasperated and he turned towards the teacher. She nodded “It is for the best whatever you need to tell Marinette you can tell the class.” She stated.
He huffed and walked up the stairs to Marinette. “I am so very sorry for your loss Miss Dupain-Cheng. If you would please come with me, you are needed to verify the bodies.” This left the class in a quiet shock. They couldn’t believe what they just heard. Mari was wide eyed filled with tears ready to fall and was numb. She didn’t hear when everyone began to speak at once demanding answers of the man. And now Mari could tell he was mad. “Really I do not need to answer your questions as this matter only pertains to Miss Dupain-Cheng, this should have been done in private, so you” he pointed at Miss Bustier “will most likely be getting a call as soon as I will report this.” This shut up the class and he helped her up and walked her out.
Identifying the bodies was a blur in her mind, she was told they died as a riot stormed the airport on their way home. She was asked if she had anywhere to go “can you please give me a moment?” she spoke weakly and the woman who was in charge of her smiled and left her in the room. Thank the Kwamii that Hawkmoth had been inactive lately, so she was able to cry and mourn. She needed to tell someone anyone, but those she loved were gone and now what was she going to do. Tikki popped her head out of the bag and patted her leg. That was when she saw her phone, she picked it up and scrolled through her contacts. She got to the name Bio! Dad and pressed the call.
It rang a few times before he picked up. “Marinette is everything okay you don’t usually call?” she started to cry, and this put worry into his voice. “Mari sweetie what’s wrong. Deep breaths with me 1 in, hold 2, out 3. Again.” He repeated this until she was no longer gasping for breath.
“Maman, Papa, and Nonna died” she couldn’t keep strong anymore “please, please don’t leave me too.”
“I won’t Mari” his voice was the softest she had ever heard from him “I’ll be on the first plane over. I won’t leave you I promise” he hung up and she was finally starting to feel lighter. The woman from before came back.
“Are you okay sweetie?” she gave her a smile.
“I think I will be?” she gave a small smile.
“That call must have helped” Mari nodded in acceptance to the statement. “Who was it?”
“My Father, he is coming for me” the woman looked at her as if she grew another head. “My biological father. My maman, papa, and nonna that died were my adoptive family.” At that the woman gave her a sympathetic smile and a hug. “they were my family but…”
“Sweetie you don’t have to always be strong its okay to be sad.” She began to cry again. She was dropped off at the bakery by Officer Raincomprix, who gave her a sad smile and then left. Mari fell asleep in her parents’ room, Tikki curled up next to her.
She woke up the next morning and opened the Bakery, allowed in the staff, and went back to the apartment. Afterwards she went back up and curled up in her parents’ bed, but a notification on her phone made her stir again.
Bio!Dad: I’m in Paris where do you want me to meet you Mari?
Mari: The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie
Bio!Dad: I’ll be there soon I promise.
Not long after a staff member knocked on the door, she recognized the voice. “Someone is here to see you”
“Mari can I come in?” she heard Bruce and that prompted her to open the door. She didn’t care that she looked like a mess, as soon as the door opened, she hugged him and started to cry for what felt like the hundredth time in the past 24 hrs. He murmured reassurances to her and led her to the couch.
---
If anyone had told him that he was going to rush onto a plane because of the daughter he has never met in person called him crying, he would not have given you any kind of reaction. But here he is on a jet headed to Paris to meet and comfort his daughter, after her parent’s death. Yikes that is a lot to handle.
The only positive to all this is that he left discreetly enough that he wasn’t tailed by the boys. And that was a relief, if Mari had to meet him for the first time that alone was one thing but meeting Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian would probably send the child over the edge. That is considering the fact that she actually deals with and processes emotions like a human and not like a bat.
He hadn’t even finished checking into his hotel and he was restless he knew that Mari needed him and if Bruce was anything, he was overprotective of his family. And right now, one of his family was hurt and he had to do something. He texted her and she told him to go to a bakery.
Well if she said to go to a Bakery then he went to a Bakery. He stepped in and looked around before going up to the counter.
“Excuse me Miss?” he stated towards a Girl no older than Twenty behind the counter placing pastries into the case.
“Hello, how can I assist you today?” she smiled.
“I am here to speak with Marinette.”
“Ah. Your first time here right.” He nodded his head. “That girl always forgets. Follow me” he was confused but followed the young woman through the kitchen and to a small hallway and up a flight of stairs. Where she knocked on a door. There was shuffling on the other side “Someone is here to see you” she plainly stated, and footsteps were heard near the door but just shy of opening it.
“Mari can I come in?” his question was tentative but even he was surprised by the softness of his voice.
The door swung open and there she stood. Oh, she was adorable. Her black hair was in a messy bun and had blue highlights that emphasized her bluebell eyes, which were red and puffy from her crying. She fell into him into a hug and she was so small, he had to protect her from everything. The worker left and he moved the two of them to the couch.
After a couple of hours, he got the full story and to say he was pissed was an understatement. First there was the teacher and how they had handled the situation was awful, but besides that he wanted Mari safe, but he had to know what she wanted instead of making the decisions for her. He learned the hard way with his boys.
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#bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020#b ! dbwm2020#maribat#dc x miraculous#miraculous x dc#mlb x dc#dc x mlb#bruce wayne#marinette dupain cheng#class salt#unsure adrien#bio!dad bruce wayne
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