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Everyone needs a sicko to bounce ideas off of. It's necessary to survive any fandom ever.
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yeah so did anyone wanna see one of the mcs of one of me and bae’s wips?
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it’s my partner’s bday today so i drew our main ocs, mai (left, they/them) & slate (right, he/him) 💛
technically mai and my partner have the same bday. so happy mai day too :’)
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fucking your crush's best friend or an idiot's guide to pretending this is avoiding heartbreak
wip: main family
character(s): kameko akaryuu & densetsu arashi
general to know: ren wrote this before a lot of other stuff about the main family was established and it was several years ago buuuut didn't feel like editing too much so this is rough. however, tl;dr kameko has a crush on sora but sora likes mei. densetsu, mei and sora are childhood friends; deni Also has a crush on mei. kameko is new to the group for a variety of reasons, but she and deni have become very close.
(this is before the four of them + 3 other characters become apart of a polycule tm there's a lot going on but kame's 18 and deni's 20ish)
ren is also mainly posting this for a post asking about sex scenes he's written that he's liked SO.
Kameko pushed Densetsu back on the bed. He wasn’t Sora—she wasn’t Mei—but they’d both have to do.
“You sure you don’t wanna back out, Kamecchi?” Still, he helped her loosen the knot of the belt in his pants, and hissed when his dick hit the cooled room. They’d snuck off when the moon rose to its highest point in the sky and the preliminary celebrations for this year’s Feast of the Stars ended. Kameko gave him a look, then took him into her hand and gave him a rough stroke.
“Oi!”
“Do you?” She shimmied further down his body until she was nestled between his legs. He was half hard, still curved up towards his hip and lying there, and she bit at her lip. She’d never seen one up close before— it smelled... musty. Like heat. Earthy. She didn’t think she’d care too much but... taking in a whiff definitely made some of the screws on the sane part of her mind loosen. Her hand tightened slightly, she dragged it up, velvet sliding against her calloused skin. Above her, Densetsu cursed.
“Nah I mean—“ He looked down at her, hands drumming against the sheets. “— Thought you’d wanna save this for Iceberg.”
Kameko didn’t feel like rehashing how she didn’t have a chance with him again. Instead, she yanked her hand again, twisting, and reveled in how his hands fisted reflexively in the cotton.
“I look like some kind of romantic to you? Do you wanna save this for someone special?”
“It’s just sex.” He shrugged with a shoulder, then tentatively reached out, running his hand through her red locks. It made her shudder. “Not that big a deal.”
“Haah? You saying I’ll be bad?” Kameko jerked her hand again and she didn’t stop, distracting him from answering. She sort of didn’t want to know what he’d say to that, she already barely had self esteem as it was. She dragged her hand up, and down, twisting on every down pull, letting the velvet sensation and precum dripping down her fingers lubricate them to jerk faster.
“Tighter.” She squeezed. He finally moaned, his voice catching in his chest when he clamped his mouth shut behind sharp teeth. “Like this?”
“Yeah, ah—“ He moaned again on the down squeeze, and when the hand in her hair tightened for a fleeting moment then stopped, she whined. Above her, Densetsu propped himself up on his elbow, snickering. He tightened his hand in her hair again and she bit her lip hard, trying to hold back the whine.
It didn’t work.
“Masochist?”
“Shut it.” He grabbed her hair tighter and her eyes nearly rolled back, making her lose her rhythm. He laughed again and relinquished some of his grip and fuck it, that does it.
They didn’t really have a plan or agreement when they entered her room earlier. Kameko always imagined her first time would involve being more handsy and flirty up to the main event, but the two of them hadn’t even brushed past each other all evening until he saw her curled into herself sadly looking after Mei and Sora as they swayed in the firelight. He’d dragged her away from the fire then, because that’s what good friends did. Kameko wasn’t sure if good friends also distracted their friend from self pity by fucking them. Maybe he was hurting seeing them too. Regardless though, he never said a blow job was off the table and with his teasing, she’d really give him a reason to grab her hair.
“Hey, I don’t like that look in your eyes.” Kameko winked at him, then sat up a little, pushing some hair behind her ear. She leaned down and pressed her tongue against the tip, running it against the slit and the startled, clipped moan and shifting of his hips under her made her laugh. “Can’t handle it~?” She sang. She put her mouth around the head again before he could reply, and if she could laugh with her mouth currently occupied with dick, she would’ve when Densetsu moaned “You bitch,” and fisted her hair again, harder than before.
“You can’t just catch me— ah— off guard, shit—“ Kameko only hummed a senseless tune, the overwhelming heat and stretch of her jaw around him proving to be great distraction from something as simple as thoughts. Oh, god, this shouldn’t be turning her on this much. She could feel her pussy beginning to moisten between her legs and she clenched them together, feeling them stick. Shit. Densetsu’s hand in her hair seemed to only be interested in holding on like a vice, there was no press of her down harder, and she was grateful. He was already proving to be quite a mouthful already. What she couldn’t fit without choking, she gathered in a free hand again, leaving the other to rest on his hip. She peaked up at him but his eyes were screwed shut, his mouth agape— so she supposed she was doing an ok job, at least. Slurping sounds began to overtake the room alongside his soft curses and gasps. Remembering at some point she needed to breathe however, she slid her tongue back up and around his dick, easing herself off of it to give her jaw a break. When she finally began to mouth around the tip again, her pink eyes met green.
“You’re the worst.”
“Mm.” She hummed. Then, “I suck, don’t I?” Densetsu let out a laugh. “You don’t have to get me off all the way though, I can take it from here.”
“Are you saying that to be nice, or do you really just not want me to finish you off?” Kameko sucked hard on the head, as though she were leaving a hickey, and he gasped again, eyelashes fluttering. “I’m invested at this point.”
“To be nice.” Densetsu decided, leaving her scalp to run his hand down her neck, almost gently. His touch was featherlight and it startled her, enough so that her eyebrows furrowed. “I know Sora is who you want to be doing this with.”
“Don’t—“ She sighed. Frustrated. “Shut up and let me jerk you off. Jerk.” Densetsu opened his mouth to reply, but Kameko was on him again, and his words were lost to a drawn out moan. The hand on her neck moved to her jaw, then the rest of her face. She didn’t. Want. Pity. At least, not right now. Not when everything was fresh, and new, and still hurt like a bitch when she thought about it. Maybe after she’d been impulsive and sat on it for awhile she’d be ready to talk about what she wanted and what she craved and how much it hurt, but right now she wanted distraction and his dick was a great distraction.
So she lost herself in it, putting his hand on her throat so he’d feel the stretch, gripping and toying with his balls, running her long fingers against his perineum and his asshole, engulfing him down with the same determination she fought with. And he shuddered and moaned through it, especially when she gripped him tightly in her free hand and it only took a few more seconds before he was using his grip in her hair to pull her head back as his cum spurted from his still stiff dick like it was trying to escape something.
Kameko sat back with a small cough, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand to get rid of the drool.
“Six out of ten?” Densetsu dragged a hand over his face. “Eight out of ten.” he quipped back and she laughed hoarsely. “You look annoyed by that.”
“A lil.” He looked at her oddly, then sat up fully, not bothering to hide the stiffness that was recently making a new esophagus out of her throat. Recognizing the look, Kameko pulled into herself a little.
“You don’t have to help me out I...” She looked away. “I just wanted a distraction.”
“Who said I didn’t want to help, idiot Kamecchi.”
“Oi.” She slapped at him but caught empty air when he moved his leg, chuckling. “I’m not gonna be the only one to get something out of this.” He paused. “What do you need?”
Kameko thought for a moment. She could say something easy, like his fingers— but they’d be there all night and she didn’t want to cramp his hand up. She was too... mortified to ask him for his mouth— the beginning hints of stubble on his face were one thing but the idea of someone being between her legs was ironically, too overwhelming. But there was... an itch. Deep within. One that’d she’d been meaning to scratch, but hadn’t been able to successfully...
“... You can back out, ok.”
“I won’t.” Of course he’d take it like a challenge. She rolled her eyes. “No I mean,” She covered her eyes in embarrassment, not really sure how to word what she wanted to say next. She blindly groped, then wrapped her hand lightly around his cock when she bumped it, teasing the head again.
“I... This.” She couldn’t bear to see him, she was mortified. “This is what I want.” Densetsu was silent for a beat, and she knew it, she knew she was overstepping bounds, she shouldn’t have said a damn thing— “How do you want it?” Kameko peeked between her fingers, greeted with Densetsu’s most nonchalant gaze, but if she squinted she could tell he was blushing from the faint redness highlighted by the moonlight across his cheeks. “Really,” She insisted, hiding her face again. “You don’t need to—“
“And you didn’t need to blow me, but you did.” Densetsu countered. His hand reached down and covered the one that was still frozen on his dick, and squeezed both of them, meaningfully. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes I also want shit... yknow. Inside me.” If god took Kameko out now, she’d be okay with it. “Now tell me how you want it before I come over there.” Kameko let out a startled laugh, finally looking at him. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.” He had that damn determined look on his face again, blush and all, and Kameko’s resolve was weaker than her stomach for good hibachi. She sighed.
“O... On your back.”
Densetsu didn’t ask any more questions, and he settled back on the sheets again, making no move to stop Kameko when she finally willed herself to get on all fours and crawl over top of him. She looked down at him, and he up at her, and she sighed again, looking away self consciously before sitting up straight on his lap, his dick nudging against her ass. Her skirts were gathering around her waist, and she stupidly realized she should’ve taken them off before she got on top, but here she was and if she made any move to get off of him, she’d probably go into the closet and perish. “I...” God she could feel it, her whole face was on fucking fire. “It’s... Its easier if I... think of it as like... a dildo...”
“Cool.” Densetsu nodded, as though it made perfect sense, and his hands stayed still at his sides. “Just pretend I’m not here then. Take your time.”
“Pretend you’re not here? It’s your...” She looked down at him. His eyes were closed, as though he were resting. “... Nevermind.”
It took her a minute to work up the nerve. Remembering there was a clasp on the side that was holding up her skirts helped her get them off without really moving from her place on his lap, and pushing her underwear to the side was easy enough. It was mortifying feeling her cunt begin to drip down onto his pubes and dick, but she felt herself getting wetter all the same.
“I’m... Gonna stick it in now.”
“Mm, go ahead.” It was honestly remarkable that he was showing this much restraint, to be honest. She didn’t completely believe the narrative that Densetsu was impulsive and careless, but he definitely showed that side of himself to others more often than not. It was a wonder that he could remain so calm when one of his friends was about to sit on his cock, to use him like some human dildo— and the fact that he didn’t care either was also highly confusing. Once again, Kameko realized, she didn’t get anyone in this country, but overthinking this would lead to her never doing it... and her hormones were just about to drive her up the wall. She reached behind herself and grasped at it, still hard and velvety, and lined it up with her entrance. Feeling the head rub against her about sent her over the edge because her fingers nor the cucumbers she sometimes used felt quite like that. Nevertheless however, she sucked in some air and began to slowly lower herself.
“F— gh— Fuuuuuuck.”
Kameko ruined herself for masturbating forever in one fell swoop.
The burn, the stretch, feeling his dick carve out places in her and against her walls that even 4 fingers shoved inside of herself couldn’t dream of reaching made something like a train slam into every pleasure center in her brain and she keened. Loudly. She slapped her hands over her mouth self consciously looking down at him to see that he was still laying perfectly still with his eyes closed serenely.
Sora looks serene when he sleeps.
Her mind unhelpfully supplied this as she continued to sink lower and lower onto Densetsu’s cock, trying to remember how to fucking breathe. She finally felt the tip of him push against her cervix and it was so startling she came, right then and there, her hand still clamped over her mouth to hold back the moan that threatened to rip out of her.
“Fuck,” she mumbled, when she was able to stop shaking. She put one hand against his abs to hold herself steady, then slowly rose up, letting his cock slowly slide out of her again. She slid back down, and tried not to convulse. “Fuck.”
She went on like that for a few minutes, slowly rising and falling back on his cock, over sensitive and stimulated, completely fucking wrecked with it. Between that, and her imagination still demanding she think about the great muse of her life while she rode his best friend’s dick— it was hard to stop herself from shuddering and coming. Again.
And Densetsu was patient; didn’t try to speed her up, seemed perfectly content to lay there and let her shudder and squirm on his lap and give her half of what she’d been craving for months now, but still, it wouldn’t feel right to her if she didn’t... get him off again, in some way. I mean, now they weren’t even because she’d come twice and her body would probably cause her a heart attack in protest if she tried to cut this off now. Her resolve forming again, she took the hand off her mouth she placed it on Densetsu’s chest alongside her other one.
“Deni.” She whispered. Surprisingly (to her at least), he opened an eye and looked up at her. “Feel good?”
“Y-Yeah. Oh, don’t make that face, fucker.” she hit him, lightly and he laughed. She could feel his hands flexing next to her legs on the bed. “Need something?”
“I... Uh.” Her face was getting hot again and she cursed how easily flustered she got. “You don’t have to just... lay there.”
He chuckled. “I thought you said it was easier, this way.”
“I mean— it is! Was. Hmm. I—“ She paused. “I want to make you feel good too.” She bit her lip. “Just... Just pretend I’m Mei-hime or something. I don’t mind.” Densetsu was giving her another look— like the one he gave her every time he caught her looking after Sora like a lost puppy and she frowned at him.
“Are you sure? You really don’t mind that?”
“Of course not.” She knew what he meant— and she didn’t blame him. Her relationship and feelings towards Mei could be complicated sometimes, but only because she was jealous of the attention Sora gave her. But Mei was an angel, a sweetheart, the best girl friend she’d ever had— also, someone that probably looked adorable in bed, if she thought about it actually; maybe she’d give her heart a break and think about that the next time she was horny and needed to get off. But just like how he knew she was in love with Sora, she knew he loved Mei. She wouldn’t be mad at him for not thinking of the person currently shifting on his lap, herself, when she was currently imaging being on top of Sora in the same way.
“Give and take.” She said, factually. She rolled her hips on him, and it felt much, much different when Densetsu’s hands came up to rest on her hips like that, tightening his grip minutely when she clenched reflexively. “I can even moan cutely for you if you like. Ahn~ Deni~ Be gent— fuck!” At that, Densetsu flipped them over, driving deeper into her cunt and it was only because he was practically crushing her that the moan she let out didn’t turn into a surprised wail. He felt way too good like this way too good, shit—
“What was that for?!”
“Want me to go dig my hands in some ice so my hands are cold on your body?” Densetsu drove his hips forward and the earth dropped from underneath Kameko, holy. Fucking. Shit. His cock rammed up against her cervix with an absolute vengeance and she squirmed under him again, tearing at the sheets like a lifeline. “Holy fuck Deni—“
“Ahh Kameko, you feel so good~” he sang in a higher octave, way too close to Sora’s register and her mind absolutely ran with it, especially when he drove his hips home again making her legitimately see stars.
“Oh fuck you, that’s a low blow!” Kameko clawed at his back when he started up a rhythm, way, way too intense to be Sora (or was it? God if it wasn’t she’d be done for); his hands too warm and the growls too prominent but her mind couldn’t help it. Everything she felt was him— could so clearly imagine his white hair slicked with sweat, his pretty blue eyes hazy with lust looking down at her, his hiccuping moans she was sure he had when he buried himself deep in her dripping cunt—
And she was sure in Densetsu’s mind, it wasn’t his flat chested friend taking his cock. No, it was a beautiful, voluptuous princess, moaning to high heaven, drooling and squeaking when he pushed deep inside her pussy, begging him to either be gentle or go harder (Kameko would bet someone fifty yen that the princess was a freak, she just felt it); about his childhood friend turned first love.
And it was okay like this. It was good enough.
It was good enough when Densetsu took it out to spill his second load, cumming on her stomach and the sheets, and how she followed closely behind, nearly blacking out because it felt too fucking good.
And as they lay in the aftermath, sated and oversensitive, there was no cuddling. Densetsu sat up and tossed her his shirt, which she used to wipe his cum off of her with (he gave her a noogie for that, but it was worth it), then she picked up her top to slide back on as makeshift pajamas. He pulled his pants on, then reached down to ruffle her hair. “‘M gonna head back to my room ok?”
“Yeah...” She murmured. She could feel the wave of sleep threatening to pull her under, thank god this was her room, somewhere between entering and getting her guts rearranged she must’ve forgotten. Seeing her beginning to drift off, Densetsu stood from the bed, crossing the room towards the door.
“Night Kamecchi!”
“Night Idiot Densetsu.”
“Oi!” He tossed a pillow that fell off the bed in the madness at her and she let it hit back, too tired to even move, but still awake enough to wave to him when he opened the door, letting the dim hallway light stream in for a moment, before it shut again. She dropped her hand, then quickly fell asleep like that without another thought about it.
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Girlfriends!!!! 🥺🫶
Instagram 🔗
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new oc perhaps 👀
#another instance of ren stealing yves ipad to post the stuff they’re too shy to#THEIR ART IS SO PRETTY#i’m about to go through their old sketchbooks i s2g#art
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yves was figuring out leonè’s design and they’re so pretty 🥹
#the atelier#art#🍣: yes i’m going to post your shit yes i’m going to hype you up you can’t fucking STOP ME—#leonè
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reminiscing
(wow some “official” writing this is surprising)
wip: main family
character(s): nazam “naz” & anzu takuma (mentions of yarrah, mashiro, and mai)
tw(s): deadname mention, eating disorder, suicidal thoughts/ideation, body dysmorphia
a short walk through memory lane from naz’s perspective of life before he and anzu got together. there is a happy ending here we promise 😭💙
general to know: anzu was adopted by red and tsubame takuma when he was in high school from his abusive/neglectful parents—making mai and mashiro his adopted siblings. the story begins when anzu is still with his family and time skips around throughout he and naz’s life.
(also this is in 2nd person! naz is the narrator ‘you’ refers to anzu :3)
We first met in elementary school. First grade.
My older sister dropped me off. You came by yourself.
Both of us sat at the back of the classroom.
During recess you didn’t talk to anyone. You stayed by yourself in the sandbox and I stayed by myself in the classroom, with my book. I didn’t focus on it. I focused on watching you drag your shovel through the sand and stare longingly after the other children playing. You put your head down. So did I.
I think that was where it started.
People left me alone because I was quiet. I was weird. I always scored high on math tests and read computer textbooks I stole from my sister when we weren’t working on class projects. I stared the teacher down until she moved on from asking me to read aloud. She tried asking my parents about the books I read, and my father insisted I didn’t know how to read, it was her job to teach me. She asked me to read a sentence. I didn’t say a word. My father took it as proof. She seemed disappointed in me.
People bothered you because you were quiet. You came to school sometimes with bruises, and created your own through many fights on the playground. The teacher tried to call your parents in, and sometimes I would stall going home to see if they’d show up.
They didn’t.
The first time we spoke was a group project in 5th grade. I’d been watching you for a few years, but I was too shy to talk to you. You didn’t seem like you wanted to be bothered with the project anyway. I resigned myself to doing all the work in your stead, if it meant the teacher would stop pulling you aside to talk about ‘your grades.’ But you looked at me, with a look I’d never really seen before.
“What’s your name?” You asked. I hesitated. “... Naz… ara… Nazara.” I hated my name. “Nazara.” You repeated. I loved it. “Anzu. You ever go by Naz?”
I hadn’t, until you asked. And then that was the only thing I ever let anyone call me.
After the project we didn’t interact much. When I came into class, you’d give me a small quirk of your lips I suspected was a smile, but you always kept your head down and in response so did I. I didn’t smile much— I still don’t— but I always tried to make eye contact when I saw you come in late. You got into more fights, I read more computer books, and moved my interest towards differential equations and physics theorems, all books I stole from Yarrah. There wasn’t really any reason I should’ve understood it, but I did. I hid the books from our teachers. Once, you hid one for me. One of your usual offenders walked by and pushed my book into the middle of the floor during quiet time. I knew it was on purpose. You were getting stronger, he needed others to pick on. It was testing the waters. To see how weak I was. The thump of it on the floor was deafening. Everyone turned to look. Our teacher came over, and frozen, I stared at her. You saw my panic. You kicked the book under the bookshelf and hid it from view.
“What’s going on?” She asked. I said nothing. You said nothing. The bully said nothing. She clicked her tongue, and walked away.
You got into a fight with that bully at recess. I wish I would’ve stepped up to wipe your bloody nose.
💙💙💙💙
Middle school is when things started to change. Not between us. But for me.
We moved that summer to a town a few miles over. I never got to say goodbye. But the thought of never seeing you again made me throw up everything I ate. I did it in secret. No one knew. Yarrah caught me once, but I told her I just wasn’t feeling good. She told me to get more sun. I said I would. But the whole summer I spent glued to our family computer. I used my father’s card to buy myself spare parts, and he never noticed. I finished my first home-built PC by the time the first week of my new school should’ve been.
But turns out my parents never enrolled me. They were out of the country, and I guess they forgot. I took it upon myself to enroll myself at our old neighborhood middle school. Where I thought you would go. It was a walk to get there. Six and a half miles. I woke up at 4am every morning to get there. I walked alone. I didn’t eat. My reward was seeing you that first day I finally came to school, sitting at the back of the classroom, with your hood up and phone in hand. The tight feeling in my chest finally subsided.
“Naz,” You greeted me when I sat in the back desk next to you. “I didn’t know you had this class.”
“My parents enrolled me late.” I whispered. You hummed, understanding.
At lunch I went to the library and took a nap. I dragged myself awake at the bell. This became my routine.
💙💙💙💙
I grew skinnier. My hair began to thin out. I started wearing a beanie to school, and big bulky sweaters to hide my thin arms. I hid out every gym, behind the bleachers so they couldn’t see me. But I got to see you. You were getting taller now, and your shoulders got more broad. There was a day in gym that you all played dodgeball, and seeing you throw, I thought about being in your arms.
I threw up again after class.
We had one group project together in seventh grade, and you greeted me every day when you came to class with a small nod. That was enough, I thought. I made it be. I didn’t feel like I deserved anything more— with how I looked, with how I felt. I hated Nazara more and more with every passing day. The worst of it came on field trip day.
To the aquarium. I forged my parents signature, and I was sure you forged yours too. I sat in the back of the bus, and I thought you would too. I was almost excited. I wasn’t expecting someone to cheerfully call, “Anzu!” when you stepped on the bus.
You looked just as surprised too.
The person who called had pink hair. Their skin was pretty and dark brown. They looked bright and full of life, and their energy was contagious. You couldn’t see anywhere else to sit. You dropped down next to them near the front of the bus.
I stayed alone in the back, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
I don’t remember passing out.
💙💙💙💙
“Nazara. Stop being difficult.” The social worker frowned at me. I stared back at him impassively. “If someone has been neglecting you at home, we need to know that.” I didn’t say anything. After my week long coma after passing out on the bus, the doctors had been trying desperately to get something out of me. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them I did it to myself. I didn’t want to be Nazara. I didn’t want to be anything.
The social worker knew he wasn’t getting through to me. He sighed, and stood up. “Please try to eat at least something today, Nazara.”
He left.
💙💙💙💙
I hope you would become good friends with Mashiro. I hoped you would be happier.
💙💙💙💙
“Your child has fucking anorexia, and all you can care about is your business trip!” I heard Yarrah yelling at my father over the phone. It was a few weeks after I was discharged from the hospital. They diagnosed me, enrolled me in therapy sessions, and had a social worker come by every week to see how I was doing. But the diagnosis didn’t help. It felt like things were better when I ignored it. When I walked six miles to school, when I saw you in class, when I pretended that the budding shapes on my chest and the thinness of my arms weren’t there.
I put my pillow over my face. I wanted to shut everything out.
💙💙💙💙
You came by once. Out of the blue. I don’t think you meant to.
It had been… three years at this point. I should’ve been in 10th grade, with you. My neighborhood was in the same zone as the local high school, I could’ve ridden the bus instead of walking all that way to you. I think it’d been a year since I’d really been outside. I stayed in my room, in my empty house. I took my medicine. I had zoom calls with my therapist. I read computer engineering books. I built PCs, then took them apart. I bought things on Amazon with my dad’s money. I talked on and off with Yarrah. I never answered the door. Ever. I tried once. After I was pulled out of middle school. The postman’s disgusted look was all I needed to never try again.
But I’m not sure what compelled me today.
Maybe I was excited about my package coming, a new motherboard for my latest build. Maybe, I was starting to gain weight again after learning about being transgender. Maybe, for once, I felt good.
Maybe it was fate.
I crossed the darkened hall, I opened the door. I came face to face with a bright, beaming, pink face.
“Hi! My name’s Mashiro Takuma! This is—”
“—Anzu.” You said. You looked awkward, but maybe fond. “We’re helping my sister look for her lost cat. She got out the other day.” Mashiro handed me a flyer, and I studied it carefully. MEDUSA it read in bold letters, with the picture of a sleek, tiny legged black cat. It had big green eyes, that stared up at me from the flyer innocently. “Have you seen her at all?”
“I don’t leave the house much.” I said, shrugging.
“Oh…” Mashiro’s energy wilted. I felt my face pull into a frown. “My sister gets around town a lot, though.” I tried to amend. “When she comes home from work, I’ll ask her.” His beam: restored. You smiled behind him, mouthing ‘thank you.’ I tried to smile back.
“Well, if she’s heard anything, you can contact me here.” Mashiro directed my eyes to the bottom of the flyer where a host of contact numbers were recorded. There was a Red Takuma, Tsubame Takuma, Mashiro Takuma and Anzu. No last name. I nodded slowly. I carefully tucked the flyer under my arm.
“All of her favorite foods and some tips on coaxing her inside are on the back, so if you see her, please, do your best!” Mashiro gave me a cheerful thumbs up, and I laughed. Softly. I couldn’t remember when the last time I laughed was.
“I’ll try.” I promised. And then with a wave, the two of you were off. I held the door open until I saw you all disappear around the bend of the next street, then slowly let the door fall shut. I stared down at the flyer from the safety of my room. I didn’t wait. I called Yarrah. Turns out she had seen the cat. She was friendly, and hiding behind the building she worked at. It was easy enough to take her in.
I didn’t go when she returned Medusa to you all. I was still too scared to face the world.
💙💙💙💙
May. You and Mashiro should be graduating now.
I stared out of the window of Yarrah’s apartment, my head pillowed in far too many cushions. The surgery went well. I was discharged yesterday. I looked down at the bandages and gauze that protected my vulnerably flat chest. Even if everything was sore, and a bit tight, my chest felt light, physically and metaphorically.
“Naz!” Yarrah burst into the room, bringing something warm and good smelling with her. Soup, probably. Maybe curry. She rested it down in front of me, ruffling my hair. “Make sure you finish at least half.”
“I’ll try.” I meant it. “Once this heals up, we’re gonna take you to get your name change, okay?”
“Thank you Ra. … I mean it.”
“I’m your sister.” She shrugged. “It’s what I do.” We already went over the argument a million times that she didn’t have to, I could see the flames in her eyes, ready to pounce if I tried it. I ceded, bowing my head. “Thank you.” I said instead, quietly. She left only a few minutes after. Running down to the store, I think. I closed my eyes. I dreamed of you.
💙💙💙💙
I stopped by a grocery store, just to grab something quick. I had a long stretch of contract requirements I needed to get on tonight, or my boss would have my ass. But I was slowly learning to fuel myself while I did it.
I wasn’t expecting to see you there.
You’d grown. So much. You were two or three heads taller than me, more filled out than before. The hoodie you wore fit snug around your arms, your jeans were tight and fit well. Your eyes were bright; brighter than I ever remembered seeing them when we were young. A pair of blue beats rested around your neck and you had a sleek phone pressed against your ear.
“— tell Mai I’m almost done getting the ingredients.” You were saying. “I can’t find the red velvet cake they want.” I glanced at my basket. The last slice of red velvet cake stared up at me.
Talk to them. My brain said.
I can’t.
“Shiro, don’t you start whining too!” You laughed. That was the first time I really heard your laugh up close and my heart burst.
“Alright, I’ll see you soon. Ja!” You ended the call just as I turned on my heel, leaving the cake next to your basket. Even if that was all I could do… it was enough. It would be enough.
“Oh, hey, you don’t have to do that.” I felt a hand rest on my shoulder; with nails painted black and silver rings adorning it’s long fingers. My heart jackhammered against my chest.
“It’s fine.” I cleared my throat. “I probably wouldn’t finish it anyway.” I racked my brain from what I remembered. “And that’s Mai’s favorite, right?”
“Yeah, but how did you…”
I glanced at you over my shoulder and your words died in your throat.
I smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Naz?”
My heart nearly stopped. I stared at you, wide-eyed. I never… never thought…
Your face lit up in a grin.
“Is that you? Wow, it’s been awhile. How have you been?”
“I… I’ve been…” I searched for words, still trying to shake off my shock. I angled my body to face you completely.
“I’ve been okay— better, than before I guess.” I chuckled, dryly. “You look good though, Anzu.” My tongue felt too big for my mouth. When was the last time I talked this much? To my therapist maybe. “I feel good.” Your voice went soft, warm. My chest bloomed. “I’m so glad.” I said back.
A silence drifted over us, an inevitable one. We never spoke much when we were young, and then I vanished. I wasn’t supposing there was much left to talk about. “I hope they enjoy the cake—“
“Can we meet up sometime?” You said, fast. Your expression was almost panicked, as though you were afraid of something. Of me saying no? Never to you. Ever.
“Sure,” I tried for flippant, but my voice was too fond. “But um.” I gestured vaguely towards myself. “It’s Nazam. Now. Um.” My voice got caught in my throat. I cleared it. “Not Nazara.” I wasn’t sure if you’d catch my meaning. You did. You smiled in relief.
“Nazam.” You repeated. You took my hands in yours. “Nazam. It suits you” I ducked my head, feeling my cheeks begin to flush. I coughed softly. “W-When did you want to meet?”
💙💙💙💙
I traced my fingers across the scatter of tattoos on your arms. The dawn had barely begun to peak over the horizon, and everything in our house was still covered in boxes. The only thing we’d bothered to unpack was maybe a quarter of our room, the bed at the very least so we could have somewhere to sleep. You murmured something, then turned towards me, pulling me tight against your chest.
“You up?” You murmured.
“Unfortunately.” I whispered back. You pressed your lips soft against my head.
“Go back to sleep, clover. We can unpack your precious gadgets tomorrow.”
“I guess I can survive until then.” I chuckled, and your soft, sleep-laden laugh rumbled against my cheek. I traced my fingers over your lips.
“I love you, Anz.” Soft. Even with your eyes closed, you smiled. “I love you too, Naz.”
The hole in my ribs finally closed. I buried into you and let your breathing soothe me back to sleep.
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reminiscing
(wow some “official” writing this is surprising)
wip: main family
character(s): nazam “naz” & anzu takuma (mentions of yarrah, mashiro, and mai)
tw(s): deadname mention, eating disorder, suicidal thoughts/ideation, body dysmorphia
a short walk through memory lane from naz’s perspective of life before he and anzu got together. there is a happy ending here we promise 😭💙
general to know: anzu was adopted by red and tsubame takuma when he was in high school from his abusive/neglectful parents—making mai and mashiro his adopted siblings. the story begins when anzu is still with his family and time skips around throughout he and naz’s life.
(also this is in 2nd person! naz is the narrator ‘you’ refers to anzu :3)
We first met in elementary school. First grade.
My older sister dropped me off. You came by yourself.
Both of us sat at the back of the classroom.
During recess you didn’t talk to anyone. You stayed by yourself in the sandbox and I stayed by myself in the classroom, with my book. I didn’t focus on it. I focused on watching you drag your shovel through the sand and stare longingly after the other children playing. You put your head down. So did I.
I think that was where it started.
People left me alone because I was quiet. I was weird. I always scored high on math tests and read computer textbooks I stole from my sister when we weren’t working on class projects. I stared the teacher down until she moved on from asking me to read aloud. She tried asking my parents about the books I read, and my father insisted I didn’t know how to read, it was her job to teach me. She asked me to read a sentence. I didn’t say a word. My father took it as proof. She seemed disappointed in me.
People bothered you because you were quiet. You came to school sometimes with bruises, and created your own through many fights on the playground. The teacher tried to call your parents in, and sometimes I would stall going home to see if they’d show up.
They didn’t.
The first time we spoke was a group project in 5th grade. I’d been watching you for a few years, but I was too shy to talk to you. You didn’t seem like you wanted to be bothered with the project anyway. I resigned myself to doing all the work in your stead, if it meant the teacher would stop pulling you aside to talk about ‘your grades.’ But you looked at me, with a look I’d never really seen before.
“What’s your name?” You asked. I hesitated. “... Naz… ara… Nazara.” I hated my name. “Nazara.” You repeated. I loved it. “Anzu. You ever go by Naz?”
I hadn’t, until you asked. And then that was the only thing I ever let anyone call me.
After the project we didn’t interact much. When I came into class, you’d give me a small quirk of your lips I suspected was a smile, but you always kept your head down and in response so did I. I didn’t smile much— I still don’t— but I always tried to make eye contact when I saw you come in late. You got into more fights, I read more computer books, and moved my interest towards differential equations and physics theorems, all books I stole from Yarrah. There wasn’t really any reason I should’ve understood it, but I did. I hid the books from our teachers. Once, you hid one for me. One of your usual offenders walked by and pushed my book into the middle of the floor during quiet time. I knew it was on purpose. You were getting stronger, he needed others to pick on. It was testing the waters. To see how weak I was. The thump of it on the floor was deafening. Everyone turned to look. Our teacher came over, and frozen, I stared at her. You saw my panic. You kicked the book under the bookshelf and hid it from view.
“What’s going on?” She asked. I said nothing. You said nothing. The bully said nothing. She clicked her tongue, and walked away.
You got into a fight with that bully at recess. I wish I would’ve stepped up to wipe your bloody nose.
💙💙💙💙
Middle school is when things started to change. Not between us. But for me.
We moved that summer to a town a few miles over. I never got to say goodbye. But the thought of never seeing you again made me throw up everything I ate. I did it in secret. No one knew. Yarrah caught me once, but I told her I just wasn’t feeling good. She told me to get more sun. I said I would. But the whole summer I spent glued to our family computer. I used my father’s card to buy myself spare parts, and he never noticed. I finished my first home-built PC by the time the first week of my new school should’ve been.
But turns out my parents never enrolled me. They were out of the country, and I guess they forgot. I took it upon myself to enroll myself at our old neighborhood middle school. Where I thought you would go. It was a walk to get there. Six and a half miles. I woke up at 4am every morning to get there. I walked alone. I didn’t eat. My reward was seeing you that first day I finally came to school, sitting at the back of the classroom, with your hood up and phone in hand. The tight feeling in my chest finally subsided.
“Naz,” You greeted me when I sat in the back desk next to you. “I didn’t know you had this class.”
“My parents enrolled me late.” I whispered. You hummed, understanding.
At lunch I went to the library and took a nap. I dragged myself awake at the bell. This became my routine.
💙💙💙💙
I grew skinnier. My hair began to thin out. I started wearing a beanie to school, and big bulky sweaters to hide my thin arms. I hid out every gym, behind the bleachers so they couldn’t see me. But I got to see you. You were getting taller now, and your shoulders got more broad. There was a day in gym that you all played dodgeball, and seeing you throw, I thought about being in your arms.
I threw up again after class.
We had one group project together in seventh grade, and you greeted me every day when you came to class with a small nod. That was enough, I thought. I made it be. I didn’t feel like I deserved anything more— with how I looked, with how I felt. I hated Nazara more and more with every passing day. The worst of it came on field trip day.
To the aquarium. I forged my parents signature, and I was sure you forged yours too. I sat in the back of the bus, and I thought you would too. I was almost excited. I wasn’t expecting someone to cheerfully call, “Anzu!” when you stepped on the bus.
You looked just as surprised too.
The person who called had pink hair. Their skin was pretty and dark brown. They looked bright and full of life, and their energy was contagious. You couldn’t see anywhere else to sit. You dropped down next to them near the front of the bus.
I stayed alone in the back, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
I don’t remember passing out.
💙💙💙💙
“Nazara. Stop being difficult.” The social worker frowned at me. I stared back at him impassively. “If someone has been neglecting you at home, we need to know that.” I didn’t say anything. After my week long coma after passing out on the bus, the doctors had been trying desperately to get something out of me. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them I did it to myself. I didn’t want to be Nazara. I didn’t want to be anything.
The social worker knew he wasn’t getting through to me. He sighed, and stood up. “Please try to eat at least something today, Nazara.”
He left.
💙💙💙💙
I hope you would become good friends with Mashiro. I hoped you would be happier.
💙💙💙💙
“Your child has fucking anorexia, and all you can care about is your business trip!” I heard Yarrah yelling at my father over the phone. It was a few weeks after I was discharged from the hospital. They diagnosed me, enrolled me in therapy sessions, and had a social worker come by every week to see how I was doing. But the diagnosis didn’t help. It felt like things were better when I ignored it. When I walked six miles to school, when I saw you in class, when I pretended that the budding shapes on my chest and the thinness of my arms weren’t there.
I put my pillow over my face. I wanted to shut everything out.
💙💙💙💙
You came by once. Out of the blue. I don’t think you meant to.
It had been… three years at this point. I should’ve been in 10th grade, with you. My neighborhood was in the same zone as the local high school, I could’ve ridden the bus instead of walking all that way to you. I think it’d been a year since I’d really been outside. I stayed in my room, in my empty house. I took my medicine. I had zoom calls with my therapist. I read computer engineering books. I built PCs, then took them apart. I bought things on Amazon with my dad’s money. I talked on and off with Yarrah. I never answered the door. Ever. I tried once. After I was pulled out of middle school. The postman’s disgusted look was all I needed to never try again.
But I’m not sure what compelled me today.
Maybe I was excited about my package coming, a new motherboard for my latest build. Maybe, I was starting to gain weight again after learning about being transgender. Maybe, for once, I felt good.
Maybe it was fate.
I crossed the darkened hall, I opened the door. I came face to face with a bright, beaming, pink face.
“Hi! My name’s Mashiro Takuma! This is—”
“—Anzu.” You said. You looked awkward, but maybe fond. “We’re helping my sister look for her lost cat. She got out the other day.” Mashiro handed me a flyer, and I studied it carefully. MEDUSA it read in bold letters, with the picture of a sleek, tiny legged black cat. It had big green eyes, that stared up at me from the flyer innocently. “Have you seen her at all?”
“I don’t leave the house much.” I said, shrugging.
“Oh…” Mashiro’s energy wilted. I felt my face pull into a frown. “My sister gets around town a lot, though.” I tried to amend. “When she comes home from work, I’ll ask her.” His beam: restored. You smiled behind him, mouthing ‘thank you.’ I tried to smile back.
“Well, if she’s heard anything, you can contact me here.” Mashiro directed my eyes to the bottom of the flyer where a host of contact numbers were recorded. There was a Red Takuma, Tsubame Takuma, Mashiro Takuma and Anzu. No last name. I nodded slowly. I carefully tucked the flyer under my arm.
“All of her favorite foods and some tips on coaxing her inside are on the back, so if you see her, please, do your best!” Mashiro gave me a cheerful thumbs up, and I laughed. Softly. I couldn’t remember when the last time I laughed was.
“I’ll try.” I promised. And then with a wave, the two of you were off. I held the door open until I saw you all disappear around the bend of the next street, then slowly let the door fall shut. I stared down at the flyer from the safety of my room. I didn’t wait. I called Yarrah. Turns out she had seen the cat. She was friendly, and hiding behind the building she worked at. It was easy enough to take her in.
I didn’t go when she returned Medusa to you all. I was still too scared to face the world.
💙💙💙💙
May. You and Mashiro should be graduating now.
I stared out of the window of Yarrah’s apartment, my head pillowed in far too many cushions. The surgery went well. I was discharged yesterday. I looked down at the bandages and gauze that protected my vulnerably flat chest. Even if everything was sore, and a bit tight, my chest felt light, physically and metaphorically.
“Naz!” Yarrah burst into the room, bringing something warm and good smelling with her. Soup, probably. Maybe curry. She rested it down in front of me, ruffling my hair. “Make sure you finish at least half.”
“I’ll try.” I meant it. “Once this heals up, we’re gonna take you to get your name change, okay?”
“Thank you Ra. … I mean it.”
“I’m your sister.” She shrugged. “It’s what I do.” We already went over the argument a million times that she didn’t have to, I could see the flames in her eyes, ready to pounce if I tried it. I ceded, bowing my head. “Thank you.” I said instead, quietly. She left only a few minutes after. Running down to the store, I think. I closed my eyes. I dreamed of you.
💙💙💙💙
I stopped by a grocery store, just to grab something quick. I had a long stretch of contract requirements I needed to get on tonight, or my boss would have my ass. But I was slowly learning to fuel myself while I did it.
I wasn’t expecting to see you there.
You’d grown. So much. You were two or three heads taller than me, more filled out than before. The hoodie you wore fit snug around your arms, your jeans were tight and fit well. Your eyes were bright; brighter than I ever remembered seeing them when we were young. A pair of blue beats rested around your neck and you had a sleek phone pressed against your ear.
“— tell Mai I’m almost done getting the ingredients.” You were saying. “I can’t find the red velvet cake they want.” I glanced at my basket. The last slice of red velvet cake stared up at me.
Talk to them. My brain said.
I can’t.
“Shiro, don’t you start whining too!” You laughed. That was the first time I really heard your laugh up close and my heart burst.
“Alright, I’ll see you soon. Ja!” You ended the call just as I turned on my heel, leaving the cake next to your basket. Even if that was all I could do… it was enough. It would be enough.
“Oh, hey, you don’t have to do that.” I felt a hand rest on my shoulder; with nails painted black and silver rings adorning it’s long fingers. My heart jackhammered against my chest.
“It’s fine.” I cleared my throat. “I probably wouldn’t finish it anyway.” I racked my brain from what I remembered. “And that’s Mai’s favorite, right?”
“Yeah, but how did you…”
I glanced at you over my shoulder and your words died in your throat.
I smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Naz?”
My heart nearly stopped. I stared at you, wide-eyed. I never… never thought…
Your face lit up in a grin.
“Is that you? Wow, it’s been awhile. How have you been?”
“I… I’ve been…” I searched for words, still trying to shake off my shock. I angled my body to face you completely.
“I’ve been okay— better, than before I guess.” I chuckled, dryly. “You look good though, Anzu.” My tongue felt too big for my mouth. When was the last time I talked this much? To my therapist maybe. “I feel good.” Your voice went soft, warm. My chest bloomed. “I’m so glad.” I said back.
A silence drifted over us, an inevitable one. We never spoke much when we were young, and then I vanished. I wasn’t supposing there was much left to talk about. “I hope they enjoy the cake—“
“Can we meet up sometime?” You said, fast. Your expression was almost panicked, as though you were afraid of something. Of me saying no? Never to you. Ever.
“Sure,” I tried for flippant, but my voice was too fond. “But um.” I gestured vaguely towards myself. “It’s Nazam. Now. Um.” My voice got caught in my throat. I cleared it. “Not Nazara.” I wasn’t sure if you’d catch my meaning. You did. You smiled in relief.
“Nazam.” You repeated. You took my hands in yours. “Nazam. It suits you” I ducked my head, feeling my cheeks begin to flush. I coughed softly. “W-When did you want to meet?”
💙💙💙💙
I traced my fingers across the scatter of tattoos on your arms. The dawn had barely begun to peak over the horizon, and everything in our house was still covered in boxes. The only thing we’d bothered to unpack was maybe a quarter of our room, the bed at the very least so we could have somewhere to sleep. You murmured something, then turned towards me, pulling me tight against your chest.
“You up?” You murmured.
“Unfortunately.” I whispered back. You pressed your lips soft against my head.
“Go back to sleep, clover. We can unpack your precious gadgets tomorrow.”
“I guess I can survive until then.” I chuckled, and your soft, sleep-laden laugh rumbled against my cheek. I traced my fingers over your lips.
“I love you, Anz.” Soft. Even with your eyes closed, you smiled. “I love you too, Naz.”
The hole in my ribs finally closed. I buried into you and let your breathing soothe me back to sleep.
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and a naz doodle from today! favorite tired boy 💙
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
reminiscing
(wow some “official” writing this is surprising)
wip: main family
character(s): nazam “naz” & anzu takuma (mentions of yarrah, mashiro, and mai)
tw(s): deadname mention, eating disorder, suicidal thoughts/ideation, body dysmorphia
a short walk through memory lane from naz’s perspective of life before he and anzu got together. there is a happy ending here we promise 😭💙
general to know: anzu was adopted by red and tsubame takuma when he was in high school from his abusive/neglectful parents—making mai and mashiro his adopted siblings. the story begins when anzu is still with his family and time skips around throughout he and naz’s life.
(also this is in 2nd person! naz is the narrator ‘you’ refers to anzu :3)
We first met in elementary school. First grade.
My older sister dropped me off. You came by yourself.
Both of us sat at the back of the classroom.
During recess you didn’t talk to anyone. You stayed by yourself in the sandbox and I stayed by myself in the classroom, with my book. I didn’t focus on it. I focused on watching you drag your shovel through the sand and stare longingly after the other children playing. You put your head down. So did I.
I think that was where it started.
People left me alone because I was quiet. I was weird. I always scored high on math tests and read computer textbooks I stole from my sister when we weren’t working on class projects. I stared the teacher down until she moved on from asking me to read aloud. She tried asking my parents about the books I read, and my father insisted I didn’t know how to read, it was her job to teach me. She asked me to read a sentence. I didn’t say a word. My father took it as proof. She seemed disappointed in me.
People bothered you because you were quiet. You came to school sometimes with bruises, and created your own through many fights on the playground. The teacher tried to call your parents in, and sometimes I would stall going home to see if they’d show up.
They didn’t.
The first time we spoke was a group project in 5th grade. I’d been watching you for a few years, but I was too shy to talk to you. You didn’t seem like you wanted to be bothered with the project anyway. I resigned myself to doing all the work in your stead, if it meant the teacher would stop pulling you aside to talk about ‘your grades.’ But you looked at me, with a look I’d never really seen before.
“What’s your name?” You asked. I hesitated. “... Naz… ara… Nazara.” I hated my name. “Nazara.” You repeated. I loved it. “Anzu. You ever go by Naz?”
I hadn’t, until you asked. And then that was the only thing I ever let anyone call me.
After the project we didn’t interact much. When I came into class, you’d give me a small quirk of your lips I suspected was a smile, but you always kept your head down and in response so did I. I didn’t smile much— I still don’t— but I always tried to make eye contact when I saw you come in late. You got into more fights, I read more computer books, and moved my interest towards differential equations and physics theorems, all books I stole from Yarrah. There wasn’t really any reason I should’ve understood it, but I did. I hid the books from our teachers. Once, you hid one for me. One of your usual offenders walked by and pushed my book into the middle of the floor during quiet time. I knew it was on purpose. You were getting stronger, he needed others to pick on. It was testing the waters. To see how weak I was. The thump of it on the floor was deafening. Everyone turned to look. Our teacher came over, and frozen, I stared at her. You saw my panic. You kicked the book under the bookshelf and hid it from view.
“What’s going on?” She asked. I said nothing. You said nothing. The bully said nothing. She clicked her tongue, and walked away.
You got into a fight with that bully at recess. I wish I would’ve stepped up to wipe your bloody nose.
💙💙💙💙
Middle school is when things started to change. Not between us. But for me.
We moved that summer to a town a few miles over. I never got to say goodbye. But the thought of never seeing you again made me throw up everything I ate. I did it in secret. No one knew. Yarrah caught me once, but I told her I just wasn’t feeling good. She told me to get more sun. I said I would. But the whole summer I spent glued to our family computer. I used my father’s card to buy myself spare parts, and he never noticed. I finished my first home-built PC by the time the first week of my new school should’ve been.
But turns out my parents never enrolled me. They were out of the country, and I guess they forgot. I took it upon myself to enroll myself at our old neighborhood middle school. Where I thought you would go. It was a walk to get there. Six and a half miles. I woke up at 4am every morning to get there. I walked alone. I didn’t eat. My reward was seeing you that first day I finally came to school, sitting at the back of the classroom, with your hood up and phone in hand. The tight feeling in my chest finally subsided.
“Naz,” You greeted me when I sat in the back desk next to you. “I didn’t know you had this class.”
“My parents enrolled me late.” I whispered. You hummed, understanding.
At lunch I went to the library and took a nap. I dragged myself awake at the bell. This became my routine.
💙💙💙💙
I grew skinnier. My hair began to thin out. I started wearing a beanie to school, and big bulky sweaters to hide my thin arms. I hid out every gym, behind the bleachers so they couldn’t see me. But I got to see you. You were getting taller now, and your shoulders got more broad. There was a day in gym that you all played dodgeball, and seeing you throw, I thought about being in your arms.
I threw up again after class.
We had one group project together in seventh grade, and you greeted me every day when you came to class with a small nod. That was enough, I thought. I made it be. I didn’t feel like I deserved anything more— with how I looked, with how I felt. I hated Nazara more and more with every passing day. The worst of it came on field trip day.
To the aquarium. I forged my parents signature, and I was sure you forged yours too. I sat in the back of the bus, and I thought you would too. I was almost excited. I wasn’t expecting someone to cheerfully call, “Anzu!” when you stepped on the bus.
You looked just as surprised too.
The person who called had pink hair. Their skin was pretty and dark brown. They looked bright and full of life, and their energy was contagious. You couldn’t see anywhere else to sit. You dropped down next to them near the front of the bus.
I stayed alone in the back, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
I don’t remember passing out.
💙💙💙💙
“Nazara. Stop being difficult.” The social worker frowned at me. I stared back at him impassively. “If someone has been neglecting you at home, we need to know that.” I didn’t say anything. After my week long coma after passing out on the bus, the doctors had been trying desperately to get something out of me. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them I did it to myself. I didn’t want to be Nazara. I didn’t want to be anything.
The social worker knew he wasn’t getting through to me. He sighed, and stood up. “Please try to eat at least something today, Nazara.”
He left.
💙💙💙💙
I hope you would become good friends with Mashiro. I hoped you would be happier.
💙💙💙💙
“Your child has fucking anorexia, and all you can care about is your business trip!” I heard Yarrah yelling at my father over the phone. It was a few weeks after I was discharged from the hospital. They diagnosed me, enrolled me in therapy sessions, and had a social worker come by every week to see how I was doing. But the diagnosis didn’t help. It felt like things were better when I ignored it. When I walked six miles to school, when I saw you in class, when I pretended that the budding shapes on my chest and the thinness of my arms weren’t there.
I put my pillow over my face. I wanted to shut everything out.
💙💙💙💙
You came by once. Out of the blue. I don’t think you meant to.
It had been… three years at this point. I should’ve been in 10th grade, with you. My neighborhood was in the same zone as the local high school, I could’ve ridden the bus instead of walking all that way to you. I think it’d been a year since I’d really been outside. I stayed in my room, in my empty house. I took my medicine. I had zoom calls with my therapist. I read computer engineering books. I built PCs, then took them apart. I bought things on Amazon with my dad’s money. I talked on and off with Yarrah. I never answered the door. Ever. I tried once. After I was pulled out of middle school. The postman’s disgusted look was all I needed to never try again.
But I’m not sure what compelled me today.
Maybe I was excited about my package coming, a new motherboard for my latest build. Maybe, I was starting to gain weight again after learning about being transgender. Maybe, for once, I felt good.
Maybe it was fate.
I crossed the darkened hall, I opened the door. I came face to face with a bright, beaming, pink face.
“Hi! My name’s Mashiro Takuma! This is—”
“—Anzu.” You said. You looked awkward, but maybe fond. “We’re helping my sister look for her lost cat. She got out the other day.” Mashiro handed me a flyer, and I studied it carefully. MEDUSA it read in bold letters, with the picture of a sleek, tiny legged black cat. It had big green eyes, that stared up at me from the flyer innocently. “Have you seen her at all?”
“I don’t leave the house much.” I said, shrugging.
“Oh…” Mashiro’s energy wilted. I felt my face pull into a frown. “My sister gets around town a lot, though.” I tried to amend. “When she comes home from work, I’ll ask her.” His beam: restored. You smiled behind him, mouthing ‘thank you.’ I tried to smile back.
“Well, if she’s heard anything, you can contact me here.” Mashiro directed my eyes to the bottom of the flyer where a host of contact numbers were recorded. There was a Red Takuma, Tsubame Takuma, Mashiro Takuma and Anzu. No last name. I nodded slowly. I carefully tucked the flyer under my arm.
“All of her favorite foods and some tips on coaxing her inside are on the back, so if you see her, please, do your best!” Mashiro gave me a cheerful thumbs up, and I laughed. Softly. I couldn’t remember when the last time I laughed was.
“I’ll try.” I promised. And then with a wave, the two of you were off. I held the door open until I saw you all disappear around the bend of the next street, then slowly let the door fall shut. I stared down at the flyer from the safety of my room. I didn’t wait. I called Yarrah. Turns out she had seen the cat. She was friendly, and hiding behind the building she worked at. It was easy enough to take her in.
I didn’t go when she returned Medusa to you all. I was still too scared to face the world.
💙💙💙💙
May. You and Mashiro should be graduating now.
I stared out of the window of Yarrah’s apartment, my head pillowed in far too many cushions. The surgery went well. I was discharged yesterday. I looked down at the bandages and gauze that protected my vulnerably flat chest. Even if everything was sore, and a bit tight, my chest felt light, physically and metaphorically.
“Naz!” Yarrah burst into the room, bringing something warm and good smelling with her. Soup, probably. Maybe curry. She rested it down in front of me, ruffling my hair. “Make sure you finish at least half.”
“I’ll try.” I meant it. “Once this heals up, we’re gonna take you to get your name change, okay?”
“Thank you Ra. … I mean it.”
“I’m your sister.” She shrugged. “It’s what I do.” We already went over the argument a million times that she didn’t have to, I could see the flames in her eyes, ready to pounce if I tried it. I ceded, bowing my head. “Thank you.” I said instead, quietly. She left only a few minutes after. Running down to the store, I think. I closed my eyes. I dreamed of you.
💙💙💙💙
I stopped by a grocery store, just to grab something quick. I had a long stretch of contract requirements I needed to get on tonight, or my boss would have my ass. But I was slowly learning to fuel myself while I did it.
I wasn’t expecting to see you there.
You’d grown. So much. You were two or three heads taller than me, more filled out than before. The hoodie you wore fit snug around your arms, your jeans were tight and fit well. Your eyes were bright; brighter than I ever remembered seeing them when we were young. A pair of blue beats rested around your neck and you had a sleek phone pressed against your ear.
“— tell Mai I’m almost done getting the ingredients.” You were saying. “I can’t find the red velvet cake they want.” I glanced at my basket. The last slice of red velvet cake stared up at me.
Talk to them. My brain said.
I can’t.
“Shiro, don’t you start whining too!” You laughed. That was the first time I really heard your laugh up close and my heart burst.
“Alright, I’ll see you soon. Ja!” You ended the call just as I turned on my heel, leaving the cake next to your basket. Even if that was all I could do… it was enough. It would be enough.
“Oh, hey, you don’t have to do that.” I felt a hand rest on my shoulder; with nails painted black and silver rings adorning it’s long fingers. My heart jackhammered against my chest.
“It’s fine.” I cleared my throat. “I probably wouldn’t finish it anyway.” I racked my brain from what I remembered. “And that’s Mai’s favorite, right?”
“Yeah, but how did you…”
I glanced at you over my shoulder and your words died in your throat.
I smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Naz?”
My heart nearly stopped. I stared at you, wide-eyed. I never… never thought…
Your face lit up in a grin.
“Is that you? Wow, it’s been awhile. How have you been?”
“I… I’ve been…” I searched for words, still trying to shake off my shock. I angled my body to face you completely.
“I’ve been okay— better, than before I guess.” I chuckled, dryly. “You look good though, Anzu.” My tongue felt too big for my mouth. When was the last time I talked this much? To my therapist maybe. “I feel good.” Your voice went soft, warm. My chest bloomed. “I’m so glad.” I said back.
A silence drifted over us, an inevitable one. We never spoke much when we were young, and then I vanished. I wasn’t supposing there was much left to talk about. “I hope they enjoy the cake—“
“Can we meet up sometime?” You said, fast. Your expression was almost panicked, as though you were afraid of something. Of me saying no? Never to you. Ever.
“Sure,” I tried for flippant, but my voice was too fond. “But um.” I gestured vaguely towards myself. “It’s Nazam. Now. Um.” My voice got caught in my throat. I cleared it. “Not Nazara.” I wasn’t sure if you’d catch my meaning. You did. You smiled in relief.
“Nazam.” You repeated. You took my hands in yours. “Nazam. It suits you” I ducked my head, feeling my cheeks begin to flush. I coughed softly. “W-When did you want to meet?”
💙💙💙💙
I traced my fingers across the scatter of tattoos on your arms. The dawn had barely begun to peak over the horizon, and everything in our house was still covered in boxes. The only thing we’d bothered to unpack was maybe a quarter of our room, the bed at the very least so we could have somewhere to sleep. You murmured something, then turned towards me, pulling me tight against your chest.
“You up?” You murmured.
“Unfortunately.” I whispered back. You pressed your lips soft against my head.
“Go back to sleep, clover. We can unpack your precious gadgets tomorrow.”
“I guess I can survive until then.” I chuckled, and your soft, sleep-laden laugh rumbled against my cheek. I traced my fingers over your lips.
“I love you, Anz.” Soft. Even with your eyes closed, you smiled. “I love you too, Naz.”
The hole in my ribs finally closed. I buried into you and let your breathing soothe me back to sleep.
#main family#writing#these two make us extremely emo i hope y’all feel the same way#nazam takuma#anzu takuma
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ren still doesn’t have a consensus for a good slate ref, but this is what we were thinking the profiles could look like:
(plain text below:)
FULL NAME (Nickname)
Ihorangi “Slate” Sagapolutele ⟶ His married name is Takuma (takes his partner’s name) & he prefers to be called Slate. Only those close to him or his side of the family call him “Rangi”
AGE (Birthday & Zodiac)
27+ (when he and Mai meet) ; born November 1st and he is a Scorpio
GENDER, PRONOUNS, SEXUALITY
Cis Male, He/Him, Demiromantic/Demisexual
RACE/ETHNICITY
Polynesian (Samoan)
SPECIES
Human
FAMILY & FRIENDS
Mother ⟶ Tusaga Sagapolutele ⟶ Slate grew up with a single mother and never knew his father. However, he was never short of male role models in his life because his mother had 6 older brothers and they all live extremely close to one another on Samoa and really look after each other communally. Slate loves his mom and reveres her greatly and though she isn’t forthcoming with her affection, it’s easy to tell that she adores her son.
Though he is an only child, Slate grew up as the third eldest child among all of the children of the Sagapolutele’s. He’s very close to his elder cousins Kahale and Kailani and considers the two of them more like older siblings than cousins. His love of children and cooking also stemmed here because he helped with the children and the cooking to ease the burden of the parents often.
When Slate moved to America, he quickly became best friends with Ariihere and Koa who were roommates at the time that they met, but since they all loved to surf and are all Pacific Islanders/Polynesian, they bonded. He also soon became good friends with Jill and Shouta, since Jill and Koa knew one another, both going to the same college. Finally, he became good friends with Mashiro when they started seeing and speaking to one another at the same gym, transitioning to hanging out and working out at Shiro’s home gym and eventually leading to him meeting Mai…
RELATIONSHIP STATUS
TAKEN by Mai Takuma. Mai and Slate were first introduced via Mai’s eldest brother Mashiro. Both of them being demisexual, it took some time for their feelings to develop but they crushed on each other for nearly a full year or two before they finally got together and they’ve been inseparable since. When they get married, Slate takes Mai’s name.
HOBBIES & INTERESTS
Cooking & Baking (special interest status and he’s very good at it, like home chef level), Surfing, Working Out, Spending time with friends and family (regardless of the occasion, he doesn’t like being alone)
MENTAL HEALTH / DISABILITIES
Autistic! Though he doesn’t learn this until he’s well into his adult years and he masks Very Well so most people don’t know.
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ren still doesn’t have a consensus for a good slate ref, but this is what we were thinking the profiles could look like:
(plain text below:)
FULL NAME (Nickname)
Ihorangi “Slate” Sagapolutele ⟶ His married name is Takuma (takes his partner’s name) & he prefers to be called Slate. Only those close to him or his side of the family call him “Rangi”
AGE (Birthday & Zodiac)
27+ (when he and Mai meet) ; born November 1st and he is a Scorpio
GENDER, PRONOUNS, SEXUALITY
Cis Male, He/Him, Demiromantic/Demisexual
RACE/ETHNICITY
Polynesian (Samoan)
SPECIES
Human
FAMILY & FRIENDS
Mother ⟶ Tusaga Sagapolutele ⟶ Slate grew up with a single mother and never knew his father. However, he was never short of male role models in his life because his mother had 6 older brothers and they all live extremely close to one another on Samoa and really look after each other communally. Slate loves his mom and reveres her greatly and though she isn’t forthcoming with her affection, it’s easy to tell that she adores her son.
Though he is an only child, Slate grew up as the third eldest child among all of the children of the Sagapolutele’s. He’s very close to his elder cousins Kahale and Kailani and considers the two of them more like older siblings than cousins. His love of children and cooking also stemmed here because he helped with the children and the cooking to ease the burden of the parents often.
When Slate moved to America, he quickly became best friends with Ariihere and Koa who were roommates at the time that they met, but since they all loved to surf and are all Pacific Islanders/Polynesian, they bonded. He also soon became good friends with Jill and Shouta, since Jill and Koa knew one another, both going to the same college. Finally, he became good friends with Mashiro when they started seeing and speaking to one another at the same gym, transitioning to hanging out and working out at Shiro’s home gym and eventually leading to him meeting Mai…
RELATIONSHIP STATUS
TAKEN by Mai Takuma. Mai and Slate were first introduced via Mai’s eldest brother Mashiro. Both of them being demisexual, it took some time for their feelings to develop but they crushed on each other for nearly a full year or two before they finally got together and they’ve been inseparable since. When they get married, Slate takes Mai’s name.
HOBBIES & INTERESTS
Cooking & Baking (special interest status and he’s very good at it, like home chef level), Surfing, Working Out, Spending time with friends and family (regardless of the occasion, he doesn’t like being alone)
MENTAL HEALTH / DISABILITIES
Autistic! Though he doesn’t learn this until he’s well into his adult years and he masks Very Well so most people don’t know.
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