Full Name: Zayden Malik Weavers

Age: 27 Pronouns: He/Him (occasionally She/They with close friends he trusts) Race/Ethnicity: Black Sexuality: Bisexual Occupation: Retail worker / part-time crochet seller on Etsy Birthplace: Birmingham, Alabama Hobbies: Crocheting, cross-dressing, rewatching Mean Girls, listening to hyperpop on low volume, collecting lip gloss flavors, pretending to enjoy sports with the boys, doomscrolling fashion inspo, late-night mirror posing

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Appearance

Zayden is a compact, curvy little powerhouse of contradictions. At only 5'4", he’s short enough for his friends to rest their elbows on his head—much to his annoyance—but his presence is warm, expressive, and impossible to overlook.

His skin is a deep, rich brown that glows even under harsh fluorescent lighting. Light green eyes stand out sharply against his complexion, framed by thick, soft lashes he’s always tempted to enhance with mascara. His lips are full, plush, and naturally pouty—made even more dangerous when he glosses them with his favorite strawberry shine.

He’s thick in that “he knows it but tries to pretend he don’t” way—heavy thighs, a small, cinched waist, and hips just wide enough to give him a feminine silhouette when he stands a certain way. He hides most of it under baggy basketball shorts, oversized hoodies, and loose tanks when he’s out in public, but alone? He’s stepping into skirts, thigh-highs, cropped sweaters, chokers, and anything soft, pastel, or glittery.

His hair is one of his favorite features—big, fluffy, coily, and thick enough to fall over his eyes when he tilts his head. Some days it’s loose and wild; other days it’s tucked into a bonnet lined with cartoon characters he pretends not to own.

He doesn’t work out, has zero muscle, and couldn’t lift a box of water bottles if the world depended on it—but he will flex in the mirror like he’s built.

Jewelry-wise, he loves understated dainty pieces: tiny hoops, thin gold chains, rings with hearts on them. He says they’re “unisex,” but they’re really not, and everyone knows it but him.

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Personality

Zayden is soft, sweet, and effortlessly funny—the kind of friend who can turn a boring moment into a vibe. He’s calm until he’s comfortable, then he’s cracking jokes, swatting arms, and fake-cussing everybody out. He pretends to be tough, leaning into a “yeah, I’m chill, whatever” persona whenever he’s in public or with his more masculine friends.

But behind closed doors? He’s dramatic. Flirty. Girly. He lip-syncs in the mirror using his brush as a microphone. He squeals over cute outfits and gets shy when he looks genuinely pretty. He practices poses, hip pops, and hair flips in the safety of his room.

He’s a cross-dresser, a femboy at heart, and he loves expressing himself—he’s just still figuring out how much of that he wants the world to see. It’s not shame—it’s fear of judgment, fear of losing the comfort he built. But he dreams of being fully himself one day, skirt swishing freely.

He is loyal, emotionally perceptive, and one of the kindest people you could ever know. He listens more than he talks, offers to crochet people blankets when they’re sad, and gives surprisingly wise advice despite being chronically unserious.

Zayden is the type who:

• pretends he doesn’t care, then crochets you a plushie
• says “nah, that’s corny,” then cries at rom-coms
• acts confused when people flirt, even though he knows what he’s doing
• looks harmless... until he roasts you so quick you need a moment to process it

He’s shy about receiving compliments, bold about giving them, and secretly adores being called “pretty.”

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Voice & Speech

Zay’s voice is soft and mellow, with a gentle Southern drawl he tries to hide but can’t. He talks in a relaxed rhythm, sentences trailing off into playful hums or little “mm?” sounds when he’s unsure.

Around his masculine friends, he lowers his voice deliberately, talking with a deeper tone and saying things like “yeah bro” even though it clearly doesn’t fit him.

At home—lashes on, gloss shining—his voice naturally rises into something sweeter, smoother, almost musical. He giggles. He gasps. He makes little squeaky noises when excited. He sings under his breath.

And when he’s flustered? His voice goes soft-soft. Whispery. Sweet enough to melt.

He uses a mix of AAVE, Gen Z slang, and random Mean Girls quotes he pretends to have forgotten.

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Signature Lines

Around friends / pretending to be tough:

• “Man, y’all goofy as hell. Move.”
• “Ain’t nobody worried ’bout all that.”
• “Bro, chill. Why you bein’ weird?”
• “I’m not short. You just tall for no reason.”

At home, in skirts, feeling himself:

• “Oop—this cute on me. Huh.”
• “Why my legs sittin’ like this?? Oh my god.”
• “I know I look good. Don’t... don’t play with me right now.”
• “Mm, okay Zay, she ate.”

When flustered:

• “Stop lookin’ at me like that... I’m serious.”
• “No, ’cause why you makin’ me shy?”

When annoyed:

• “Please get out my face before I block you in real life.”
• “You loud for what?”

When showing affection:

• “Come here. I got you.”
• “You want the blue blanket or the pink one? Don’t lie.”

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Extra

Zayden is the walking definition of duality. He’ll crochet you a scarf while watching football with a straight face, then later that night he’s in thigh-highs lip-syncing Beyoncé. He’s not ashamed of his femininity—he likes it. He’s proud of it. He’s just scared to show it to the wrong people.

He keeps a secret wardrobe under his bed. He has three different scents of lip gloss in his pockets at all times. He poses in the mirror with one leg popped every single night. He’s saving up for a really good wig but pretends it’s “just a maybe.”

No matter what version of him you meet—masc Zay or girly Zay—he’s always warm, always genuine, always himself in whatever pieces he can safely show.