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#does that mean I figured out what works for me?
kopykunoichi · 2 days
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Refresher for the people still confused about this...
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In a galaxy far, far away, EVERYONE has midi-chlorians in their blood. The Force resides in all living things. It binds the whole galaxy together. Midi-chlorians are what allow beings to commune with the Force. The more midi-chlorians you have, the more potential you have to RESPOND TO and WIELD the Force. But notice that Asajj couches her statement with the line that those with a higher m-count were "believed" to be more capable of wielding the Force. There's a correlation, but it's not necessarily the only factor (see Sabine Wren).
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This is the moment where the clones literally become stand-ins for the fans.
"What? If you can use the Force, you're a Jedi!"
No. If you can use the Force, you can use the Force. To use it as a Jedi uses it, you have to train as a Jedi. To use it as a Sith uses it, you have to train as a Sith. To use it like a Nightsister, you have to train as a Nightsister. Or you can get some rudimentary instruction and decide how you want to use it.
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Jango Fett didn't have a high m-count, so his clones didn't either. But Omega and the rest of the Batch were special cases. As Cut said, the Kaminoans create with a purpose. Their deviations were intentional. Hunters abilities have always suggested he had a higher m-count than the others. But Omega's ability to perceive things before they happen (her bad feelings are nearly always spot on) and her affinity with animals have always been hints that her m-count is a little higher.
(Will update with screen grabs when I get them)
At the end of the episode, Omega asks Ventress if she has a high m-count.
Ventress: *looking at her nails* From what I've seen...no.
Omega: Then why is the Empire after me?
Ventress: Believe it or not, I don't know everything. But seeing as how a high m-count would make you a target, consider yourself lucky.
Omega: But I'm already a target.
Wrecker: Don't worry about it, kid. We'll figure it out. C'mon, let's get some chow.
Omega: *sigh* Thanks for trying.
Once they're out of earshot...
Crosshair: You're lying.
Ventress: About which part?
Hunter: You tell us.
Ventress: If Omega did have that potential, she'd have to be trained. Which would mean leaving you behind.
Hunter: That's not happening.
Ventress: What you want is irrelevant. The fact is, the Empire is after her, and they won't stop. If I were you, I'd leave this place. You're not as safe as you think you are. Our business is done.
Crosshair: I still can't figure out which side you're on.
Ventress: My own.
Okay, so Ventress is clearly not telling the truth about the m-count, which we know, because we've already seen Omega's charts. I really don't understand why people keep taking Ventress at her word here. We know better, and so do Crosshair and Hunter. My guess is that she's trying to protect Omega because she knows firsthand what it's like to be taken from your family and trained as a young girl.
We know that when Omega was at Tantiss, she was receiving transfusions of blood with midi-chlorians the same as all the other clones (harvested from the dead Jedi they're undoubtedly holding in the vault). They were taking her blood samples, but Nala Se kept throwing them away because she knew Omega would retain the higher midi-chlorian levels and she didn't want Hemlock to know that. The Emperor needs a clone that will maintain a high m-count so he can eventually get himself a new body. We know he does get that body, but not for decades - presumably because a) he never gets Omega, and b) the Batch is gonna take the fight to them at Tantiss and blow up their entire supply of midi-chlorian donors. Think about it - they're still working on Project Necromancer in The Mandalorian (24 years after The Bad Batch), but their resources are severely limited. The Empire has been all but wiped out, the Emperor is hiding out on Exegol, Dr. Pershing is clearly no Hemlock since he keeps killing his test subjects, and Grogu seems to be the only m-count donor they can get their hands on. The Emperor's cloned body is also deteriorating rapidly in TRoS, which suggests that even 25 years after The Mandalorian, he STILL hasn't figured out the right formula for cloning himself (which is good news for Grogu and Omega).
Which brings us back to the question, "Is Omega Force sensitive?"
The answer is, "yes", she is sensitive to the Force due to her elevated m-count. We've seen this all along. Hunter most likely is, too, and maybe some of the other Bad Batchers, to varying degrees. Tech could riot race, which takes incredible reflexes. Hemlock said that Crosshair didn't have a high m-count, and we don't know where Wrecker's abilities stem from. Omega can't wield the Force because she is untrained, but the potential is there. A person's aptitude to wield the Force seems to be strongly correlated to their m-count, but we've seen others with low aptitude eventually open the door to the Force with years of training and a decent dose of impending doom (we see this clearly with Sabine in Ahsoka, but it was also a topic in Legends).
Omega being Force sensitive doesn't mean that she has to leave her brothers. She can choose to pursue her training or not. She'd also have to find someone willing to train her. I'm not convinced Ventress is looking to take on any apprentices at the moment, but she could possibly connect Omega to Quinlan Voss (imagine the trouble those two would get up to).
But I don't think Omega will choose that path. One, it would just make her a bigger target. Two, I don't see her prioritizing power over family. She's a clone, and clones are ALL about family. They're Mando coded, not Jedi coded. Screw the space Buddhist lifestyle - clones parade their attachments around like trophies. Omega goes around collecting attachments like most kids collect rocks..."Hello, stranger trying to kill me, let's be besties."
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strangersmunsons · 3 days
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Eddie goes shopping with you. eddie munson x gn!reader, ~900 words
“Okay, now what do you think of this?” You hold out a crisp white button-down shirt.
“I think that’s great,” he says automatically. 
“Eddie,” you sigh impatiently, “you’ve said that about every article of clothing we’ve seen today. I need like, an actual opinion.”
“That is an actual opinion.” He sounds offended that you might suggest otherwise.
“C’mon, I’m trying to look professional! You gotta help me.”
“I am helping!” Eddie holds up both arms to emphasize his point — he’s laden with bags from the stores you hit earlier in your shopping venture, weighed down with the new clothes you’re purchasing so as to better look the part for your new job.
A small giggle escapes you in spite of your exasperation. “I told you you don’t have to carry any of those,” you remind him, folding your arms across your chest.
Eddie scoffs. “And what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you haul this crap around all day?” He shakes his head, dark curls tumbling about his soft face. “No way. Wayne raised me right, thank you.”
“Well, that he certainly did,” you admit, a rush of affection warming your chest. Unable to help yourself, you reach out and pinch his little cheek between your thumb and index finger.
He pouts at the gesture, pretending to be annoyed; but really, a thrill shoots through him at the brief moment of contact. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for you to be touching him always. 
But it’s not like that. Not for you two.
Eddie tells himself that it’s okay, that he’s accepted it, he’ll content himself with daydreams and fantasies as he always has —
“Do you think black looks classier, though?” You’ve turned back to face the clothing rack again, thoughtfully fingering the silky fabric of a dark shirtsleeve. Your eyes narrow. “Or is it almost too formal?”
Eddie blinks dazedly, then shrugs. “I dunno. I wear black all the time, no one’s ever put me up for best dressed.” He frowns. “I suppose it’s a little different when it’s a Metallica t-shirt, though.”
You poke him playfully. “Or ripped jeans.”
Eddie swats your hand away, heart leaping.
You snicker in response, then soften. “For the record, I do like the way you dress. It goes with your whole thing, y’know?” You motion towards him vaguely, hands waving up and down his figure.
“My thing?”
“Mmhmm,” you hum. “The hair, the attitude, the music. Even your name. The whole thing.”
“What does my name have to do with any of that stuff?”
You shift your weight from foot to foot as you think about how to word your answer, tongue poking ever so slightly out of your mouth — an unconscious imitation of the face Eddie often makes when he’s focusing. He swoons a little when he realizes that you’re picking up some of his habits.
“I mean, if I didn’t know who you were, and someone told me to pick out the guy named Eddie Munson from a crowd of a hundred people, I could do it like that,” you tell him, snapping your fingers on the last word. “No one has ever looked more like they should be named Eddie Munson than you.” Your eyes cut over to his. “Does that make sense?”
Bewildered, Eddie’s eyebrows have shot up so high they’ve all but disappeared under his bangs. “…kind…of?”
You pat his shoulder, amused. “Don’t worry about it. Just look at the shirt.”
Obediently, his gaze flits back to the top. You smile expectantly, and he works to offer some sincere judgment. 
“Um, it looks comfier than the white one? Not as starchy.”
You nod sagely. “True.” You examine it more closely, a flicker of uncertainty clouding your features. “Do you think it’d look okay on me?”
Of course he does. He thinks you look nice in everything. In your pajamas, in your dressiest formalwear — it doesn’t matter. He never wants to hold you any less. To him, you’ve always the most beautiful person in the world. Whatever you happen to put on your body is irrelevant.
But this is the whole point of him accompanying you; he practically begged for you to let him tag along, swearing that it would be fun and that he’d help you. You’d been a smidge embarrassed at first, certain he’d grow impatient with your indecisiveness and bored with the constant vanishing into dressing rooms, but you seem comfortable now, letting him tote your bags around and asking for his advice. He hopes you’ll take him again next time, and then the next time, and then again after that…
“Yes, I do. I think you’d look really wonderful,” he finally answers. “You look incredible in everything you wear. Honest. You don’t need to worry about anything you buy today.”
Your eyes shine, a bashful smile spreading across your lips. “Really?”
“Of course,” he replies, face reddening. “You — you could wear a potato sack and make it look good, frankly.”
You laugh. “Yes, I’m sure that would be very flattering on me.”
“Hey, I think you could rock it.” He knows you think he’s teasing you, but he means it. And he’ll tell you again, and again, and again, until you believe him.
He’s got nothing but time.
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henderdads · 15 hours
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Steve always gets the mail. It’s become a habit at this point where he stops by the mailbox as soon as he gets home before going inside.
Today isn’t any different, though the small box he finds among the pile of bills, ads, and letters from the kids does raise some suspicion.
It’s addressed to Eddie and Steve has a feeling he knows exactly what’s inside of it.
Of course they’d talked about it. Several times. It was something they both wanted and Steve had agreed to let Eddie be the one to ask. Though he definitely wouldn’t mind proposing himself.
The thing is Eddie had gone out of his way to customize a ring for him so Steve knew to stay out of his way.
Which brings him to this box that was in their mailbox.
He wants to open it.
Technically he could get away with peeking and putting the box back together to make it look untouched before Eddie gets back from work.
He decides to call Robin instead, fidgeting with the cord as it rings.
“Hello?”
“Robs what do I do?”
“Hello to you too, dingus.”
“I’m serious. Eddie’s not home and I think my ring just got here. What do I do?”
“Oh my god! It’s here? That was way faster than I thought it would be!”
“Not helping! What do I do?!”
“I don’t know! Put it back in the mailbox?”
“I get the mail every day. He’d know something is off.”
“Open it?”
“Really?” Steve asks, unamused.
“What?! Just take a peek and describe it to me.”
“You’re a terrible influence on me.”
“So does that mean you’re going to?”
Steve rolls his eyes as he holds back a laugh. “Okay. I’m going to peek.”
Robin squeals on the other end as Steve makes his way to the counter, pulling a knife out to carefully cut the tape to open the box.
He pulls out the small black box that the ring is actually in, letting out a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding in.
“Holy shit.”
“Tell me what it looks like!”
“Rob it’s…” he stops as he takes it in. It’s a sleek silver with their initials carved into the inside of the ring.
He hears their garage open then, signaling that Eddie’s home earlier than expected.
“Shit. He’s home early. I’ve gotta go. I’ll call later. It’s incredible! I’ll- I’ll talk to you later.”
He hurriedly hangs up the phone, shoving the ring back into the box and taping the box back together.
“Steve? I’m home, baby.”
Steve practically throws the box onto the pile of mail before running to the fridge to figure out what to make for dinner.
“Hey!” He sets the thawed chicken breast on the counter as he grins at his boyfriend. “Just getting started on dinner. Looks like you had a package come in the mail today.” He says nonchalantly, nodding at the pile of mail.
Eddie glances from Steve to the mail, a fond smile spreading across his face as he sees the box with his name on it.
“I think I know what this is!”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Steve asks, acting like he has no clue.
Eddie giggles and closes the space between the two of them, kissing Steve quickly.
“That is none of your business.”
“Well then, wanna help with the salad?” Steve says as they part, kissing Eddie back a little longer this time.
Eddie takes Steve’s hand and squeezes once, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Let me go clean up and I’ll be right in.”
Steve calls out to him as he heads down the hall. “Miss you already!”
Eddie throws his head back as he cackles, turning around to blow him a kiss.
Steve chews his bottom lip, waiting for Eddie to get out of earshot before he runs back to the phone to call Robin again.
As soon as the line connects, Robin starts talking. “Thanks for hanging up on me, dingus.”
“I had no choice.”
“You couldn’t have just, I don’t know? Changed the subject?”
“Okay, fine. But I had to say hi to my boyfriend- soon to be fiancé.”
“I bet he figures out you looked at it.”
“The box looked completely unopened considering how little time I had to put it back together.”
“So tell me. What did it look like?”
“It’s simple. But perfect.” Steve says, biting back a smile.
“God, you two are gonna be even worse once you say yes.”
“I’m a man in love.”
“Disgusting.”
Steve laughs, “Come over this weekend. I’ve gotta put dinner in the oven now.”
“Why just this weekend? What if I wanted to come right now and eat your food?”
“I’ll save you leftovers.”
“I’m kidding. I’ll talk to you later. Go have fun with your man.”
Steve smiles to himself as he hangs up, shifting his focus to preparing the food.
He acts completely innocent oblivious to what was inside the package the entire night and Eddie doesn’t mention it again.
And of course, Steve says yes when Eddie gets down on one knee just a couple weeks later.
He eventually comes clean about knowing when the ring got there.
Eddie already knew.
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somehow-a-human · 1 day
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Deciphering the Angelic Language
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Oh boy, I'm finally tackling a post on this! I haven't seen a ton of discussion about this or progress and I think that's because it's very complicated. I've done a bit of work on it and I'm hoping by sharing here we'll be able to combine our brainpower and make some more progress!
SO! Let's get into it shall we?
Let's start with what we've been told about the Angelic Language:
An SFX team member said that the pillars in heaven "don't translate into words" (so maybe it translates into something like hex? ASCII?)
A speaker at Ineffablecon confirmed that the language "contains meaning and can be decoded"
According to the Chapter 6 VFX Breakdown video, "The creative team broke down the symbols into an alphabet of about 140 runes"
I'm going to start with that last bullet point. An alphabet of about 140 runes, which math-wise narrows down what type of alphabet we might be looking at. Specifically, I think it might point to Consonant/Vowel Pairs, which gives you 126 characters, then add in numbers and punctuation, you've got about 140. That's my best guess anyway.
The next thing i did was look at the Heaven CCTV footage of Gabriel FRAME BY FRAME to analyze the runes on the screen in these scenes. I think this is the best place to start for a number of reasons, first of all, being that the CCTV footage seems to only use a subset of the runes that don't include and modifications like extra dots or ticks. I consider them base runes.
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Secondly, the runes cycle through a lot of changes here so it's a great place to look for patterns, and find patterns I did.
I found 4 sets of runes that cycle sequentially through a repeating pattern. Okay I'm going to do my very best to explain this.
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The above we will call set A
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The above we will call set B
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The above we will call set C
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The above we will call set D
The runes on the CCTV will *almost* always follow the sequence of their set, and when they reach the end of the set, they're marked with one of the following first two sequences below which I'm referring to as "indicator runes" after which they either repeat the same set or a different set.
The only time the runes change in the middle of a sequence is when they're denoted by the third row indicator runes before the change occurs.
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So there does at least seem to be some pattern to the runes, at least when it comes to the ones used in the CCTV footage. These however are only about half of the total number of runes, the other half are derived from these initial ones, and have additional tick marks and dots added to them to add some sort of meaning and differentiation.
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These screen grabs are from the Chapter 6 VFX Breakdown video, and during the lead in to these animations I think I can also say that the language is probably read right to left, as that's the direction the runes scroll in on the screen.
These scenes are also shown with a certain glowing overlay, so I'm wondering if when we can figure the language out, if there is an interesting message here to be read as well.
Anyway! If you have any other info or this has sparked any ideas about the language for you please let me know! I will continue to play with it and update when I have anything of note! :)
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miheartsedthings · 1 day
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dom billy x sub reader. angry sex.
He’s had a fight with Neil and takes his anger out on you as stress relief. Full on rough missionary sex where he breaks the bed. Ofc that doesn’t stop him hehe. some after care at the end please.
Took me a minute to figure out how I wanted to do this, but it finally came through! Hope it's everything you hoped for :)
@billysbot
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Use Me.
NSFW 18+ only. DomBillyX SubbyReader
Warnings: Angry sex, punishment, mean/aggressive Billy, dacryphilia, rough play, degradation/praise kink (a blend).
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Billy can’t seem to ignore calls from his dad and he doesn’t know why. When his name pops up on his phone every instinct in him says to ignore it, yet theres some deeper drive pushing him to follow through. He picks up, and then hates himself for it later. That man has a talent for disguising his cruelty as parental concern and being states away from Hawkins hasn’t changed that. He’ll call every other week to ‘check in’, interrogating Billy about his progress in college or how much he’s making at the garage. What bothers him most is when his dad inquires about you. 
“That girl still putting up with you?” or “Sure you didn’t drug her?” and sometimes, “What do you two even do together? Paint each other’s toenails?” 
All of this is accompanied by laughter, playing it off as a joke until Billy shows it bothers him. At which point Neil turns reprimanding. 
“So damn emotional. Did I not teach you well enough how to be a man?” 
Be a man. 
Billy’s told you about growing up under that command and how impossible it was. Neil didn’t want his son to be a man. He didn’t want a loyal, intelligent, passionate kid. The kid he had. He wanted a pet. Someone he could direct and who would follow orders. Take a kick from time to time and never complain, never fight back, only bend further and further. It was impossible to be this without filling up with some poison. Tidal waves of anger and despair. Billy had felt all of it throughout his life and now he’s away. He’s far from Hawkins and his dad but he’s still carrying it around. His weather follows him, storm clouds erupting above his head when Neil calls. Why the fuck does he answer? 
He started the morning with one of these calls and like no other time it’s filled him with so much fury. His anger persisted through the day, making work drag on. Even his workout was intense as he strained his body, full of indignation. He came home still swelled with anger, his mind rolling over questions that were infuriatingly hard to answer. Why did it still matter what his dad thought of him? Why does he care so much when he makes jokes about you? Why does he answer? Why can’t he stop feeling like a failure no matter what he accomplishes? No matter how often you tell him you love him why can’t he stop wondering when you’re gonna leave? Why can’t he truly trust anyone? 
He comes home, sweaty, and miserable, anger seeping from his pores. He doesn’t look at you when he walks into the little apartment. 
“Hey,” you call from the kitchen where you’re leaning against the counter flipping through recipes on your phone. 
“Hey,” he mumbles and disappears into the bedroom, his gym bag on his shoulder. Instantly, the air is tense. You’ve been around Billy long enough to know when he’s close to erupting. You pad over to the bedroom, leaning against the doorjam. His face is red and tight, eyes dark as he strips from his musty gym stuff. He still won’t look at you. 
“I’m thinking about salmon for dinner but I don’t know.” 
He doesn’t respond, tossing his clothes toward the hamper but not in it. You cross the room and correct this. 
“We could order out–”
“I don’t care.” 
His tone is careless and heavy with warning as he marches naked into the bathroom. Your eyes slip down to watch his beautiful asscheeks as he goes. Then the door shuts, cutting off your view. You hear the shower turn on and plop down on the bed, hearing the old frame creak. You’re not sure what’s got him upset this time, but you’d hoped going to the gym would fix it because you’ve been missing his body all day and it’s killing you. If you were allowed to touch yourself when he wasn’t around, you would’ve played with your toys while he was working out. It would’ve been so nice to fill yourself, fucking your cunt with the dildo he’d gotten you for Christmas, imagining it was him. You catch yourself rubbing your thighs together, your lips so wet they slip against each other. 
You lay back and pull up your skirt and your hand goes to your panties for just a moment. Just one squeeze of your clit between your middle and ring fingers, making it pulse. A soft sound escapes and you snatch your hand away, pulling down your skirt. It doesn’t matter how bad you want it, rules are rules and you have to be good. You get up and cross to the mirror on the dresser. Maybe it’s not so unfortunate that he’s mad tonight. He’ll need a release for all that aggression.  
You change into a dress you know he loves on you. The one you’re not allowed to wear out because it hugs you so well, showing off your cleavage and riding up when you walk. Once dressed, you pluck a book you’ve read a dozen times from the shelf and lay on your stomach on the bed, ass facing the bathroom door. You consider taking off your panties, but he likes peeling them off himself. So you lay there, unable to see a single word on the page because all you can visualize is him diving face-first into your pussy. 
He’d eaten you for a solid hour a week before, slow and sloppy while you lay there melting into his mouth again and again. The memory sends a shiver through you. Then, you remember just the other night, you’d aced a an exam he helped you study for and your reward had been getting filled from behind while a vibrating buttplug pulsed in your ass. You came so hard it made you cry. God, you want that again. Behind you, the shower turns off, and your stomach flutters with anticipation. You stop your wiggling hips, sometimes they move on their own but right now you have to be patient.  
The bathroom door opens and you jolt, staring uncomprehendingly at the book in your hand. You hear Billy stop in the doorway, feel his eyes on you, giving you goosebumps. The silence feels like a living thing. It breathes between you and hardly leaves room for your shallow inhales. He moves, and his towel is flung across the bed beside you, flustering your nerves again. 
“What’cha doin?” 
His tone hasn’t softened a bit, and when you look back at him, you’re met with the same cold expression. If anything, his anger has set in further. His brows are a hard line above his darkened eyes, his jaw set. He looks at you, completely unamused and you’re nervous for a moment that you won’t pull this off. Then, your confidence returns, you raise your brows, your face relaxed into perfect innocence. 
“Me?” you ask, your voice kitten soft, “I thought I’d read a little before making dinner.” 
While you speak, you slowly move back onto your knees, your ass poking up for a moment before you sit up, your legs folded under you and sitting on your heels. The perfect little princess pose. Your gaze moves down his chest, eager to see the rest of his naked body, but he grabs your chin, lording over you. 
“Uh uh, eyes up here,” he says. You look up at him, and you know he can see the desire in your eyes. He shakes his head. “You don’t want this right now, angel.” 
His warning makes you salivate. 
“Of course I do.” you say with complete sincerity “Fuck it all out.” 
A thrill pulses down into his groin. He glares. 
“I’m gonna hurt you.” 
“Please.”
He scoffs. 
“Really, baby?” 
You nod, your mind full of fantazises, his cock driving into you, your eyes spilling over with tears, his strong arms forcing you into a hold while he cums on your face or in your ass or- he yanks you out of your thoughts and off the bed. 
“Fuck-so fuckin dumb, you sweet little idiot-get on your knees.” 
You obey, dropping to your knees, back in Princess Position. Finally allowed to look, your eyes are filled with his beautiful dick as he strokes it in your face. Your mouth falls open before he can ask, your tongue lulling out to eagerly flick at the drops of precum seeping from the tip. He grabs a fistful of your hair, sharply yanking you back. 
“Did I say you could taste it yet?” you shake your head. “Huh?” 
“No.” He smacks you quickly across the cheek. “No, sir.” you say, nearly panting from excitement. Your brain goes foggy as you watch him stroke himself. He lifts up his shaft, pushing your face underneath. Instinctively, you gently suck one of his balls into your mouth. 
“There,” he groans. “That’s what you get until you earn my cock.” 
You accept this, setting to work messaging his balls with your mouth, one and then the other, making him groan each time you envelope one of them. Your hands are crossed behind your back, and you know if you move them he’ll punish you, but you want so badly to get a hand around the base of his balls while you suck them. You moan at the thought, and the feeling of his nutsack on your face. 
He pulls your head back and you open your mouth just in time for him to roughly shove his dick down your throat. 
“Fuck,” he groans, pushing your head onto it with both hands. You squirm as it meets the back of your throat and he starts fucking your face harder than you were prepared for. Your throat fills with thick spit, your eyes already stinging. “You’re such a good slut, baby,” he says “Dumb. Fucking. Princess.” 
With those three words he thrusts his cock into the back of your throat three sharp times and on the last time you gag, your throat starting to hurt.
“Ohhh,” he chuckles darkly, then pulls your head back just long enough to stick his fingers down your throat, collect a gooey spread of saliva and slap it across your face, rubbing it over your lips before ramming himself back in. He helps guide your head as you take his length, the sound of his cock churning your throat mixes with his gruff moans. You can't help wiggling, finding friction grinding against your heel. You moan as you work your clit against your heel, your panties so wet they're stuck to you. 
He yanks out his dick and bends to bring his dark eyes level with yours, glaring.
“Are you fucking yourself without my permission?” 
You shake your head. You didn't think it was possible for his expression to harden any more, but it does, and his grip on your hair tightens.  
“You're picking the wrong time to disobey me.”
He commands you to move your heels out to the sides so you're no longer able to sit on them. Then, he reaches down and yanks up the front of your thong, making you yelp as your sensitive pussy is instantly in pain. 
“Hold this.” 
Your hand takes up the thong, now pulled taut up to your belly button, so tight you feel every pulse of blood to your already aching clit. He reaches down and smacks it, making you jolt and yelp again. 
“Don't you move.” 
You nod, and then he's back in your mouth. He slams himself in until your lips are flush against him and then fucks your throat. Spit dribbles from your chin and you struggle to breath as he stuffs your mouth over and over. You can't stop feeling the ach in your clit, screaming for release from the tension of your panties. Billy uses your throat like a stress reliever, unrelenting in the way he pounds into it, his head falling back in pleasure. Your eyes travel up, admiring the rolling mounds of muscle along his body. His strong, arms and chiseled shoulders, all the way up to his throat, where his Adam’s apple is on display, God, you sometimes fantasize about rubbing your clit around that perfect bone. 
Your jaw burns, and your eyes water, clouding your vision. Your mouth is just a hot, softened hole for him to play with. He looks down at you, admiring the empty look in your eye. Meanwhile, your legs are falling asleep. 
“There she is, my favorite little dummy, finally being good for me.” 
A rush of pleasure pulses harshly through your tortured cunt and tears finally spill down your cheeks from the roaming flushes of pain in your body. Billy gives you a few more merciless thrusts before pulling your head back, leaving you slack jawed and panting, drool slicked down your chin. 
“Get up,” he says, grabbing you by the arm he forces you to bend over. You know better than to let go of your panties or move your other arm from behind your back, so you land face first in the duvet while he runs a finger along your horribly tender pussy. 
“Looks like it hurts.” He says, a sadistic thrill in his voice. 
“Yes sir,” you whimper. You don't see the little smile on his face when you say that. 
“Let me help.” 
You think he's going to say you can let go, instead he smacks your ass so hard it genuinely scares you, forcing you to cry out in pain and surprise. The sting is still bright when he does it again and then a third time, drawing pained whimpers every time. You bury your face into the duvet. 
“Better, yeah?” 
You don't answer, and he's not really asking. He shoves two fingers in your pussy, a bittersweet rush of pleasure bumps against your tortured clit. He moans at the feeling of your pussy gripping his fingers. 
“So greedy for me.” 
He grabs you, tossing you on your back so roughly the bed frame creaks again. You quickly correct your hand, pulling it from behind you and placing it on your belly, where he likes it. Your eyes still teary, you're praying he releases your clit, but be doesn't. Instead, he kneels on the ground, a cruel grin taking over his features as he places his hot mouth over the cloth choking your pussy. It's so close to being pleasurable, so close to the thing you want that it actually makes you start whimpering. 
“Please,” you whine, earning a rough slap against your clit, making you cringe in pain. 
“Did I say you could speak?” 
You shake your head. 
“No, sir.” 
“I didn't think so.” He shakes his head “I'm really trying to be nice to you, baby.” 
He grabs you and repositions you on the bed, getting between your legs. Your mind fills with pleading for him, your desperation clear on your face as you impatiently watch him stroke his cock just outside your entrance. 
“Hold that leg back,” he commands and you use your free hand to obey, holding your leg behind the knee while he pushes down the other one, lining up with your cunt. Please, please. But your hopes are dashed when he pulls your panties aside just enough to push his cock in, but not enough to end your suffering. A little sob leaks out as his thick length fills you. 
“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes rolling closed. “Such a perfect pussy.” 
His cock fills you, adding internal pressure to the strain against your clit. His hand comes down over your throat as he picks up speed, staring you right in the eye as he drills into you harder and harder until every smack stings your ass. He fucks you like he hates you and all you can do is take it, tears streaking down your cheeks. Pained little sobs blend with moans as your body is overwhelmed with conflicting tides. Meanwhile, Billy is in pure bliss. His cock stretches your pussy just enough, filling you so much you're kind of amazed you can take all of him inside. 
He grabs the hand holding your panties and gives it a yank, forcing you to yelp in pain, a fresh crop of tears start falling and at the sight of it Billy moans again, keeping up his punishing rhythm. He pounds you into the bed, and after one particularly hard thrust you feel one of the support beams snap underneath you. For the first time all day, you see Billy smile. His hand goes to your panties again and you flinch, bracing for the pain. 
“Want these off?” 
You nod rapidly. 
“Yes, sir. Please.” 
 “So polite, what a sweet little whore you are.” 
He slips your panties off and the relief that washes over you is so immense you start to cry as he gets back to fucking you. 
“Fuck,” you whimper out, unable to help yourself. The contrast is so incredible, and your clit is so sensitive that every brush against his pelvis makes your body shiver. Billy zeros in on this and asks you to touch yourself while he fucks you, your other hand still holding back your leg. All you can handle are slow swirls on your clit, but it's enough to make the shivers roaming your body constant and heavy. 
Your eyes go unfocused as you get lost in the feeling of him fucking into you over and over. It feels so fucking perfect it makes you sob. 
“Baby,” the word dribbles out against your will and his mouth comes down over yours. He's so good to you, helping you keep quiet because he knows you can't help it. He's so thoughtful. Your breath catches as your stomach drops and you feel yourself getting close. A nervous moan purrs onto his tongue while your pussy is slowly turning to liquid gold. 
“Yeah,” he coos against your lips, “Cum on my cock, cum like a slut.” 
Your pussy walls squeeze around him while your whole body thrums from the inside out, humming like a rung bell. You can't help the tears and the babbling words falling out of your shaky lips as you ride the delicious fullness of this feeling. His hand moves to the back of your neck, still roughly fucking you until his orgasm forces him out of rhythm. 
“Fuck,” he pants “fuck, I love my perfect slut.” 
Those words and his perfect cock are enough to set you off again, your eyes rolling back as he drills you into oblivion for the second time. He pumps thick, hot cum into you, coating you inside and then keeps going, groaning loudly. He kisses your forehead, your brain bleary. Your lower body hardly feels like it exists anymore, all you can feel is a luxurious pleasure and all you can see are his gorgeous blue eyes.
Fuck. This is all you need in life. 
Finally, his hips slow to a stop and the two of you are left panting. The weight of his warm body slowly sinks onto you as he breathes onto your chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him. 
He kisses your neck. 
“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft and low. You nod. 
“Are you?” 
His arms wrap around you. 
“I needed that so much, baby.” 
You push your hand into his hair, gently stroking his scalp. 
“What had you so upset, lovey?” 
He snuggles into you, still buried inside you as his body recovers. He groans. 
“Fuck it. C’mere.” 
The two of you make your way into the bathroom where he joins you in a shower. You take your time together, washing each other and taking long breaks to mingle tongues in the gathering steam. His hands are so gentle as they move across your body. So different from the way he was in bed, as a living ball of anger. You lean your head against his shoulder, trying to keep your hair dry but at the same time not caring. 
Later, in warmth and the soft leftover smell of your bodies on the sheets, he pulls you into his lap. He takes your hand into his own, his fingers running along your palm as you lay against him, hearing the rhythm of his breathing. 
“Why do I answer?” 
You’re nearly asleep when he asks this to no one, and your eyes flutter open to find the room growing dark. You can hardly see him in the fading light. Maybe that’s what he wants. In any case, he keeps his eyes down at your hands. You know instantly what he means.
“I don’t know,” you say, “There’s probably plenty of reasons.” 
You turn, touching a hand to his cheek and kissing the other one, your lips trail down to his neck where you nuzzle in, amazed, as you always are, by the warmth he collects inside himself. 
“Fuckin stupid thing to do.” He whispers. 
“It’s not stupid.” you say, softly, your fingers slipping up to play with the hair behind his ear. “It’s just more than he deserves. He’s your dad, so there’s supposed to be something to gain from answering his calls. But he’s a failure, so it’s just bullshit every time.” you yawn, “You’re not stupid, lovey. You’re just too generous.” 
He turns, finding your mouth and enveloping it into a slow, lazy kiss as you lounge on the broken bed. His tongue is soft and salty. 
“Hmm,” you hum as the kiss gives way, “I love you, too.”
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xoxo~
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drdemonprince · 1 day
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What if your unmasked self is unacceptable even to other autistics? I feel like if I don't carefully curate myself I'm too weird and annoying to sustain friendships even with other weirdos. This thing where unmasking makes people like you more because it's more ~authentic~ just hasn't been true for me and it makes me really sad.
Well, what does "weird" and "annoying" mean in this case? In unmaskers I frequently see a lot of understandable social trauma playing out in, let's just say, not the most socially effective of ways at times. No longer mindreading and people pleasing and fawning is all to the good; becoming completely unfiltered while still harboring a ton of deep-seated fear of abandonment and then spilling it out all over people will understandably drive them away. No longer faking emotions and tone of voice preserves energy and helps us feel more genuine, but never putting any energy into trying to understand a friend's interests or emotions will kill a friendship.
There is a messy counterbalancing that has to occur for many unmaskers; at first we focus on never doing anything false and allowing our unbridled selves to roam free -- and then we often recognize that we will need certain self-advocacy, listening, communication, and even diplomacy skills to actually relate to other people, even while remaining true to who we are.
It's normal for the unmasking process to initially seem like it's making you harder to love, more annoying, more bizzaree -- that's a necessary corrective to having previously aimed to make yourself unremarkable or widely liked.
But if you find yourself repeatedly socially alienating even out and proud neurodivergent people, it may be worth asking whether you are taking actions that are pushing them away. Things like interrupting people when they are trying to open up to you, invalidating their feelings, seeking reassurances that no other person can provide, not interacting, self-victimizing, just generally hurtful interpersonal stuff that us traumatized folks sometimes do even in community with one another. If this is the case, you will have to work on accepting the feedback when people are kind enough to tell you that you're bothering them or disrespecting them -- it is not the end of the world, it is a habit you can notice and correct.
Or you might just still be withdrawing and inhibiting very hard, and doing self-protective things that convey to others that they should give you a wide berth. Lots of unmaskers give off really strong "dont talk to me dont come up to me i feel socially unsafe right now" vibes that are completely honest and authentic to where they are at the moment, even if they wish they could seem more welcoming. Please give yourself some grace to feel all that if that's what it is.
No one is too weird or too annoying to make friends. But you might need to find the people who are weird enough and mad enough and disabled enough for you. Alternatively, you might have some interpersonal baggage that affects how you treat others you still need to work on. Or your internalized disability stigma might just be telling you that youre being too much when youre barely taking up social space at all.
You know your pattern of experiences and the feedback others have given you, so hopefully you can sort out what is currently missing in your social life based on that and some reflection and more testing. Good luck and let me know what you figure out.
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"Could you hold me for a bit?"
Spencer Reid x GN!Reader angst to fluff
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! Set after Season 2 EP 15 !
About: angst to fluff, no pronouns used, Criminal minds spoilers
You weren't the type to go to bed very early, contrasting your coworkers, most specifically Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer went to sleep early on the rare occasions he didn't have work, even then sleeping on the plane rides back no matter the length. Point is, Spencer was not one to interrupt his quote-on-quote "beauty sleep", as Derek liked calling it, so seeing him on your doorstep late at night was certainly a surprise.
"Hey I'm really sorry-" Spencer whispered, red in the face from both tears and anxiety, with his hands fidgeting close to his torso "I just needed to be with someone and I just figured- I mean I guess you were the first person that came to mind"
You moved aside from the door, a hint Spencer immediately took by walking into the house.
"Thank you, I know it's late but-" he paused, being met with the confusion on your face he continued, "It's kind of a stupid reason."
"I'm sure it's not as stupid as you make it out to be." You assured him as you locked the door and led him to your living room couch. "What's bothering you Spence?" You ask as you sit, patting the spot to your right, gesturing him to sit down, of which he does.
"It was a nightmare, most likely trauma induced, it's weird we see all sorts of horrible things at the BAU but this one thing- I don't know- it just kinda stuck." Spencer's eyes were fixed on his hands twisting and turning into each other on his lap.
"What was it?"
"You remember when I was kidnapped? With Tobias, his dad, and Raphael? I don't know- I just can't get that stuff out of my head- no matter how hard I try it just keeps coming back." He paused, "It was so real, like I was back in that chair- back in that shed- back in that graveyard-"
"Hey-" you cut him off, "you don't need to think about that now ok? You're here and you are safe, that's all that matters."
Spencer met you with silence, poorly hiding his appreciative smile. "I know this might seem weird but could you hold me for a bit? Just till I go back to sleep?"
You immediately followed his request, laying down on the couch with him soon after, placing his head on your chest and curling into a loose ball. Rubbing your hand in circles on his back you watch as the serious doctor unravels into your touch, slowly drifting to sleep.
(sorry if this kinda sucks I'm on the aromantic spectrum and have never written anything like this :p)
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tiyoin · 1 day
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So I personally like to imagine that their eyesight is kinda poor. Mainly because it’s darker under water than above, yknow? But their other senses like hearing and smell are twice as good. What do you think? (I wanted to tell someone but I didn’t know who but I love your version of them so I figured why not!)
i’ve been hoarding this post like a dragon for far too long
AND TYSM FOR SHARING WITH ME!!! I LOVE IT MEAH MWAH
i immediately thought of them waking up at butt fuck whenever because you accidentally woke them up when you were going to use the bathroom. and they try to look for you but because of the darkness of the room, them literally just waking up, and their shitty human eyes-
EEP!! them reaching over for you but all they’re met with is a warm, empty comforter 😿😿
i wasss gonna make that into another post but i couldn’t think of anything else and really liked it 🙈
i immediately thought of them waking up at butt fuck whenever because you accidentally woke them up when you were going to use the bathroom
EEP!! them reaching over for you but all they’re met with is a warm, empty comforter 😿😿
i’m imaging floyd sleeping star fish (you were originally curled in at his side) and he’s all moany groany cause 1. you woke him up 2. YOURE NOT WHERE YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE- GET YO ASS OVER HERE
i can imagine him bleary eyed waking up and squinting, trying to look for you through the crusties in his eyes- but that doesn’t work because all he sees is nothing. at most he sees a horribly mangled mosaic of blues on the wall that would normally make anyone nauseous. but to the eel, it felt just like home.
JVIALELF IMAGINE HIM SHOOTING UP WHEN HE SEES YOU CAUSE HE DOESNT RECOGNIZE YOU THROUGH HIS SLEEPY HAZE BAHAHS. all it takes is a little ‘floyd?’ for him to chillax and sink back into bed. groaning about… whatever.
you can faintly hear a ‘what time is it’ from your boyfriend, his voice a lower timbre than his usual higher crow. you laugh softly, clearing you throat gently as you give him some made up time. it seems to satiate the male though as he slowly sinks back down into messy covers.
one hand raises to cover his eyes and his other hand slowly raises like the dead until your warm human flesh meets his cold merman hand, prompting him to you back into bed. where you belong this time he’ll make sure you don’t escape 😉
and the LOML JADEEE
he definitely starts off all prim and proper when sleeping. you know the saying ‘snug like a bug in a rug?’ that’s jade (i want him to wear a sleep cap but i don’t think he does unfortunately 😔)
i can imagine jade slowly shifting his position to sleeping on his stomach. some how he still manages to keep a tight grip on you like a handlebar in a roller coaster, so it takes some squirming to get out of the eel’s iron clad grip.
but nonetheless you quietly patter over to the bathroom
oh boy goes jade have a mean look on his face cause 1. never wake a sleeping eel, especially jade and 2. whys the bed exactly ___ pounds lighter 🤨
i think jade is more of a light sleeper than floyd so the moment the door to his dorm closes he’s peeling his golden eye open while softly kicking his leg (phantom movement cause he was trying to kick his tail 🙈)
i can imagine jade actually growling when he realizes you’re not there. refusing to get up, jade turns his head towards the door as he tries to make out the shapes of his room. but to no luck cause everything is just pitch black.
he’s waiting, sinking himself in deeper to the bed as he opens his other eye. just in time, the door creaks open and the light from the hallways splits through the opened door.
softly, you tip toe in and close the door.
alls fine and well until your in arms length of the bed, silently celebrating on not waking up your boyfriend until a cold, deathly hand seizes your shoulder and drags you into the cavern of blankets and pillows.
jades now on his side glaring,,, squinting? as he puts an arm around you with a low throaty grunt. once your nestled in his arms to his exact liking, the eel will slip back to sleep- he’s a liar, i’m a liar.
both of the twins don’t fall asleep immediately. even though they’re both blind as a bat they’re listening. listening to the slowing of your breathe with their grey eye peeled open.
they’re feeling the once rapid fire of your heart even out into a steady rhythm of beats.
it’s not until you’re dead asleep do they both shift your position slowly, lazily onto their chest. legs intertwined with yours and strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like a child hugging a stuffed animal, afraid of the deep shadows that linger in the corners of their room.
not until they’re certain you’re not getting up and out of their poor eyesight do their muscle relax and bodies sink into the mattress, ready to slip off into dream land with their little shrimpy🤭
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taylor-titmouse · 15 hours
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Julia is sick of working late. She's sick of being disrespected, and most of all she's sick of her boss. Lance is a burned out, smooth-talking playboy, but he also happens to be the son of the CEO.  When Lance pushes her buttons once too often, Julia is tempted to put him in his place – but is it worth throwing away her career for a moment of satisfaction? Content: -F/M -dom -degradation -small penis humiliation -directed masturbation -power play 5k words,  EPUB and PDF format Only $3, Releases later tonight! you can go read the first two pages on the shop page!
i've mentioned a couple times now that my editor and the author of roger crenshaw: the dogs at duskfall @mortalityplays is now available for freelance work for people other than me, but i don't think i've made as big of a deal how he's ALSO going to start releasing his own smut shorts on the last friday of every month! he is SUCH a talented writer on top of being an excellent editor and it's my absolute delight to work with him on the cover for his first release. FINALLY i have a great answer when asked "is there anyone else writing smut like you?"
and since this was the first time in a while i went through a cover design process that wasn't just me making one for myself, i thought i would go into how it went!
The Prompt
R/L wanted something that didn't visually describe the characters, because he had deliberately avoided that himself in the text. these characters are archetypes, ideas of characters: a woman who works in an office and her playboy burnout boss. for an erotic fantasy scenario, not going into detail can be ideal, as it allows the reader to project their own fantasies onto the characters. but what does that mean for a cover, when showing off the characters is often the point?
The Thumbnails
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it means silhouettes, babie! if you're a reader of romance you've probably seen this approach a few times. silhouettes allow you to give the impression of a character without actually specifying them. HOWEVER! that can only go so far. note the female silhouettes in the left and right thumbnails--one with a pony tail, one with her hair down. these two very minor design elements say completely different things about the character, and pin her design down into something specific. (there is a whole line of feminist thought about this, that there is no such thing as an "unmarked" woman, or rather a woman whose presentation does not say something about her, ie a woman not wearing makeup is not perceived as neutral the way a man not wearing makeup is).
so anyway including her in the cover in full doesn't work for the prompt, because how she wears her hair or how she dresses would say something about her that we don't want to say. thus: we chose the middle design!
a man in a shirt and tie are super archetypal, and """neutral""" enough to not say anything specific about lance, our male protagonist, other than he has a job and is of average size (which are of course not technically truly neutral, but for our purposes, are functional as symbols). and while a long, narrow, leg does still say something about julia, it is abstracted enough to simply represent the concept of "woman" without projecting an overall image of her in the reader's head. she has a leg, and she wears high heels. that's all you get!
The Sketch
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now we can move on to the sketch stage! this is the point at which the palette and text are figured out. i tried a few fonts before landing on one that had the retro paperback all-caps feel that i liked, and i used what i believe to have been a risograph print texture from retrosupply.
we went with the text up top rather than at the bottom, because it lends weight to the shoe and balances out the blacks in the pants. it also allows the figure to take up more of the cover, which is ideal. honestly, not a whole lot to say about this bit that i didn't cover in thumbnails: which is the point of doing thumbnails in the first place!
The Finish
well you can just scroll up to see that one. the final colors ended up a little less saturated, a little cooler, to bring it home to the retro paperback look i was going for and tie the colors together. i'm very pleased with it and had a lot of fun. cover design is one of my favorite parts of putting out books, and it was especially fun working with someone else to bring their vision to life.
anyway, you should go buy this book! it's only three dollars and i want to make more covers for these! your purchases would prove that i am a very good investment as a cover artist >:)
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lovelornanonymity · 2 days
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proclivity — part four — saviour complex
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↳PAIRING: rafe cameron x diabetic fem!reader
↳[4.9k] SUMMARY: at one point in time Rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?
↳ WARNINGS: mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, etc.
↳A/N: this is a repost from my old blog @illicitfixations. all of my works are being reposted to this one + the previous blog has been deactivated.
back to main masterlist | series masterlist
As you pulled away from the kiss, panting, you searched Rafe’s eyes and only found solace in them. Why did this feel so right? Was it the greenhouse or the beauty of the plants surrounding you, the hues of green in the leaves that towered over your figure? Was it the romance or the pouring rain? You couldn’t put your finger on it and then, his blue eyes bore into yours and you could. It was Rafe. It was the man of your dreams kissing you at the college you’d both attend. You’d dreamed about this moment forever, thinking it would never really come and yet, you had your guard up, wondering when things got tough, if he’d run away again. 
“Rafe-” 
He kissed you passionately again, cutting off your words. 
“Rafe..” 
You placed your hands against his chest, pushing him away.
“What is it, sweet girl?” 
His tone was kind. It stung. You wanted him as close as you could get him, his sweet voice replaying over and over again in your ears forever.  
“I-, w-we can’t do this.” 
“What do you mean?” 
The hurt washed over his face and you immediately regretted the words that left your lips. 
“I’ve wanted this with you forever and-” 
Your words were cut off by Rafe once more, his pleading eyes, begging you not to let the moment end.
“Then, have it with me. I’m right here.” 
Before your brain could register its next move, the words were spewing out of your mouth at an aggressive volume.
“You have a reputation with girls, okay?” 
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He asks, accusingly. Though, the hurt laced in his blue eyes makes your chest tight. 
“It means I can’t be another one of your conquests. I can’t be another girl at a party or in your truck or on your lap in a golf cart if you’re not going to care about me next week.” 
You blurted out without thinking, really. But, you can’t deny the words – you meant them. The truth was, you had been that girl, minus the sex, you’d been his girl and then one day, like whiplash after a car accident, you’d woken up and he was gone. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle that again.  
“Is that what you think of me?” 
His head hung low as he whispered. Before you were able to reply, your thoughts were quickly shoved away when the dinging of your phone erupted from within your backpack that still sat on Rafe’s shoulders. His features softened as yours fell. 
“You feel okay? Is that the tone for your blood sugar?” 
He asks gently. 
“It always does some stupid shit at the worst conceivable time.” 
He could tell you beat yourself about it, your illness. He wondered why, no one could help being sick. Who had made you feel like it was a problem? You looked down at your phone as Rafe handed it to you and realized your blood sugar was fine, you perked up at that. But, mentally cursed at Topper’s contact flashing across your screen. 
“I’m okay, Rafe. Don’t worry. It’s just Top.” 
You gave him a reassuring smile and he returned it. The words from moments ago seemingly forgotten, at least for now. 
“Hello?” 
You asked, clearing the phlegm from your throat. 
“Hey, where are you guys?”
He questioned. 
“We’re in the arboretum.” 
You replied with the hint of a smile. 
“You and that fucking greenhouse, I swear. Okay, well. Let’s get a move on. It’s pouring rain and I’m ready to go home.” 
Topper’s attitude had hurt you more than usual and your smile quickly faltered. 
“O-okay. We’ll be there soon.” 
You spoke into the speaker, trying to keep your voice even as you ended the call. 
“Everything okay?” 
Rafe asked, hesitantly. 
“Yeah, Topper just being Topper. He’s ready to go home because of the rain.” 
You let out a defeated chuckle, eyes tracing to your feet. Rafe had heard what Topper said. You and that fucking greenhouse. Rafe never understood how Topper could be so tone deaf, such a fucking idiot. Why was loving beautiful things so wrong? 
“Okay.” 
Rafe nodded and led you out of the front door of the greenhouse. This time there was no hand on your back or smile from him and you had never craved his warmth so much. There were no words exchanged between the two of you, only your guilt eating away at your core and before you knew it you were back at the Jeep. Rafe didn’t open your door for you and at that revelation, you swallowed thickly and tears lined your eyes. You had ruined your one chance with him. Topper and Kelce were taken aback by the sudden rigidity between you and the Cameron boy, but knew better than to say anything about it. They only assumed the happiness was short lived and you’d go back to hating each other. The car ride was long and agonizing and after two hours of radio silence from Rafe, you were in shambles. So you did what any teenager with no self respect would, you texted him. 
Y: Can we talk? 
R: for what 
Y: i’m sorry 
R: why 
Y: I was mean and you didn’t deserve that, just got scared 
R: scared? Of what? 
Y: you. 
R: why would you be scared of me? 
Y: because I know what kind of hurt your absence can bring. 
He didn’t respond to the last text and you took that as the final nail in the coffin. You had fucked this up. This entire day was perfect until you opened your big fat dumb fucking mouth and now the intimacy, the closeness, the Rafe you had so desperately prayed for was slipping out of your grasp. You could almost cry, but you knew if you started you’d never stop. Brought out of your thoughts by Rafe’s gruff voice, you looked to him as he spoke to Topper. 
“Just go to Y/N’s house instead of mine.” 
Your face fell and you started to spiral, he had taken back his dinner invitation and you could no longer hold in your tears, scared he was going to go away again, this time maybe permanently. You simply couldn’t bear that pain again.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” 
Topper questioned, worry lacing his features as he took in the look on your face. 
“Yeah, m’fine.” 
The tone of your voice made the hair on the back of Rafe’s neck stand up. It was flat, in a broken, numb sort of way. He hadn’t heard you use that tone since the night he took Maggie Mills up to his room after a party. He never understood why that had upset you so much. He looked at you, watching as tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes and you stared at the floorboard of Top’s car. You couldn’t feel anything, numbness over taking your body. He placed his hand on your shoulder, begging you to look at him, but your eyes remained locked on the floor. You couldn’t face him, not now, not after you had ruined things with him, again. You were brought away from the sadness by the ding of your phone. It was Rafe, again. 
R: please tell me what’s wrong 
Y: isn’t it obvious 
R: no, please tell me 
Y: you don’t want me at dinner now. You don’t want me.
R: what? 
Rafe began to put two and two together and visibly winced at the fear he had struck within you. 
R: I just wanted you to have fresh clothes. I’m sorry, I should’ve said that. Please don’t cry, pretty girl. I’d never do that to you. 
You didn’t reply to his message, but he looked on as your body slowly began to relax and reached over, wiping the tears from your cheeks and giving you a subtle smile. You returned it. Rafe had always catered to your anxiety, but he hadn’t been around you in so long, he almost couldn’t recognize it when it overcame you. Topper pulled into your driveway soon after and you were quick to rush inside, slipping into a new dress, adorned with pale pink lilies, and grabbing extra insulin before making your way back out to the jeep and climbing in next to Rafe. You quickly unzipped the bag that sat in between the two of you and shoved the insulin inside and you looked down at your phone, checking your levels one more time. They were still fairly normal, reading at 85 mg. Rafe looked over your shoulder, making sure your levels were okay and he was pleased when he saw they were. He knew it had been a long time since you’d eaten and you needed real food soon. As the sound of Topper’s brakes bringing the car to a halt met your ears, you locked eyes with Rafe who hopped out of the car almost immediately. 
“Well boys, this was fun. I’ll see you two soon.” 
You say with a false cheek. 
“Bye, beautiful.” 
Kelce muttered, dragging out the “L” on his last word. Topper simply nodded his head in your direction, unsure of what was going on between you and Rafe, but too tired to ask questions. By the time you had said your goodbyes to both boys, Rafe had made his way around to the side of the car and opened your door, helping you out with the grasp of his hand. 
“Thanks, Rafe.” 
You whispered, looking at the ground, still too spooked to look him in the eye. 
“No problem, pretty girl.” 
He smiled in response to your gratitude and the both of you made your way into the house. 
“Rafe, is that you?” 
Rose called to him as you both entered the foyer. 
“Yeah, it’s us.” 
He called back to her. She quickly emerged from the kitchen, meeting you both in the huge room, giving her greetings and ushering you over to the table where you were met with your father’s disapproving eyes. 
“Honey! It’s so good to see you. I was wondering where you were all day.” 
Your mother chimed in, walking over to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. 
“Hi, mama. Yeah, Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and I left early this morning to tour UNC. We made it back just in time for dinner.” 
“That’s wonderful, sweet girl! Did you love it?” 
She questioned. 
“Yes. Rafe took me to the greenhouse.” 
You smiled, but it quickly faded as you looked over at him, remembering the events that followed. He didn’t meet your gaze. 
“Rafe! Thank you, that’s been my girl’s dream for quite some time, being in that greenhouse, with you especially.” 
She smiled brightly in his direction and gave him a wink. Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed at your mother’s outburst of too much fucking information. Rafe let out a low chuckle and your brother, Brock, opened his mouth to speak. 
“Hopefully she wasn’t too much trouble for you, today, Rafe.” 
He spoke, his tone demeaning. 
“She’s never any trouble, she’s my best girl.” 
Rafe responded in an even, joking tone, in an attempt to diffuse the situation before his temper got the best of him. His hand made its way to your thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. When did your brother become such a dick and what gave him the right to speak about you like you weren’t in the room? The subject quickly changed as Rose and Ward began asking you and Rafe about the campus and your majors. 
“So, Y/N, what are you thinking of majoring in?” 
Ward questioned. 
“I’d like to go into English with a minor in entrepreneurship. I’d like to take some business classes, too, I think.” 
You responded. 
“That’s wonderful! Business and English are two things that will help you so much in the working world.” 
He replied, truly excited for you. He’s always been one of your favorite adults. 
“Yeah, thank you! I think so too.” 
You replied with a sweet smile. 
“You know, you could always intern at Cameron Development this summer and get some hands on training with Rafe, Brock, and I.” 
He suggested. 
“Thank you, Ward. I seriously would love that!” 
You smiled his way, unsure if you’d take him up on his offer. It would look good on college applications and it would mean more time with Rafe, those were both good things, right? 
“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, y/n. I don’t know that you could handle the workload, what with your condition and all.” 
Brock said quickly with a sneer. You cast your eyes immediately down to where your hands sat in your lap. 
“What about you, Rafe?” 
Your mother questioned him, ignoring your brother. It hurt that they oftentimes bowed down to his asshole nature, not wanting to fight with him. Sometimes you just wanted to feel fought for.  
“Dad and I have been talking about me going to business school and running the company eventually.” 
Rafe replied quietly, still unsure he had heard Brock correctly. Because the guy he knew loved his sister, he wouldn’t be treating you like this, especially not in public. 
“Of course! You’re a smart young man, it’s only fitting. You have a bright future ahead of you.” 
She replied with a cheerful tone. 
“Thank you, that means so much coming from you.” 
He replied with a kind smile. He always loved your mother and her sweet words meant the world to him. The familiar beep of your glucose monitor brought your attention away from the conversation and toward your phone in your lap. Rafe watched you intently, reading the levels over your shoulder. 60mg. ‘That can’t be good’, he thought. 
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” 
He whispered into your ear and you met his eyes. 
“I’m not feeling good, but I’m fine. I need to eat soon or I'll pass out.” 
You responded, reassuring him. Even though you knew your levels were getting dangerously low. 
“How much longer on the food, Rose?” 
Rafe questioned. 
“About 5 minutes.” 
She smiled, letting him know it would be right out. Thirty seconds passed and the alert on your phone beeped loudly once more. You averted your gaze from your brother’s eyes and let out a sigh, but that didn’t stop his mouth from opening. 
“Not this shit again.” 
He spoke, boldly. 
“What did you just say?” 
Rafe’s tone was coated with venom, as he gave your brother a tight lipped smile, urging him to repeat himself, daring him to. 
“I’m just tired of the same shit everyday. She needs sugar, she needs insulin, blah, blah, blah. Everything is always about her.” 
He gritted out. 
“Oh you’re tired of it?! How the fuck do you think she feels?” 
Your father interjected, keeping his voice low, his kind honey-colored eyes becoming dark at Brock’s words. He’s clearly had enough. 
“Well, I’m sorry, this might not be my place. But, I don’t think she’s thrilled about it either and here she is dealing with it. It went off and she sighed, all she did was fucking sigh. She didn’t demand attention from everyone in the room. All she did was fucking sigh and you know what? She’s allowed to do that. She’s allowed to be frustrated about something that is wrong with her body. You could show some fucking compassion.” 
Rafe growled. 
“Rafael Joseph Cameron! Language!” 
Ward spoke Rafe’s full name, his tone laced with warning. 
“What dad?! You can’t let him talk about her like that!” 
He said, exasperatedly. 
“Ward, it’s really okay. He deserves to be bitched at.” 
Your mother spoke, sticking up for Rafe. 
“She’s a type one diabetic, not a fucking drug addict and i’ll be damned if I let you sit here and treat her like one.” 
At Rafe’s words the table fell silent. His father knew what the weight of his words carried, and now, so did you. Luckily for you, Rose served you your food first after the meal was done cooking and your sugar quickly went back up to normal levels, which was a giant relief to Rafe. Most of the dinner was silent after the conversation fizzled out. The words of your father affected you more than you cared to admit, yet not as much as Rafe’s. Rafe stood up for you in a room with two men that scared the shit out of you, all without batting an eye or worrying about a consequence. He stood up to his father for you and you knew you couldn’t just let that go. The conversations quickly became about business and Rafe watched as you mentally checked out, which probed his next question to you.
“Why don’t we go out on the pool, sweet girl?” 
You simply nodded in response, thankful to him for saving you from listening to your brother’s bullshit business plans any longer. Rafe helped you out of your chair and pushed it in behind you, leading you out the patio doors with his large hand placed on the small of your back. You quickly made your way to the pool, taking your shoes off and plunging your feet in as you sat on the edge of where the concrete met the blue lining. 
“You okay?” 
He asked, his cerulean eyes taking in your form. 
“Yeah, I am. Thank you for sticking up for me in there.” 
You gave him your best smile, even though he could see right through it. 
“How long has he been treating you that way?” 
“Since the day I came home from the hospital.” 
You whispered, but Rafe heard you, loud and clear. 
“Can you tell me about it? I mean, what happened when you got sick.” 
You swallowed thickly. Talking about your illness was easy but talking about it with Rafe was just different. He wasn’t there when you got sick and you resented him for it, but you also resented yourself for not giving him the opportunity to be. 
“It happened the Thursday after we stopped talking. I was with Topper, we were at the club, just swinging some golf balls and dicking around. He was with me everyday that week just to make sure I was handling things well and I wasn’t, so I’m glad I had him.” 
You said, with no particular emotion. 
“I’m sorry.” 
He whispered out, hanging his head in shame. 
“You don’t have to apologize Rafe, I’m not here to make you feel guilty. I just-, if I’m gonna tell you what happened, I have to tell the whole story.” 
You replied, trying to reassure him. 
“I know and I want to know everything.” 
He stated with a sheepish smile, nodding his head for you to continue. 
“I told Top I wasn’t feeling good that morning, but I thought it was just because I was hungover and when we went to play golf, I figured I’d be fine. But when we got to the third hole, I noticed that I was kinda nauseous and dizzy and my hands were shaking. I heard Top ask if I was okay before I hit the ground but I couldn’t register anything. Evidently he had called an ambulance because I woke up in the ICU three days later. They said I had a seizure and went into diabetic shock, which is when we found out I had type one.” 
You finished with a swirl of anxiety in your belly. 
“As much as it pains me to say this, I’m thankful you had Top.” 
Rafe smiled into his joke. His distaste for the closeness Topper shared with you had always been prevalent, but especially after the two of you had gone your separate ways. 
“Yeah, the funny thing is, I laid in that hospital bed for days willing myself to call you but I couldn’t do it.” 
You said suddenly. 
“I wish you would have.” 
Your eyes flickered up to meet his immediately. 
“I couldn’t do that to you. You decided you wanted a life without me in it and I respected that even if I didn’t understand it. I never wanted me being sick to be the reason you came back, I wanted you to come back because you wanted to. But it hurt like hell that I had to walk through that without you.” 
Rafe quickly pulled you in and wrapped his large hand around the back of your head, pooling your hair in his hands. He hugged you tightly and suddenly it felt like all the broken pieces of your heart had been mended. 
“I’m so sorry, sweet girl. Please, forgive me.” 
His voice broke as the words stumbled out of his mouth. He felt like there was no air in his lungs and all he knew was that he needed your forgiveness like he needed to breathe. He pulled back, holding you by your shoulders, looking to your eyes for confirmation of the hatred he was sure you felt for him, yet he couldn’t find it. 
“I forgave you a long time ago, Rafael.” 
You spoke softly, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster up. 
“Y/N, I need you to know that I’m never going to leave you again.” 
He said so sure – more sure of anything than he has ever been in his entire life. 
“I appreciate that Rafe and I hope it’s true. It’s just so hard for me to trust that.” 
You replied candidly. 
“I know and I’m going to work everyday to prove to you that you can trust me.” 
He responded, willing to do anything to prove that to you. 
“I hope you do.” 
He nodded, giving you the reassurance you needed. 
“So, uh, where’d you learn to kiss like that?” 
He asked, sheepishly, as he rubbed his hand against the back of his neck - one of his many nervous habits. His voice came out small and awkward and it made you laugh. 
“I don’t know, Cameron. Where did you learn to kiss like that?” 
Your eyes met, as you nudged his shoulder, which made him smile. 
“Lots of practice.” 
He replied and you visibly winced at the words that you had spoken to him earlier. You have a reputation with girls, okay? The hurt that laced his irises when the words left your lips would haunt you forever. 
“Hey, listen, about what I said earlier-” 
You began, but didn’t get to finish. 
“It’s okay, I deserved it.” 
He replied, his head hanging low. You gently lifted his chin, so his eyes met yours.
“You didn’t, not from me.” 
You said, very matter-of-factly. 
“What do you mean?” 
He asked, scrunching his eyebrows together. 
“I mean, I’ve always been your person – the one you tell anything to. It isn’t fair of me to project my shit onto you, so I’m sorry. That’s not what I think of you, Rafe and I need you to know that. I just got scared.” 
You replied, laying your heart directly in his hands. 
“Why are you so scared, sweet girl?” 
He wasn’t trying to pry, he just genuinely didn’t understand what you had to be afraid of, surely it wasn’t him. 
“I just-, I went through some things with JJ.” 
He nodded, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his brain.
“I see. You know you can talk to me, right? I mean – if you want to tell me, ya know, I’m the one you tell.” 
He replied, assurance laced in his blue orbs. 
“Yeah, I do and I will when I’m ready.” 
He nodded, taking your answer as gospel. He knew you’d tell him when you were ready. He quickly changed the subject.
“What days are you working this week?” 
He questioned. 
“Uh-, Tomorrow, Wednesday, and Friday. Why?” 
You asked, confused. 
“Is it okay if I come see you?” 
He questioned, voice sheepish, unable to make eye contact with you in fear of your rejection. That’s what all this has been about to begin with hasn’t it – the years away from you, the fear that he just wasn’t enough. 
“You can always come see me. But, why do you want to hang out at the club?” 
You smiled in his direction, noting how respectful it was for him not to just show up. 
“I am a member, you know?” 
He joked and flush filled your cheeks. Bold of you to assume he'd be there for you, you thought. He must have noticed the change in your demeanor, because he grabbed your hand and lifted your chin. 
“I want to spend time with you, silly girl and I can only gain your trust by spending all the time I can with you.” 
You smiled at him. 
“Thank you, Rafe. That’s sweet.” 
You looked in his eyes, thanking him for more than just his sweet words and he had no idea. 
-
You walked into the club at 4pm the next day, spotting Rafe immediately as he sat at the bar, waiting for your inevitable arrival. You were shocked to see him, even though he said he’d come. Truth be told, you hadn’t taken most of what Rafe Cameron said seriously in the last few years, but him showing up meant something to you. It meant more to you than you cared to admit.  After you clocked in and made your way behind the bar, your eyes met his. 
“Well, hey pretty girl.” 
He flashed you that Rafe Cameron smile and it was over. You were done for. 
“Hello, Rafael, to what do I owe this pleasure?” 
You said, smiling back at him. 
“Just wanted to hang out with my girl, that’s all.” 
He replied cheekily. You rolled your eyes playfully.
“She’s working.” 
You retorted, a fun-loving tone soaking your tongue, dispersing from him to check on your tables. You glanced his way a few times, only to be met with eyes studying your form. Your co-worker Emily made her way over to you, noticing his gaze. 
“So, why is Rafe Cameron being a creepy stalker and staring you down like a serial killer?” 
You chuckled, Emily or Em as she was known by her friends, had quite the knack for being dramatic. 
“Em, he is not a serial killer or creepy!” 
You yelped, rolling your eyes at her. 
“Whatever you say, angel. But, I better not see your face on the side of a milk carton any time soon.” 
You jokingly rolled your eyes at her and made your way back to the bar. You wanted to chat with Rafe for a bit while the club was slow, but he was heading out for the night and that stung a little. As he gathered his wallet and keys in his hands, you snuck up behind him, placing your arm at the small of his back. 
“You just gonna leave with no goodbye?” 
You smiled up at him, secretly hoping that wasn’t his intention. His face lit up at the sight of your smiling face beaming up at him and he relished in the feeling of your hand on his back, touching him like this. 
“No way, pretty girl. Never. Dad called and needed me home, something with Sarah.” 
He responded. 
“Okay. Well, be careful.” 
You replied. 
“Always am. You call if you need me to take you home, okay?” 
He asks, but it’s not a question. 
“Okay, Rafael. Be good.” 
You smiled at him, squeezing his hand before letting him go and watching him walk out the front door. The rest of the night drug by, Sundays were usually very busy with Kildare residents playing golf while heavily intoxicated, but most of the traffic died down around dinner time. It was your night to close so you were by yourself after Emily went home at 4 and that meant blasting Taylor Swift while you started closing the club down for the night. You wiped the tables down first, belting out the lyrics to your favorite Taylor song to date I Almost Do. You could remember it having a different meaning when you and Rafe had parted ways, singing it at the top of your lungs in your bedroom, willing yourself to pick up the phone and call him. Now, the words didn’t sting as much and instead, you just wanted to feel his warmth. It was no longer the song of your heart, now it was just another song. Those feelings seemed so far away and you couldn’t help but feel thankful. You were brought out of your thoughts by none other than JJ Maybank busting through the front door of the club and you knew this could only mean disaster. You locked eyes with him and that devilish smirk that he somehow always sported sent chills down your spine. 
“Miss me, angel?” 
He questioned, hiss in his tone. You ignored him, which you knew better than to do. You knew what it would do to him. You knew it drove him absolutely insane, but you did it anyway because it felt good. 
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” 
His yell echoed through the building and the fear that you remembered so well returned. 
“What, JJ? What do you want?” 
You scoffed. 
“I want your attention, honey.” 
He spoke softer now and you couldn’t help but think wow, what a psycho. 
“Sorry, you’ve lost that privilege.” 
“I haven’t lost anything, darling. Don’t forget who you belong to.” 
His sneer was sinister and you knew what he meant, what he was capable of. As he walked out of the door, tears filled your vision. You wanted so badly to call Rafe but you knew it would only mean disaster. He couldn’t know everything, yet. So, instead you finished closing the club and went home.
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dahliakbs · 7 hours
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Damian Wayne x Child! Reader (Part 1) - This won't do —⁠☆
Synopsis: after seeing the state of your apartment Damian pulls some strings and changes your life on step at a time.
"Are your parents attending the pta meeting?" Damian asks.
After seeing the wretched state your house was in Damian chose to stand at the door.
The moldy yellow floor of your apart was covered in dirt and whatever substances you managed track back into the house. The walls in the same sorry state with a moldy yellow wallpaper that was covered in nasty cracks and stains that could never be removed.
The tiles of your flooring were covered in a bottomless pit of clothes and whatever else was in that pile. Your window didn't show some immaculate view of Gotham City instead it was closed off with would. Glass shards left on the floor in front of the window after a stray bullet was shot through your window.
"Oh my Dad, he's not coming" you say as you make your way towards your kitchen.
Damian couldn't bare looking into the kitchen to see what mess was made in their so he chose to stair the ceiling instead.
"Why not?" He tilts his head to the side, he was told by Alfred that events like these were the only way to see how your child was progressing and apparently it was mandatory for parents to attend so why weren't your coming?
"Oh, my parents are dead" you said as if It didn't bother you and it didn't.
Your mother had sadly passed away during child birth.
Your dad tho...
He was a piece of work, never cared for your well-being AT ALL. You basically raised yourself in this house. The only reason you hadn't starved yet was because your father left food in the cupboard for you to use (mostly unhealthy cheap food).
You barely ever saw your dad and when he died you hadn't even noticed, not like he ever came home anyway. The only way you knew was when the news broadcast came on and you saw a blurred out image of a man that vaguely resembled your father.
There were several gunshot holes scattered around the figures body and by the looks of it he was probably just getting off of work before the death occurred.
The situation never bothered you, having no adults around was a blessing if anything.
"My parents can't come but I'll wait with you until your dad does" you replied and gasped when you found what you were looking for.
"Dami you have to try one" you turned to him with a cup of ramen noodles in hand.
"No thank you, aren't there other options?" he asked as he began to list off foods he'd already eaten before.
Safe to say, you hadn't even know those foods existed or eaten anything that wasn't microwavable.
This wouldn't do.
When he left your house that evening he made it his mission to find a way to get you out of that situation.
And that he did, when the day of the PTA meeting arrives Damian is oddly quiet. Not as if he talked much anyway.
While you both waited for his dad to finish speaking with the teachers he'd a held a tight grip on your hand as if to silently tell you not to run off anywhere.
"Dami I still don't know why you told me to bring all my stuff with me, are we having a sleepover?" You asked, you were told to bring all necessities which means that you needed your tooth brush and whatever you could salvage from that mess of a house.
"You'll know when we get there" he said calmly which only made your excitement grown even more. He was already pretty used to your energetic behavior so this was nothing.
At last the meeting had finished and you were all exiting he building.
"Is this the friend you told me about Damian" his father spoke up only to receive a nod in return.
You had never noticed how eerily similar they look but now that you were stood right before him you realized noticed the shared features.
"(Reader) right" Bruce got down in one knee so he could speak to you at eye level. Now, extending invitations to join the family weren't an everyday occurrence but if his son was so hard pressed on your living conditions and even brought up good points as to why you can't live there.
Plus he knew you were a good kid.
"A little Birdy informed me of your living conditions and they wanted me to extend an exciting offer to you" he spoke to you in a way that made your excitement peak.
You were so excited that you hadn't even noticed when you got in the car or when you arrived at the manor or when you arrived at Damian's bedroom door.
For you everything went by quickly, so quickly that when you woke up the next morning you couldn't even remember why you were in Damian's house or why you were currently bundled up across from his sleeping face.
He must've bundled you up while you were asleep. He was always considerate but rarely ever showed you that side of him.
"Dami, I need to go home" you said groggily.
"Your not going anywhere" he instantly replied.
"But I can't stay here forever, I need to go home" you said in a worried tone but he only raised a brow.
"I knew you weren't listening" he sighed.
"Just go back to sleep" he waved his hand in front if your face which seemed to do the trick because you were knocked out within seconds.
And just like that you were silently adopted into the family.
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dollsahoy · 2 days
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When I sew button-up shirts, I like to press as many edges as possible before I start sewing any pieces together. It's easier for me to work this way, because it means I don't have to wrangle an ever-growing project around on the ironing board and sleeve board.
These are all the hems--front, back, and short sleeves--pressed before assembly. (I did sew darts first.)
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I use a Dritz Ezy Hem (link to manufacturer's website, I am not compensated--I've had my Ezy Hem since before the very idea of people being compensated by companies in exchange for mentioning their products online) to press up the edges 5/8", then I fold the raw edges to the inside and press again.
When it's time to sew the seams that bring these pressed edges together, I unroll the pressed part and sew all the way to the raw edges
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Then I trim away some of the seam allowance corner, using the pressed lines to know how high to cut. The purpose of trimming the corner is to reduce bulk in the folded hem.
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Then I...well, then I serge the seam allowance, but I know not everyone does that, for various reasons. Then I fold the seam allowance toward the back and roll the pressed area back up. It doesn't always align perfectly, but it's close enough to flatten with my fingers. (If you're not serging, or are finishing the seams separately, they would be opened up before rolling.)
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Now it's ready to be stitched immediately, no need to get up and go press things.
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I stitch from the inside, so I know I'm actually sewing through the pressed edges--I understand this means that the stitching may not be perfectly evenly spaced from the edge on the outside, but it's close enough, and no-one's going to be scrutinizing my clothes to notice. They better not be.
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I also press the front bands and one side of the collar band before assembly
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I attach them, when it's time, to the shirt on the inside. Then I flip them around to the outside, encasing the seam allowances, and carefully edge stitching the pressed edge down. It's not the "hand-stitch on the inside so there is no visible stitching on the outside" approach the patterns generally want. But. I've sewn nine of this particular shirt, plus six of another button-up shirt pattern, since last summer, so it works for me.
I remember a time in the past when I was baffled by how to sew a button up shirt with front bands and two-part collars. Figuring out how to approach things in a way that makes sense to my brain--regardless of what the pattern says--helped a lot. (As did getting a vintage buttonholer attachment, but that's a different ramble.)
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cycle-hit · 3 days
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interesting implications by the fact kotoko thinks forming a group to enact justice is "useless" or doesnt have a point. btw. it means the wolf pack in harrow WASNT her working together with anyone. and that she likely held a negative opinion of the people who praised her in the deep cover article and said there were "multiple murderers" out for the guy she killed.
as well as. kotoko wanted to band together with us to enact justice. its interesting that shes now calling that same idea "useless"- what happened to "i will become your fang"? does she think that was "useless" now, because of what we've done?
translation stuff can also be wonky, but it does seem like kotoko might be getting fed up with the questioning already too. the dry "what." really gets me. we are on question two girl!! and kotoko HAS to know what her verdict is by now, or at the very least what es thinks of her. she was the one who figured out that the "voices" you hear correlate to innocent/guilty. she HAS to know. i wouldn't doubt if shes getting pissed off by being asked questions that seem so. Neutral.
interesting to note that kotoko's language seems to be more. violent? than her trial 1 answering format now too! we've gotten "crushes" and "useless" so far from her
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thewriterghost · 1 day
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Lovely!!!! Would you write something about Bucky x reader/ friend who moved to another state for work? They used to be really close and talk a lot but as things go with life and distance they drifted a part a bit? But maybe from time to time she’ll think she’ll see him from behind or a side profile walking home at night and think of him and send him a “thinking of you / we should catch up! text not realizing that from time to time that who she saw was Bucky. He will check in on her and see how she’s doing in her new life
Hello!! I'm so sorry, this is so late 😭 between school and internship I hardly got any time to write. In fact, I wrote this at work lol, hopefully you like it! Let me know what you think!
Summary: You moved away from the compound because of school. It's been a lonely few months now. That's definitely the reason you think you're seeing Bucky from the corner of your eye every time you look around, right?
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An autumn breeze catches you off guard, right when you are leaving your school building for the day. It was warmer during the day, you think as you walk to your bus stop. It's a lonely time of day, an orange glow of sunlight illuminates the empty bus stop.
As you make it a point to crash every red or yellow leaf you see on your way without being too obvious, out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of a familiar metallic glow. That same feeling you always get around him, the butterflies and the hippos come back to your stomach, making your heart beat a million times a moment. Your eyes snap towards it, but it disappears all too fast for you to spot, leaving you with disappointment and longing.
You miss him. You try not to, but it's not easy not talking to him everyday like you did before, not being able to hang out on 3 am when both of you are too stubborn to go to sleep, or not being able to just exist at the same place at the same time with various animals in your stomach (figuratively).
You grab your phone from your pocket and click on his name on your messaging app. You hand hovers over the text box for a while, until you decide to just write to him. It's not like you haven't been talking since you left, it's more like you didn't want to talk all too much because of how much you'd want to just drop everything and go to him. Still, you think, enough is enough.
"Hey, you busy?"
You wait for a moment, anxiously nibbling on your lower lip. It doesn't take him more than 60 seconds to write back.
"Nope. You?"
You write back, biting down a smile.
"Nope. Just got out of school, going home."
You can almost hear his grumble-ish answers through your phone. A message pops up.
"Isn't it late? I thought you got off at 4."
You must've told him your schedule, but your mind doesn't come up with a memory to support it. You shrug it off and type.
"Yeah, I had to make a presentation and I was the last one of the class so the professor just agreed to do it now rather than next week."
"Does that mean you're free next week?"
You can't help but smile brightly. Looks like you're not the only one missing the other.
"Does that mean you miss me?"
You can almost see his scoff. You giggle to yourself.
"Does that mean we can meet?" He answers. You jump at the opportunity almost too fast.
"Yeah, sure. When are you free?"
"Whenever you're free."
"You don't have a mission or anything?"
"I'll bail." His answer makes you laugh out loud, maybe the first sincere laugh since you've been here.
"If it's not going to be a trouble for you."
"It won't. When should I pick you up?"
You check your schedule on your mind. You would be free tomorrow afternoon.
"Tomorrow afternoon? 2-ish maybe?"
"Sounds good."
You contemplate on whether to write it or not, but then think why not and type.
"I missed you, you know." And you put the phone on your pocket, face starting to burn up.
Your phone buzz, and you get the phone out faster than light.
"I missed you too." Your eyes glance over the letters more than once, each time smiling even more, until you find yourself giggling to yourself at 6 pm on an empty bus stop.
"I'll see you tomorrow." Another text appears on your screen, leaving you happier that you've ever been since the last few months.
Next day goes too slow for your taste. You keep finding yourself shaking your knee up and down with anticipation.
You are out of the door when the clock hits 2 pm. As you arrive at the school gates you realize you haven't told him where to come. You pull out your phone to type, but stop at your tracks when you hear it.
"Hey."
Sitting on a black motorcycle, blue eyes and black jacket catches you off guard. A smile creeps on to your lips.
"Hey." You return the sentence as you find your feet and move towards him. He has a gentle smile as well, uncharacteristically for him as people would say, but not for you. You've seen him like this before. When you were up all night and baked not one, not two, but three batches of cookies together, you've seen that same smile everytime your eyes have met. Or that one time when it was raining too hard and you were too sick to go to mission, and he stayed to look after you, cuddling you since he can't get sick because of serum.
He takes your helmet from the back and after looking at you with that sweet smile of his for a moment, he puts it on for you, clipping it with delicate movements.
"Hop on." He instructs and you obey, hugging him from behind with a pair of red cheeks which thankfully can't be seen thanks to your helmet.
As he takes off, you don't bother to ask where to. After a brief 10-15 minutes, he stops in front of a small cafe near a park.
"Were you around here yesterday?" You ask, recalling the silver glimmer you saw yesterday evening.
"I was on a mission." He shrugs.
"Huh." You mumble. Seeing his puzzled look, you add. "I thought I saw you yesterday, after school. Right before I texted you, in fact."
"You must've missed me a lot." He smirks, opening the door to the cafe for you. Always a gentleman.
"Must've." You return the smile as you walk in.
As you both get your coffees and pastries, you decide to ignore the fact that he probably was here yesterday. In fact, he probably was around since you moved here. Watching out for you, worrying about you, missing you.
"What are you smiling about?" You come back to real life when he gently nudges your shoulder with his.
"Oh, nothing." You shake your head. "I was just thinking, we should meet more often. It's been too long."
"Yeah, agreed." He replies with a smile of his own. You don't realize the look in his eyes, confirming your theory.
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dinums · 18 hours
Text
The Unexpected Visit
Thomas Shelby x Reader
This is part 2, by the way! Check out part 1 first!
Summary: Ada gets married, Thomas takes a Barmaid to a Derby, Thomas, and (Y/N) gets closer.
Word counter: 2,056 words
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"Should I be crying? You look like an angel, Ada," I said wholeheartedly, helping her with the veil as I admired her through the reflection in the mirror. My words brought a chuckle from her, filling the room with a lightness.
"Do you think he'll like it? Freddie, I mean," she asked, seeking reassurance.
"Of course he will. Ang ganda mo kaya," I replied
"Ganda mo kaya?" Ada questioned, curious about the meaning. I explained, "It means 'you're beautiful.'' With her heart full of love, she left the house early in the morning.
Later that day, Pol asked me to run some errands around town, buy a few things at the market, though I knew she wanted me to take a breather from everything that's been happening, that I was thankful for. As I walked, the mud stained my shoes, and the smoke filled the sky, reminding me that this environment was vastly different from what I was accustomed to. I veered towards a less crowded section of town, continuing my walk, when suddenly, the sound of a gunshot pierced the air. My body froze, and my head snapped in the direction of the noise. In the distance, I spotted two figures—a man and a woman. Without daring to investigate further, I swiftly turned and ran, paying no mind to the mud splattering on my skirt. At that moment, running was the only important thing, outfit be damned.
"Jusko po..." I gasped, leaning my back against a wall once I deemed myself far enough from the commotion. I panted heavily, resting my hands on my knees to catch my breath. People cast strange glances in my direction, but I paid them no mind. No one could know what I had witnessed.
After calming myself down for a while, I realized I couldn't simply return home. Walking down the familiar streets, I made my way to the market and purchased the items on my list. Once back home, I placed them on the kitchen table before heading upstairs to change. Convincing myself that the gunshot from earlier were just friendly fire, that utbjust happened on accident.
As I descended the stairs, I overheard the boys conversing amongst themselves. Arthur now owned the Garrison, and Tommy had made an attempt on Ada's husband. They were planning to attend a Derby.
"So, you're taking the pretty barmaid, eh mate?" John asked. I paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, realizing that Tommy had a date.
Peeking my head around the corner, I caught sight of John and Arthur snickering to themselves.
"Whoa, Thomas has a date?" I exclaimed, capturing the attention of the three men. John was the first to respond, saying, "Of course he does."
"And she's a pretty one too, works at the Garrison!" Arthur chimed in. Unbeknownst to me, Thomas had been watching me the entire time, and as our eyes met, I gave him a thumbs-up.
"Good luck, treat her right," I said, my smile turning into a more serious expression. I was well aware of how women were often treated by men during these times.
"It's just business," Tommy replied dismissively.
"Everything is always business to you, Tommy," Arthur groaned, earning a glare from Thomas.
"It'd be nice if you take yourself a woman, eh?" John teased his brother, getting him a smack in the back of his head by Thomas which made me chuckle.
"Well, I heard you own the Garrison now, Arthur!" I interjected, walking over to join them.
"Been eavesdropping, eh, love?" Arthur said with a toothy grin, causing me to blush in embarrassment. When I tried to explain myself, he waved a hand in the air, assuring me it was alright, and mentioned that they would be celebrating at the Garrison. He then began pulling John along with him, leaving me alone with Thomas.
"I heard you tried to shoot Ada's husband. Did you apologize?" I asked, concerned.
"He's not dead."
"Did you apologize?" I repeated, but was only met with silence, I let out a sigh.
"Well, you should. If you're going on a date, you need to show respect to your sister before other women—"
"It's just business."
"Even so, Thomas. When's the date?" I inquired.
Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, as I continued referring to his "business" as a date.
"Tomorrow"
"Since you guys will be busy, I'll go out and find a library. Maybe they'll have something that can help me go back. I'll finish my work today and even do some extra to make up for it," I declared, informing him, knowing he won't stop me. When he only nodded, I took that as my cue to leave. Going inside the betting shop to officially start the day.
///
When tomorrow finally came, I went down to find out the boys have left already. I didn't see where Polly was but Finn was in the kitchen, he threw something in the fireplace.
I walked over to him, my curiosity peaked. "Hey, what was that, hm?" When I crouched down, it was a cigarette.
"Finn?" I held it out, wanting him to explain but were just met with a guilty look. I was aware enough that children from these times smoke and drank alcohol, Finn himself wouldn't be an exception, it shouldn't have had surprised me, especially since Thomas and the others smoked quite often.
"You're still young"
"I'd turn 11 soon,"
"Well, you're still 10. Do it when you're old enough to make decisions for yourself, I've got to go somewhere, but no more of this, okay?" He nodded, which made me smile, patting his head.
"Good, if Pol asks where I am, I'm off to the library"
To my surprised, when I left there was a Peaky Boy by the door, when he approached me, he said that Thomas asked him to escort me to the library since it was far away.
///
"Seriously? Still nothing?"
It has been hours and I still haven't found anything concerning time travel. Though this was expected, it still quite annoyed me. I felt hopeless, feeling tears start to make their way to fall down my cheeks.
"Ma'am, shall I take you home? Its getting quite dark." The Peaky Boy said which stopped my train of thoughts. Quickly wiping my eyes, I looked up at him and forced a smile.
"Yeah, sure." After finishing up, we began to walk our way towards town, it was quite silent so I tried to make conversation with the guy.
"So, what's your name?"
"Charles, Ma'am." I nodded in acknowledgment by his answer, chuckling a bit.
"You don't have to be so stiff, call me (Y/N)," he smiled at that and after we continued to walk with comfortable silence around us, letting me forget my frustration for a moment.
"Thanks for escorting me, by the way"
I bid him goodbye before walking inside the house. Once inside, no one was there, guess everyone's out. I went to Thomas' room, which can be considered mine for the time being.
Feeling a sense of boredom, I picked up a sketchbook and some pencils that Arthur had given me. The pages were already filled with a few sketches done by both me and him. Reflecting on the events of the day, I attempted to draw my brother, trying my best to capture his face. I couldn't help but worry that if I stayed here any longer, I would forget—forget my friends, my family, and the cherished memories we shared. It dawned on me that while I'm here they're probably looking for me.
Deciding to create a comic strip depicting my memories and descriptions of my family, I couldn't help but tear up a little. I had already forgotten my mother and brother's voice.
"Ma, miss kona kayo ni kuya... Mama..."
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts, and I quickly composed myself before inviting the visitor in. It was Polly.
"Pol..."
"The boys are at the Garrison, celebrating. I came to pick you up. Are you alright, love?"
I smiled and nodded. "I'm alright, Pol. It's nothing, just a bit of homesickness. I'll stay here for the night. Do tell them I said congratulations." She nodded, relieved that she didn't pry any further, and left, bidding me goodnight.
///
Unable to sleep that night, I found some peace in my drawings. I kept a candle by my bedside to provide light, sitting with my knees drawn close to my chest and my back against the wall, facing the door with the notebook resting on my thigh.
After a while, I could hear the sound of people talking downstairs. It seemed like Arthur had indulged in a few drinks as he kept yelling, something about a man called Kimber. When the commotion subsided, there was another knock on my door, followed by Thomas' voice asking if I was still awake. I replied affirmatively, and he took it as his cue to enter. Closing the door behind him, he remained silent, prompting me to break the silence.
"So, how was the date? Did it go well?"
"I told you, it's business, eh?" he chuckled, walking over to sit beside me.
"What brings you here?"
"It's my room."
"Fair enough. But why are you here?" I asked. However, instead of responding directly, he asked a question of his own.
"How did your visit to the library go?" I sighed, playing with my hands as I slumped my shoulders.
"Terrible. I feel like I'm trapped here forever. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to be with you all, but I had a life back there, you know? If I stay here any longer, I'm afraid... i just miss my mother, brother, and my friends."
"You have a brother?" he asked, glancing back at me. I nodded, slightly distracted by his question.
"Yeah, he's annoying but caring. We used to play games together."
"Oh, really? What kind?" he inquired. I smiled and lightly punched him on the shoulder.
"Are you just trying to distract me?" I teased. He shrugged, pursing his lips in an attempt to suppress a smile, though I could see it in his eyes.
We continued our conversation, and somehow, before we knew it, we found ourselves lying in bed, facing each other. I kept talking, and he listened.
"Are you sure I'm not bleeding your ears?" I asked, squinting my eyes at him.
He shook his head and encouraged me to keep talking by gesturing to the side.
"Where was I again?" I questioned, testing if he was genuinely paying attention.
"You were talking about your dog named 'Dog,'" he replied.
"Ah, right."
As I was drifting off to sleep, I noticed him getting up, trying not to disturb me.
"Hey, Thomas..."
"Hm?"
"If I met you in my time, siguro nahulog nako sayo"
///
Those were the words that left (Y/N)'s lips. Thomas, though not fully understanding the context, couldn't help but smile nonetheless. He bid her goodnight before leaving to sleep downstairs.
Only he knew the true reason why he had sought her out after returning from the Garrison. Somehow, being with her made him feel like his former self, the boy he was before the war. She brought a genuine warmth to his life, treated him like a normal person and not something broken, not someone without a heart, and not someone that killed so many in the name of war. When she looked at him, he feels like she sees the boy he was, coaxing him to come out little by little, and that comforted him because she sees him, sees someone he thought he can never be again. What began as fascination had blossomed into something deeper. He yearned to know more about her, to delve into the stories and memories she shared. Her voice brought him a sense of comfort. In his own way he wanted her to feel heard, wanted her to know he was there, with her, with everything she will do while she's here.
But deep down, he knew she didn't belong here, and that she would eventually have to leave. So, as much as he wanted to make her stay as memorable as possible, if he could be selfish with her, he hoped against hope that she would choose to stay.
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pumpkinsy0 · 1 day
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Do u have headcanons about or what do you think about a 90s or 00s AU (maybe) where Curly Shepard is a punk and Ponyboy a goth or a babybat? ^_^ Like imagine purly but ponyboy tries to show his obsession for edgar allan poe and curly or the gang JUST DON'T GET IT 😭
wym anon that literally already IS purly🙄🙄
BUT YEA I DO HAVE HCS!!!! o(^-^)o
(for context who dont know, baby at is the name for like ppl who r newly goth basically, theyre just starting out listening to music n stuff like that)
•since curly is punk here and the whole idea of punks is essentially anti establishment and love individuality i will NOT make him make fun of pony for being goth, especially when hes a babybat hes just embracing himself
•also curly is curly i feel like hes a bit morbid himself and would be at the very least interested in edgar allen poe, so even if he wasnt punk he wouldnt make fun of pony for liking him, even if he does thats just bc hes being friendly and just does NOT like poetry
•ill place this in like, late 90s and early 2000s, so there is that huge thing against goths and punks for being ‘weird’ and against god or something along those lines
•curlys pretty used to being targeted for being different for his punk style and such while pony isnt exactly used to that so i imagine that hes more protective while ponys trying to figure himself out in that regard
•some bands pony would b interested in is evanescence, the cure, and siouxsie and the banshees, london after midnight, of course there IS more but these r like more so his favs
•how pony found out about gothic bands was like, a song was playing in darrys car radio and darry didnt rlly like it so he changed it but the song was already stuck in ponys head
•he brought it up to curly but pony was just like ‘idk maybe itll pass’, it in fact DID not pass and later they was just chillin in curlys car and the song came back on the radio and pony was like ‘neuron activated’
•curly was personally not rlly into the song, but hey, ponys happy so its whatever
•personally i imagine that pony doesnt have a gothic STYLE more so he has a love for gothic songs and literature, yknow what i mean??? but maybe he does borrow some clothes from curly thats more on the gothic side or thrifts some clothes
•other than edgar allen poe, he does like phantom of the opera, frankenstein, dracula, carmilla, dr jekyll and mr hyde, also he would like ruby gloom (thank my gf for this hc)
•his art style is kinda influenced by those media actually
•as for what type of goth he is i could mostly see him being like a geek goth, but he is interested in the looks of victorian goths and gothabilly goths
IVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT PONY FOR TOO LONG NOW ON ABOUT CURLY
•tbh, not much to add for this guy, punk curly is literally just regular curly but more understanding of who he is and what he wants in the world yknow??
•think of curly but actually a lil more, idk thought provoking in his own curly way with a better understanding of the world
•MAY I INSERT MY HC OF CURLY HAVIN AN AFRO MOHAWK HERE🗣️🗣️
•he is from a haitian household tho and haitian moms especially tend to be more, religious and all that jazz, so while tim and angela get their ears yelled off for well being them, its especially happening to curly bc in his moms eyes hes “turning away from god” n what not being a “vagabon” as many haitian moms would put it
•he likes customizing his own clothes, he thrifts and gets a bunch of hand me downs so might as well make them look cooler
•hes a graffiti artist and hes acc pretty well known, everyone knows its him but they dont rlly say anything cause 1) hes curly shepard but 2) his work rlly isnt that bad actually
•i could totally see him liking green day and he does NOT like fall out boy but he does like a coulle of songs from them (much to his dismay
•hes picking up guitar (how he afforded it??? i payed for it lets just say that)
WHEN IT COMES TO THE GANG, they dont rlly get pony being goth, they support him of course, but they do tend to make fun of him a bit</33 but darry, soda, and johnny do try to understand him more, its rlly just two
ps anon my gf said she loves u for ur idea (shes goth, u got the goth stamp of approval)
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