#we should make dat list

[kayime]

[firstprincehornyramblings]

WOW I've been slacking on these lil updates, huh? Well, I'm almost done with the wip I'm focusing on. It might even be done next weekend? So, time to make sure you guys are still vibing with it? So, back into the age gap professor Henry fic I was affectionately calling 'what if Henry was Alex's bisexual awakening, but they weren't together?' All dat below the cut.

---------------

“Oh,” Henry inhaled deeply, it was the tone of voice and the fucking way Alex looked at him. As if he’d broken the poor boy’s heart. It made Henry’s ache, guilt seeming to climb his limbs like a physical horror. He sat up a bit straighter, fixing his pants, trying to avert eye contact. “Well, if you’d prefer, I can request another assistant for the remaining two months.”  “I don’t want you to do that either,” Alex sat back on his heels, his own face contorting with guilt.  As if he had anything to feel bad about. It was Henry who should be ashamed, not Alex. Why was this beautiful man feeling anything even close to the contrition that settled itself into Henry’s bones. If Alex felt a negative emotion, it should be anger, he should hate Henry, for being so weak, for giving in so easily, or for stringing him along. Was it possible he knew how hard Henry was fighting? Could he understand the gnawing need to feel even the brush of fingertips? Did he know how Henry wrestled with his own desire and logic? How he found it hard to sleep with the shame of allowing himself to be so taken with a man so much younger?  “I want to see you,” Alex continued. “Part of why it’s sad is because soon you won’t need an assistant anymore. And I’ll go from seeing you every day to not seeing you at all. I think that would be worse, I’m going to miss you so badly. I already miss you on weekends, seeing you makes my day better, He- Professor Fox. Even when we fight and I annoy you, shit, I’m just flirting with you. I love seeing you crack a smile when you call me ‘deplorable’ or some other stupid word.” He sighed then, straightening his posture, as if to look serious, “I know I’m young, and you probably do want someone your own age, but I think I could make you happy. We could have fun together, and that’s the only thing that matters, right? I know, at least, that nobody would try harder to make you hap-” “Alex,” Henry interrupted, his voice trembling. But he couldn’t take anymore, not a single word. He couldn’t listen to everything he’d ever wanted to hear from every other man he’d been with, “It’s late, they’ll lock the doors soon. You should head back to your dorm, or your boyfriend, or whatever you do on Friday nights. As long as you want to keep working with me, I’ll see you Monday afternoon.” 

----

in my defense, i didn't say the cut was for smut reasons. don't be mad at me. (i promise the fucking nasty is COMING <- not as fast as alex will tho. ba dum tss)

ANYWAY, TAG TIME. adding a few new people, but also if any of you want to be taken off my tag list, lemme know, i always feel like im bothering people lol

@taste-thewaste @henrysfox @mikibwrites @judasofsuburbia

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics @henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones @henfox @anti-homophobia-cheese

@redlipstickandglitter @eusuntgratie @potato-jem @gayhoediaz

@thesleepyskipper @onthewaytosomewhere @thighzp @lfg1986-2

@bitbybitwrites @midnight-soulless-system @tailsbeth-writes @percy-jackson-is-sexy-

+ literally anyone else; I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[msmercury84]

"Moving to Winton Street" from "I Double Dare You-A Rendezvous With Destiny"

*Author's note: Bill Guarnere and his family moved to Winton Street in South Philadelphia early in his marriage to Frannie. His father-in-law loaned Bill the money to purchase the house and Guarnere gave his new car to his father-in-law to thank him for helping him get the rowhouse. The amount he paid back to his father-in-law is in the book he wrote with Babe.

The price for Bill's new house is mentioned in his book. A house for sale next to his was listed on a Philadelphia realtor's web page for about $80,000 last September. It's the same type of home. I got curious and investigated what the property was worth in today's money. The "talking Italian" story also came from Bill's and Babe's book.

The U.S Government provided new cars to former soldiers who were seriously wounded in the war.He really made the,comment about wanting the car and not wanting to talk about baseball. President Truman really chuckled and said what he did to Bill This information also comes from the book Bill wrote with Babe. The rest is from my imagination. The scene with the U Haul was inspired by an event that occurred when I moved into my apartment. Unlike Leigh, I didn't hold up traffic on a street, I blocked two lanes of traffic on a major state highway. The truck I drove is a little bit larger than the one in the picture from the late 1940s.*

After Leigh was completely healed from the C-section surgery, she and Bill discussed moving to a rowhouse with three bedrooms, since they planned on having another child. While reading the real estate ads in the newspaper one evening, three months later, Bill saw that a rowhouse with three bedrooms was available on Winton Street, not far from their current location.

There was a major obstacle in obtaining the house. It had to be bought instead of rented. Cal Spencer was aware of the situation and he loaned Bill and Leigh the full amount of money to buy the house, $2,000. Bill insisted on paying Cal $20 to $50 per month.

Before the moving got underway, Bill was notified by a letter from an amputees' group in which he was a member. A congressman came up with a bill to give new cars to men who became amputees due to war injuries.

Bill went with the group to meet with President Truman. A man in front of him spent a long time chatting about baseball with the President. He told the man,

"Buddy, I didn't come here to talk baseball. I'm here for the car." Truman heard Bill's remark, chuckled and told him,

"You got it, kid." The new car was a black Pontiac and that particular model wouldn't be available for purchase until the following year (1948). Bill insisted that Cal should take the car, telling him,

"Pop Spencer, since you helped us get the house, it's only right that (he pronounced the word as 'dat') I give ya the car. When Cal tried to decline the offer, Bill convinced him to take the car, saying,

"A brand new car would stick out like a sore thumb around here. Our car suits us just fine." Mr. Spencer insisted that Bill and Leigh take his 1945 Buick. Bill was glad to have a newer car and he gave the 1941 Buick to Teresa. He told her,

"Since ya know how to drive, I thought you could use the car to go to work. You could take Ma an' Pop wherever they needed to go. That way, they'd have a way to get somewhere if they couldn't get a ride." Teresa was excited and happy to have the car.

Later that evening, while they were eating supper, Bill told Leigh,

"Thanks to your pop, we're on our way to havin' it all. We own our house an' we don't have a mortgage to pay. I was thinkin', after we get moved in, let's get busy an' sorta make each room ours, if ya know what I mean."

"I like that idea, Honey. You can explore my downstairs in every room."

"I'll never get tired o' explorin' your downstairs, Sweetheart."

Bill and Leigh decided to use a new company, U-Haul, to facilitate their move to Winton Street. Moving vans or trucks could be rented from the company, which was much cheaper than hiring a moving company.

It took quite a bit of time to box up dishes, glasses, furniture, clothing,baby items plus other personal belongings and household goods. Once the boxes were securely packed and taped shut, it was time to load the moving truck.

Bill's brother-in-law, his nephew and Babe Heffron helped load the truck. Maria and her family had to attend an out of town funeral, so they weren't involved in getting Bill and Leigh moved into their new house.

While Bill and the men were busy moving and arranging furniture, Leigh decided to drive the truck to pick up some small boxes of her clothing. She had a great deal of difficulty getting into the vehicle, since it sat much higher than a car.

Wearing a day dress made climbing into the truck a challenge. While some women wore pants, a majority of women still wore dresses. Leigh had to find a way to get into the truck without making the skirt of her dress ride up to expose her underwear.

She opened the driver's side door to the truck and found a strap to grab on to. Then she carefully hoisted herself into the cab of the truck. Next, she had to move the seat all the way forward to reach the gas and brake pedals.

Leigh backed up the truck and cringed when she heard the sound of it striking the garbage cans at the side of the driveway. She thought,

"Just what I don't need. The last thing I want to do is make a scene for the neighbors." A man from the neighborhood was walking past the rowhouse. He shouted,

"Mrs. Guarnere, Stop! You hit the damn garbage cans! Hang on, I'll help ya." Leigh was glad for the man's help, but she thought,

"Wonderful! Now everyone within hearing distance will know about the 'woman driver' who can't back up a truck without destroying something." He backed up the truck, turned it around to easily exit the driveway and helped her get the garbage and the cans picked up. She thanked him and he wished her luck with the move.

Power steering didn't exist at that time, and Leigh found the steering more difficult to manage than the steering wheel of a car. She ran into trouble when she had to pull onto a major thoroughfare to access Winton Street.

Leigh was accustomed to looking into the rear view mirror of a car, which is in the middle of the windshield. She quickly realized that she had to depend upon two mirrors, one on either side of the truck, to see.

She swore under her breath, rolled down the driver's side

window and stuck her head out the window, trying to see the entire street. Leigh could see the entire left side of the thoroughfare and only a portion of the right side.

Then, Leigh issued silent prayers to prevent an accident and to get her safely to her new home. Soon, several cars were lined up behind her. Unbeknownst to Leigh, her brother-in-law Sal, Julia's husband, was in the second car behind the truck.

He was heading back to Winton Street after a quick visit to his house. Sal needed to get his moving dolly to help move more furniture into the house. He saw Leigh when she looked out of the truck's window.

A man directly behind Leigh lost his patience and honked the horn on his car. He yelled,

"Are ya gonna sit there all day? Get that truck outta here!" Leigh was nervous about driving and she felt extremely irritable due to the traffic situation and the rude man behind her. She yelled back,

"Keep your shirt on, you baciagaloop (an Italian word meaning 'dummy' or 'fool' that she learned from Augusta), I'm doing the best I can!" Five minutes later, the man repeatedly sounded the horn again and Leigh put her left arm out of the driver's side window with the middle finger of her left hand sticking up, hoping the man would see the gesture.

By this time, Sal was laughing. He shouted,

"Atta girl, Leigh!", but she didn't hear him. The traffic let up for a moment, and she quickly got onto the street and headed for her destination. She decided to leave the driving of the truck to Bill or someone helping them from that moment on.

Ten minutes later, she pulled the vehicle into the parking lot behind the house. Bill came out to help her out of the truck. He embraced and kissed her before he helped her carry in the boxes of clothing. Sal pulled into the driveway, parked his car and walked toward Leigh and Bill.

"Leigh, ya did a good job handlin' that guy behind ya." She thanked Sal and Bill asked,

"What are ya talkin' about, Sal?" Bill was quickly filled in on the situation, with Sal adding,

"Then, she gave that guy the ol' one finger salute." Leigh couldn't help but laugh and Bill did his customary loud, single laugh.

"That's my sassy baby! You must've learned that word from Ma." She quickly glanced at the left side of the truck and was greatly relieved to see that there were no marks or scratches on the side of it from hitting the garbage cans.

When everything was unloaded from the truck, it was time to return it to the rental company. Leigh asked Bill to drive the truck, since driving it made her nervous. She drove the car and followed Bill to the U-Haul rental office. One of the employees in the office inspected the truck, telling the Guarneres,

"It looks great. This is a new truck and it's the first time it's been used." Leigh silently thanked providence that she didn't mar the truck when she hit the garbage cans and that she avoided an accident pulling out in traffic when she couldn't completely see the street.

A surprise awaited the Guarneres, the relatives helping them move and Babe. Teresa drove Augusta and her father to the new house and she had homemade lasagna, garlic bread, Broccoli Rabe and pizzelles for dessert. Leigh told Augusta,

"Mama, you're a godsend! Thank you so much for fixing a delicious supper for us." Then, she hugged her.

"You're welcome, Sweetie. I wanted to give you an' Billy a break. You've both been workin' hard an' I didn't want you to have to cook, too."

Everyone sat around the dining room table. Bill found a bottle of red wine in the kitchen and he poured it into a decanter that was passed around the table so everyone could pour as much wine as he or she wanted into their wine glasses.

They kept the noise down since Billy was sleeping in his crib in his upstairs bedroom. Bill asked the blessing and everyone enjoyed their supper.

Augusta, the other family members and Babe laughed when they heard about Leigh and the man in the car behind her.

"You done the right thing, Sweetie. That's exactly what I woulda called him. You're doin' a good job pickin' up Italian words. Would ya like to learn how to speak Italian?" Leigh said that she was interested in learning the language. Bill laughed, telling everyone,

"It'll be like when I was a kid. We knew one of us was in trouble when Ma and Pop started talkin' Italian. If my sweet angel gets mad at me, she'll probably start talkin' Italian, too." Teresa and Julia laughed at Bill's comment. Julia remarked,

"Hearin' Ma and Pop talkin' Italian made us wonder whose ass would get hit wit' a wooden spoon." Everyone at the table laughed. Leigh told Bill,

"Honey, can't see you doing anything to make me mad, but if it happens, I promise to speak English." Julia remarked with a smirk like Bill's,

"Leigh, you didn't know Billy Baby when he was a kid. He was usually into some kinda trouble." Bill feigned an expression of shock, telling her,

"Julia, you know that ain't true. I was a little angel back then." Laughter ensued after this comment. Bill had his after supper cigarette as Julia answered,

"I'm just yankin' your chain, baby brother. You were a pretty good kid, but I wouldn't call ya an angel." Augusta spoke up,

"Since we're talkin' about angels, is it OK wit' you, Sweetie, if I go up an' see Billy? I'll be right back to help wit' the dishes."

"Mama, you can see Billy whenever you want, there's no need to ask. Take your time visiting him. Since you fixed supper, I'm doing the dishes." Julia and Teresa also offered to help. The work was over fairly quickly with three women working in the kitchen.

While they worked, Leigh told Julia and Teresa,

"This reminds me of the time Bill brought me home to meet everyone. You, Maria and I washed the dishes and danced to the music." Julia and Teresa laughed, remembering how Augusta and Bill surprised them by applauding after they finished singing along with the radio. Julia told Leigh,

"Now, here ya are, married to Billy Baby an' you have that handsome little guy. I gotta see him before we go home." Teresa said,

"Billy's a little angel. I need to see him, too, before I take Ma and Pop home."

Augusta walked into Billy's bedroom. He was awake and she picked him up from his crib, holding him close to her.

"You're Nonna's handsome little angel. You remind me of your pop when he was little like you. You're growin'. Soon, you'll be Nonna's big boy." Billy smiled at her as she kissed his cheek.

"Such a sweet baby." Then, he wet his diaper.

" I'll get ya cleaned up an' in a dry diaper." After she took care of him and placed the dirty diaper into a diaper pail with a lid, she told him,

"That should feel better for ya. You're livin' in a new house now. There's lots of space in the backyard for ya to play when ya get older." Leigh excused herself for a moment and she got a bottle of milk for Billy. When she entered the bedroom, Leigh smiled as she saw Augusta holding Billy.

"I just came up to give Billy his bottle."

"Sweetie, can I do it?" She handed the bottle to Augusta. Mrs. Guarnere sat in a rocking chair beside the bed. She fed and burped Billy.

"Thanks, Leigh. I never get tired of havin' a baby in my arms. He's a blessin'."

"You and Pop are blessings, too." Augusta thanked her. Billy soon went back to sleep.

"Bill is a wonderful father. He helps with Billy, from feeding to diaper changes. He calls him 'My little ol' man.'"

"You're both great parents an' Billy's nickname is sweet." Augusta gently placed him into his crib.

"Mama, I hope you and Pop come over during the weekend. Mom and Dad are visiting."

"Louise told me she an' your pop were visitin' soon. You can count on us comin', Leigh. We enjoy spendin' time wit' your folks." Augusta and Leigh went downstairs. Once everyone had left, Bill asked Leigh,

"Sweetheart, will ya come outside wit' me for a minute? I forgot to do somethin'." Leigh complied, wondering what he had in mind, and they went out the front door. Then, Bill surprised her when he picked her up and carried her over the threshold."

"That's better, Baby. Now, we're officially moved in." He embraced Leigh, telling her,

"Now, how about we do a little explorin'?"

"What room do you have in mind?"

"Let's take it upstairs, Baby." They walked hand in hand to their bedroom.

[1percentcharge]

Are we ever gonna get a full list on the students of Horror High and their parents? Cause sometimes I’ll be looking at your art and think: “who dat?”

ah sorry hahaha! I should really make a more organized (and updated) place for character info. ill probably work on that once i get a little more free time.

[cdsillylilyposting]

Ok we can now add inflation onto the list of things a Lily doesn’t understand she thinks fixing prices would make inflation magically stop because she doesn’t get that money can be worth more or less depending on circumstances. Btw this is why you should listen to your teachers in school and do your homework Lily.

Dunno what she said about inflation but

Sai made up a joke calling this "the lolcow gene" an... yeaahhh i agree with her on dat

That unique mix of Ego, Stupidity, and perma onlineness that causes people to act very confidently wrong and very unknowingly strange!

[venactricisfics]

Malibu Desert

Chapter Twenty-Six

Finding comfort with a good friend. 18+

Chapter List

"I need you to stay away from the clubhouse for a few days," Bishop said over the phone. His voice was tense—different from the usual strain I'd gotten used to. He hadn’t come home the night before, and at this point, I’d stopped expecting him to.

I sat up straighter, bracing myself. "What happened?" I asked, though I wasn’t really expecting a straight answer.

There was a pause, just long enough to make my stomach tighten.

"EZ was shot," he finally said.

The answer hit worse than silence. My breath caught, heart hammering in my chest.

"What?!" I nearly shouted. "What hospital is he in? I’ll be there in a few minutes."

"It was a through-and-through," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "He’ll be okay, but the guy that shot him is here too. So you can’t come. We’re handling it. But there might be blowback, so just stay away for now."

I gripped the phone tighter. "Who?"

"Guy from Stockton Charter," he said, calmer than I expected for a betrayal that cut that deep.

Stockton. That meant it wasn’t just some outside threat—it was internal. Club business. And that kind of betrayal didn’t go unanswered.

Bishop exhaled, the weight of it coming through the line. "I’ll be caught up dealing with this shit, so we won’t make your opening."

I swallowed, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I understand."

There was a beat of silence before I added, softer, "Be careful, okay?"

"Yeah," he said, and for the first time in a while, I thought I heard something real in his voice. "I will."

The line clicked off. No goodbye. No I love you.

To be fair, I hadn’t said it either.

We were just going through the motions—had been for months.

My finger hovered over the button, contemplating a second before pressing the call button. Calling Angel wasn’t that far-fetched. If Bishop looked at my phone it wouldn’t be obvious. There were as many calls to the other Mayans that it wouldn’t be suspicious. 

“Hello?” his voice on the other end of the line. 

“You OK?” I asked.

“Me? My brother was just fuckin’ shot, OK is nowhere near the fuckin’ ballpark,” he responded. 

“Sorry, dumb question,” I said, “Send EZ my love. I’d be there if I could.”

“Yeah, I know,” he responded. “Look I gotta go.”

“Angel”

“What?”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, just long enough for me to know he was debating whether to hang up on me.

Finally, he exhaled sharply. “No promises, Malibu.”

The line went dead before I could say anything else.

“Ya ready ta go?” Patrick’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You’ll miss yer own bloody openin’ if you don’t hurry up.”

“Alright, alright,” I said grabbing my keys from the bowl by the door, “Let’s go.”

“Ya should really let me drive,” he said as he slipped into the passenger’s seat. 

“Last time I let you drive we were on the wrong side of the road,” I told him.

“Dat’s cause yer bloody country does it different dan e’ery where else in da world,” he said. 

I rolled my eyes as I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “You’ve been here long enough to know how to drive on the right side of the road.”

“I’ll have ya know,” he said with a smirk, “I’m perfectly capable of driving. But I’ll humor ya this time.” He leaned back in the seat, arms crossed over his chest.

I chuckled, glancing at him before pulling out of the driveway. “If you say so. But I’m not risking a speeding ticket just ‘cause you’ve got some irrational need to drive like you’re still back home.”

“Ya don’t know what you’re missin’,” he teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, Patrick. Just keep that misdirection going,” I said, eyes on the road.

The drive to the shop was quick, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease swirling in my stomach. Tonight was supposed to be a fresh start—a chance to show everyone what I’d been building—but with the club’s tension and everything with EZ, I knew nothing would be simple.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I turned to Patrick. “You gonna behave tonight?”

He gave me a sly grin. “Behave? Me? Never.”

I sighed. "Just keep it low key, alright?"

“In dis bloody town, I stand out no matter where I am,” Patrick said with a smirk, stepping out of my SUV and slamming the door behind him.

I shot him a playful look as I closed my door. “Then use your Irish charm on the ladies to move some product,” I teased, flashing him a grin.

“Dat I can do,” he replied confidently, winking as he held the door open for me. “After all, who could resist a bit o' Irish hospitality?”

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Patrick had an undeniable way with people, especially when it came to the ladies. “Just don’t start making promises you can’t keep,” I warned as I walked past him, heading into the shop.

As I stepped inside, I couldn’t help but admire the place. The showroom was pristine, everything perfectly arranged just as I’d hoped. The polished wood floors gleamed under the soft lights, and the shelves were lined with both the front-of-store items and the more exclusive merchandise. The place had a sophisticated vibe, one that said luxury without trying too hard.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” I said, turning back to Patrick, who was standing at the door surveying the space.

He nodded, scanning the room. “Aye, looks like a place where business gets done. But ya sure about this, lass? Ya really gonna open dis door to people who’ll do whatever it takes ta get what they want?”

“I’ve already opened it,” I responded, my tone more serious now. “No turning back. But I’m prepared to handle whatever comes through that door.”

Patrick was quiet for a moment, his gaze lingering on me. “Just remember, once yer in, it’s hard ta get out,” he said softly, his Irish accent a little thicker in the quieter moment.

“I know,” I said, meeting his eyes. “But this is mine. And no one’s taking it from me.”

Patrick chuckled, his mischievous grin returning. “Aye, I like that fire in ya. Let’s get to work, then. I’ll start schmoozing some customers. Ya know how I do.”

I smiled, watching as he moved toward the front of the store, already turning on the charm. It was always easy for Patrick to slide into that role. I had to focus on the next steps. There was a lot riding on tonight.

I flipped the sign to open. 

It was slow at first. A few passers-by stopping to see what we had to offer. No one was serious. A few bags and shoes were sold. They were surprised that we had stock that some of the more established stores were sold out of. 

I finally felt a sliver of hope that this wasn’t all for nothing when Miguel Gillendo walked through the door. 

“Lovely place you have, Ms. O’Shay,” he said his voice cool and collected. He was flanked by his security detail, Marcus Alverez and another handsome man sporting two braids. 

“Thank you, Mr. Galindo, but please call me Nova,” I said. 

"Nova, it is then," Miguel said smoothly, his gaze flicking over the showroom with calculated interest. His presence immediately filled the room, and the air seemed to shift, his charisma palpable even in the calm of the boutique.

I forced myself to remain composed, though the slight nervous flutter in my chest was hard to ignore. Miguel Galindo was not someone you met every day. He wasn't just wealthy—he was power, wrapped in a tailored suit, with an aura that demanded attention without needing to raise his voice.

"I must say," he continued, his eyes lingering on the exclusive items displayed around the room, "you've managed to curate quite the collection here. Very impressive for a new business."

"Thank you," I replied, gesturing toward the various shelves. "I've worked hard to make sure we offer what others can't. Exclusive, high-end items that meet a certain... standard."

Marcus Alverez, standing slightly to the side, gave a quick once-over of the store before locking eyes with me. There was a coldness in his stare, a warning in how he sized me up. I forced myself not to flinch under his scrutiny.

“And you’ve done well,” Miguel said, his smile both genuine and calculated. “I hear you have quite the... reputation already. Not every new business can say that.”

I smiled, though I felt the weight of his words. "I'm just getting started," I said, meeting his gaze without wavering. "But I do intend to make my mark."

Miguel took a step closer, his presence overwhelming yet somehow oddly magnetic. "I respect that," he said, his voice lowering slightly, “but I’m not here for just the surface-level appeal, Nova. I have business interests that might align with yours, and I think we could help each other.”

The unspoken implications hung between us, thick and heavy. I knew exactly what he was suggesting, and I wasn't sure how far I was willing to go down that road.

“I’m listening,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Good. Let's talk business, then."

“Patrick,” I shot him a knowing glance, “would you mind watching the store while I show our guest our private stock?”

“Aye, lass,” he said leaning in to whisper, “Ya sure about going in der alone wit them?”

“I’ll be fine,” I told him then turned to Miguel, tucking my hand in his arm to lead the way upstairs, “My cousin is a little protective.” I couldn’t blow this. Hopefully, I had something that would be of interest. 

“Are you looking for something particular?” I asked.

Miguel’s arm tensed slightly under my hand, but he didn’t pull away. He simply followed my lead, his gaze drifting around the room as we moved toward the stairs.

“Not yet,” he said smoothly, his voice low, “But I’m always looking for something... rare. Something that stands out.”

I glanced up at him, trying to gauge how much he was truly interested and how much he was testing me. His eyes were unreadable, his expression polite but distant.

We reached the top of the stairs, and I pushed open the door to the VIP showroom. It was a quiet, controlled space, far removed from the bustle of the main floor. Dim lighting highlighted the exclusive merchandise, each piece displayed carefully to evoke a sense of wealth and scarcity. The air was thick with the scent of leather, wood, and luxury.

“Impressive,” Miguel said, his voice betraying a hint of genuine admiration as he looked around. His security detail lingered just outside the door, guarding the stairs and hallway.

I gestured to the sleek glass display cases that held the most exclusive items. “These are my premium offerings,” I said, walking toward one of the displays. “I keep them separate from the regular stock. You won’t find any of this anywhere else.”

I opened the glass case, revealing an assortment of rare watches, limited-edition designer handbags, and a few high-end jewelry pieces. Miguel stepped closer, his eyes scanning each piece with sharp attention.

“You have a fine eye for quality,” he remarked, his tone soft but approving. “But tell me, what makes this different from what I can get elsewhere? Why should I come to you?”

I paused, my hand hovering over one of the more exquisite watches. “Because, Mr. Galindo,” I said, letting the silence stretch for a moment before continuing, “I offer not just products. I offer exclusivity. If you’re looking for something truly rare, something that can’t be found on the open market, then you’re in the right place.”

Miguel’s eyes met mine again, and for a moment, I could feel the weight of his gaze. It was a subtle challenge, but I didn’t back down.

“Your reputation precedes you, Nova,” he said after a beat, his voice now laced with an undertone of something more dangerous. “I think we might be able to do business after all.”

I felt my heart skip a beat. This was it. The moment I’d been working toward.

“Good,” I replied, keeping my voice steady, despite the rush of excitement and nerves that surged through me.

 “Shall we discuss the details?” he asked.

“Of course, have a seat,” I motioned to the chair, then looked at his detail, “Gentlemen, I have some Cuban cigars if you’d like to indulge.”

Miguel’s security detail exchanged quick glances, but the man with the braids gave a slight nod before stepping forward. The other, Marcus Alverez, stayed by the door, arms crossed and eyes scanning the room.

“Thank you,” the man with the braids said, his voice smooth but with an edge, “We’ll take a few.”

I moved toward the cabinet where I’d placed the cigars earlier, and as I retrieved the box, I made sure to take my time. Letting the moment linger gave me space to think, to assess the situation. I needed this to go perfectly. The cigars were a nice touch, but they were just the beginning. I wanted to set the tone, make sure Miguel knew that I wasn’t just here to sell items—I was here to establish a partnership.

As I placed the cigars on the table, Miguel took a seat, leaning back slightly in the chair, his posture relaxed but alert. There was something almost calculating in the way he surveyed the room, taking everything in.

“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “Tell me what you're looking for. And what you're willing to offer in return.”

Miguel took one of the cigars, examining it briefly before lighting it with the flick of a gold lighter. The room filled with the rich scent of tobacco, and he blew out a slow puff of smoke before answering.

“I’m looking for access to rare markets,” he said, his voice low and steady. “The kinds of things that can’t be obtained easily—if at all—without the right connections. What I offer in return is the muscle, the reach, and the resources of the Gilendo family. You don’t have to worry about your suppliers or your competition once you’re in with us.”

I let the offer sink in, feeling the weight of his words. It was more than just goods—Miguel was offering protection, a network. Something that would give me the edge I needed in this world. But I couldn’t just take his word for it. I had to know more, see how far he was willing to go.

“And what’s the catch?” I asked, keeping my tone even, my face neutral.

His lips twitched into a small, almost amused smile. “No catch. Just business. But understand this, Nova—business isn’t always pretty. Things will get messy. If you’re going to work with us, you have to be prepared for that.”

I nodded slowly, studying him carefully. “I’m no stranger to messes.”

He chuckled softly, taking another drag from his cigar. “Good. I like that. Alright, let’s talk numbers.”

The conversation moved on to specifics—how we’d exchange goods, the terms of payment, and the protection his people would offer. I could feel the tension shift in the room, as the air became more charged with possibility. This was the beginning of something big, something dangerous, but also incredibly profitable.

As we hashed out the details, I could sense Miguel was trying to gauge me just as much as I was assessing him. There was an unspoken understanding between us now—an understanding that this business could be mutually beneficial... as long as both of us played our cards right.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Galindo,” I said, my voice smooth as we descended the stairs. “And please, let your wife know we can source anything she might desire.”

I paused for a moment, leaning in just enough so only he could hear. “Or, if you need something for not your wife,” I continued, a playful edge to my tone, “that can be arranged too. We pride ourselves on discretion, after all.”

Miguel’s lips twitched into a slight smile, his gaze sharp as he met mine. “I’ll be sure to pass along the message,” he said, the unspoken understanding clear between us.

Marcus lingered in the store after Miguel and the guard with braids walked out the front door. 

“Have you spoken to Bishop?” he asked me.

“I just know he’s dealing with club business,” I told him, “but I’m sure you know he didn’t give me specifics.”

“He may need you to be there for him,” he told me.

“I’m always there for him,” I responded. Though I didn’t tell him how Bishop had been pushing me away. 

“His son’s anniversary is today,” Marcus said. I nodded. Though I didn’t know that today had any significance. I knew Bishop had a son who died in a car crash when he was still married to Antonia. But Bishop didn’t share that, I learned it from Taza. When he tried explaining Bishop’s sudden change in mood over the last few weeks. 

Marcus’s words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken history. I swallowed, trying to keep my face neutral as I processed what he’d said.

“I’m sorry,” I replied softly. “I didn’t know.”

Marcus nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the door where Miguel and the others had just exited. “Not many do. It’s not something Bishop talks about much. But it weighs on him, especially today.”

I took a deep breath, trying to shake the tension that had been growing between us. I hadn’t realized how much I didn’t know about Bishop’s past, how much he kept locked away.

“I’ll be there for him, Marcus,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Even if he won’t let me in right now, I’ll still be there.”

Marcus’s expression softened, just for a second, before he masked it with a steely look. “He’ll need you. Whether he admits it or not.”

I nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll make sure to check in.”

With that, Marcus gave a small grunt of acknowledgment before turning to leave, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing through the shop.

As I stood there, staring at the empty space they’d left, my thoughts lingered on Bishop. I didn’t know how much longer he could keep pushing me away. But I’d be there for him. Especially when he needed me most.

I flipped the sign to Closed and locked the door behind them. I waited until their car pulled away before turning to Patrick. Smile wide on my face, “Holy fucking shit!” 

Patrick raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my sudden excitement. “Dat good, huh?”

I couldn’t help but grin even wider, adrenaline still buzzing through me. “That was everything I needed it to be. We’ve got their interest, Patrick. We’re in.”

He chuckled, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed. “So, what’s da next step? Dis is just da beginning, right?”

I nodded, the weight of it all settling in. “Yeah. We’ve got their trust now, and that's everything. They’ll be back. But we need to keep moving, keep showing them we’ve got more to offer.” I paused, looking out the window as if the world outside had suddenly changed. “I can’t let this slip. Not now.”

Patrick’s gaze softened, a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. “Ya know, lass, dis is dangerous. What we’re gettin’ into... it’s deeper than either of us planned for.”

I didn’t break eye contact with him. “I know. But we’re already in it, Patrick. No turning back now. If this is gonna work, we need to stay ahead of everyone else.”

He nodded, his expression hardening. “I got yer back, always. Just don’t lose yer head, yeah?”

I took a deep breath, letting the gravity of the situation sink in. "I won’t. But we’ve come too far to play it safe now. Let’s see how deep we can go."

With that, Patrick clapped me on the back, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Dis is gonna get interesting."

—-----------------

I stared at my phone, the screen dark and silent in my hand. Bishop had shut me out completely. Again.

Patrick sat at the counter, sipping a glass of whiskey while flipping through a magazine like he wasn’t sitting in the middle of my growing storm.

“Well?” he finally asked, not bothering to look up. “Ya gonna tell me what’s got ya starin’ at that phone like it owes ya money?”

I set it down with a sharp exhale. “Stockton hit them. Ramos is dead.”

That got his attention. He closed the magazine and leaned forward, the teasing edge gone. “And Bishop?”

“Still breathing, but he’s not talking to me.” My fingers drummed against the counter. “Hank told me enough to put the pieces together. If he plays this right, there’s only one man left standing between him and running the entire club.”

Patrick let out a low whistle. “So he’s got power on da mind, then.”

“He always has,” I admitted. “But now? It’s right there for the taking.”

“And where does that leave ya, lass?”

I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t know. I’d always been by Bishop’s side, but lately, that space had been getting colder, more distant. If he became the sole King, would he push me further away? Or would he finally need me in ways he never had before?

Patrick watched me, reading the hesitation in my face. “Power changes people, Nova. Hope ya know what ya signed up for.”

I smirked, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “I always do.”

I tucked my phone in my back pocket the only other person I wanted to talk to, I shouldn’t want to talk to. So I let my better judgment win. 

“You want to go with me to the clubhouse?” I quirked a brow.

“No t’anks, between yer man staring me down and dat tall motha fucker eyeing ya like you’re a Christmas ham, I’m good. I don’t feel like gettin’ into a fight today,” he responded. 

“Are you sure you’re really Irish?” I teased. “I could take you over to Vicki’s maybe you can spend some time with one of the ladies.”

“Ya tryin’ ta get rid o’me?” he smirked.

“I’m trying to get you laid,” I told him. 

Patrick chuckled, shaking his head as he took another sip of whiskey. “I appreciate da thought, but I don’t need ya playin’ matchmaker. I can get meself laid just fine.”

I smirked. “So you admit you need it.”

“I didn’t say dat.” He pointed at me with the rim of his glass. “But if ya insist on settin’ me up, at least pick one dat won’t rob me blind or stab me in me sleep.”

“That narrows the options considerably,” I mused. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the counter. “Go on, get outta here. Go check on yer man, see if he’s still brooding in a corner somewhere.”

I grabbed my keys but hesitated for half a second before tucking them into my palm. Maybe Bishop would be at the clubhouse. Maybe he’d actually talk to me. Or maybe I was just running toward another dead end.

Patrick noticed my pause, his gaze sharp. “Ya sure ya wanna go down dis road, lass?”

I plastered on a smirk. “What’s life without a little bad decision-making?”

“Fair point,” he said, lifting his glass in a mock toast. “Try not ta get into too much trouble, eh?”

“No promises,” I said over my shoulder, pushing out the door.

When I pulled through the clubhouse gates, the lot was packed with bikes I didn’t recognize. Another club was here.

Angel’s bike roared in behind me, his tires crunching against the gravel as he swung his leg over the seat.

I watched him for a moment before asking, “Do you know what the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” he muttered.

I scanned the porch and frowned. “Why is Steve out here?”

“Fuck if I know,” Angel grumbled.

I shot him a look. “Am I gonna get more than four-word answers from you?”

“Stop askin’ dumb fuckin’ questions then,” he snapped.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention to the prospect sitting on the porch, lost in his own world. “Hey, Steve?”

He didn’t react.

Angel huffed and kicked his foot. “What the fuck, Steve? She was talkin’ to you.”

Steve startled, blinking up at us like he just realized we were there. “Oh. Hey, Angel. Nova.”

I crossed my arms. “Why are you out here?”

Steve swallowed hard. “Conche took Ibarra’s patch. He can’t go in the Templo. They sent me out so they could have their meeting in the clubhouse.” His voice was shaky, like he was carrying a weight he didn’t know how to hold.

“Fuck,” Angel muttered before turning to me. “Stay here.”

I rolled my eyes and dropped onto the porch beside Steve. “Right. He-Man Woman Hater’s Club meeting.”

Angel didn’t respond, just pushed through the doors and disappeared inside.

The meeting ended, and I followed Steve through the doors, my steps measured, my expression carefully neutral.

I gave polite smiles and nods to the visiting Presidents and their men. They returned the courtesy, all business—respectful but distant. It was expected.

What I hadn’t expected, what still managed to cut deeper than I’d ever admit, was the absence of warmth from Bishop.

No hand on my thigh. No soft kiss on my cheek. Not even a look that lasted longer than a second.

I could have been any of the girls that hung around the clubhouse, and he wouldn’t have treated me any differently.

I was fucking exhausted of it.

I understood the weight of what he was dealing with. I never expected to be his first priority, not with what was happening in the club. But that didn’t mean he had to shut me out completely.

And yet, that was exactly what he was doing.

Pushing me further and further away.

And I was starting to wonder if there was even a way back.

I should have driven home. I told myself I would. I even made it halfway there before my hands turned the wheel on their own, leading me somewhere else entirely.

Now, I stood on Angel’s doorstep, my heart pounding against my ribs.

He opened the door, his expression unreadable, but his eyes told a different story. Tired. Worn down. Just as lost as I felt.

“What are you doing here, Malibu?” His voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in a while.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to be alone.” I searched his face, watching the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers twitched at his side. “I know you don’t either.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something unspoken. He hesitated just a beat before he exhaled sharply, stepping back.

“Alright.” He held the door open, and I walked inside.

I sank down on his worn sofa, he handed me a beer and then sat down beside me.

“I’m shit company,” he said, “just so you know.” 

“You’re here,” I told him, “that’s all I need right now.” 

Angel let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he took a swig from his beer. “That desperate for company, huh?”

I shrugged, running my fingers along the condensation of my bottle. “I just—” I paused, exhaling. “I just didn’t want to be in that house, waiting for another call that’s never coming.”

His jaw clenched, and he nodded like he understood. Maybe he did.

We sat there in the quiet, the hum of the fridge in the kitchen the only sound between us.

After a moment, he sighed. “Shit’s fucked.”

“Yeah.” I took a sip. “It really is.”

His fingers tapped against his bottle, like he was debating saying something else, but instead, he just leaned back, sinking into the couch.

The TV hummed in the background, some mindless show neither of us was paying attention to. Angel’s hand found mine, his calloused fingers rough against my palm. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to. I wanted to feel something real, something solid to hold onto when everything else felt like it was slipping through my fingers.

“Do you want me to call Nails?” he asked.

“No,” I said softly. “Would just make it more complicated.”

“It’s already fucking complicated.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he murmured. “It’s just the shit we do to get through it.”

I squeezed his hand, grounding myself in the warmth of his touch. His thumb traced slow circles against my skin, and for the first time all night, I felt steady. It was reckless, maybe even selfish, but I didn’t care. Not right now.

Angel exhaled, his breath warm in the space between us. “You gonna regret this in the morning?”

I thought about it. About Bishop. About the way he shut me out. How I felt invisible, like I was screaming into a void and no one was listening. Then I thought about Angel—the way his fingers curled around mine like he wasn’t afraid to hold on. The way he looked at me, like he actually saw me.

I shook my head. “No.”

His dark eyes searched mine, like he was trying to decide if I really meant it.

“Good,” he finally said, his voice rough. Then he pulled me closer.

I rested my hand on his face, feeling the warmth of his skin, the light scratch of his stubble beneath my fingertips. I leaned in, brushing my lips against his, soft at first—a question more than a demand. But the second his lips moved against mine, heat flared low in my stomach, coiling tight.

Angel didn’t hesitate. His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair as he deepened the kiss. There was nothing tentative about it now—just hunger, desperation, the unspoken understanding that we were crossing a line we couldn’t uncross.

I didn’t care.

I shifted closer, my free hand fisting the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as if that could steady me against the storm raging inside me. His mouth was hot, insistent, stealing the breath from my lungs. His fingers skimmed down my spine, igniting sparks beneath my skin.

The kiss broke just long enough for him to yank my shirt up over my head, the air cool against my fevered skin. My breath hitched when his gaze dragged over me, dark and unreadable before he pulled his own shirt off, baring the inked lines of his chest.

His lips crashed into mine again, his weight pressing me back against the couch, the leather cool beneath my overheated skin.

“Angel,” I murmured against his mouth.

“Fuck, querida, please don’t tell me to stop,” he rasped, his voice thick with want.

“I don’t want you to stop,” I admitted, my fingers digging into his shoulders, “but your couch is digging into my back.”

He huffed a breathless laugh, his lips quirking into a smirk as he stood, pulling me up with him. “You’re such a fucking princess.”

His hands slid down to my thighs, gripping them as he lifted me with ease. My legs wrapped around his waist, my fingers tangling in his hair as he carried me toward the bedroom, the heat between us burning too bright to stop now.

We tumbled onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath our weight. My breath came in shallow gasps as Angel’s body pressed into mine, the heat between us almost unbearable. The barrier of our clothes was maddening, a frustrating tease against the hunger pooling low in my belly.

My fingers skimmed down his stomach, feeling the taut muscles tense beneath my touch. I fumbled with his belt, the metal buckle cool against my heated skin, then popped the button of his jeans. My hand slipped inside, finding him thick, hard—hot against my palm.

Angel groaned, his breath hitching as my fingers wrapped around him. His lips moved along my neck, warm and demanding, licking and sucking the sensitive skin. Each flick of his tongue sent shivers racing down my spine. I knew he was leaving a mark, a dark bloom that would linger long after this moment—but right now, I didn’t care.

I tightened my grip, stroking him slowly, relishing the way his body tensed above me. He exhaled a curse against my skin, his breath hot and ragged.

“Fuck, querida,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost reverent.

His hands roamed my body, sliding beneath the waistband of my jeans, fingertips teasing against bare skin. My pulse pounded, every nerve alive with anticipation, every touch sparking something deep and undeniable between us.

I wanted more. Needed more.

And from the way Angel’s hands gripped my hips, the way his mouth moved against mine, desperate and unrelenting—so did he.

His hands moved to the button of my jeans, undoing it with practiced ease. The soft rasp of the zipper sent a thrill down my spine. He tugged them down my legs, his fingers skimming my inner thigh, barely there, yet enough to make me shiver.

Warm breath fanned against my stomach as he pressed slow, deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin, each one a spark igniting the fire already smoldering inside me. His tongue flicked out, tasting me, teasing me, dragging soft sighs from my lips.

“Angel,” I moaned, my fingers gripping the sheets, desperate for more, desperate for him.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, a sound dark and knowing. “Patience, princesa,” he murmured, the promise in his voice making my stomach tighten.

My breath hitched as he nipped at my hipbone, the sharp sting soothed by the heat of his tongue. His hands traced slow, maddening patterns on my thighs, his touch featherlight. I reached for him, tangling my fingers in his hair, urging him lower, needing him where I ached most.

“Please.”

Angel didn’t make me wait any longer. His lips brushed against my core, his tongue flicking against me, hot and insistent. A sharp gasp tore from my throat as pleasure jolted through me, my body arching off the bed.

He worked me with a skill that left me trembling, licking slow and deep before teasing me with shallow, teasing strokes. Every flick, every swirl sent me spiraling higher, my hips rocking against his mouth as he pulled me apart piece by piece.

The tension coiled inside me, winding tighter, tighter, until I was shaking, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Nothing else existed—only his mouth, his hands, the unbearable pleasure pushing me toward the edge.

And then, with a cry, I shattered, pleasure washing over me in waves so intense I could barely breathe.

Angel’s chuckle was muffled against my skin, the low vibration sending delicious aftershocks through me. His lips traced a slow path up my body, lingering over my ribs, my collarbone, the hollow of my throat. Each kiss, each teasing flick of his tongue, left me aching for more.

I forced my heavy-lidded eyes open, finding him staring down at me, a smug, knowing smile curving his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“Mm,” I managed, still breathless. “I’m okay.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine, soft at first, then deeper, tasting me, pulling me back under.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice dripping with promise. His dark eyes burned into mine as his fingers traced lazy circles on my hip. “Because I’ve got a feeling you’re going to be screaming my name all night long.”

“You’re pretty fucking cocky,” I teased, my voice still uneven.

Angel smirked, his breath warm against my ear as he leaned in. “I’ve got a reason to be,” he murmured, his tone laced with wicked amusement. “I haven’t even fucked you yet, and you’re already trembling.”

My cheeks flushed, but I couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Heat surged through me, pooling low in my belly, making me ache for him.. He felt it too—I knew it by the way his hand slid up, cupping my breast, his thumb grazing over the hardened peak.

A soft moan escaped my lips as my back arched into his touch, silently begging for more. His smirk deepened, dark and knowing. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice like a slow drag of whiskey. “So fucking responsive.”

Before I could say anything else, his mouth was on me, tongue swirling around my nipple, the wet heat sending shivers down my spine. His other hand toyed with my other breast, fingers teasing, tugging, making me squirm beneath him.

I gasped, my hips pressing up against him, only to groan in frustration at the feel of denim where I wanted bare skin. Where I needed him. My hands roamed the broad expanse of his back, nails scraping lightly as I reached down, fumbling to push his jeans down, desperate to feel all of him.

He raised up, pushing his jeans and boxers off in on fluid motion before settling back between my thighs. I could feel his thickness pressing against my thigh. The anticipation was almost too much. I reached down to stroke him again, feeling the velvety skin over his steel rod. He groaned, his hips jerking slightly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his head dropping against my shoulder for a moment before he pulled back, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “You keep that up, princessa, and this is gonna be over before I even get inside you.”

I trailed my hand back up his body, feeling every ripple and flex of muscle beneath my fingertips. My nails scraped lightly over his skin, savoring the heat of him. “Then stop fucking teasing me,” I breathed, locking my legs tighter around his waist. “And fuck me.”

A wicked grin spread across his lips. “You are so goddamn bossy,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. His hand gripped my thigh, fingers sinking into my flesh as he positioned himself at my entrance.

Then he drove into me—hard and deep, a single thrust that stole the breath from my lungs.

The sensation of him stretching me, filling me completely, was unbearable in the best way. A choked gasp escaped me as he pulled back and slammed into me again, relentless, each stroke knocking the air from my chest. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, desperate for something to hold on to as pleasure wracked my body.

His mouth found mine in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue, as if he could devour the need radiating between us. His lips traced my jaw, my throat, before his teeth scraped over my collarbone, leaving marks I knew I’d feel tomorrow.

I moaned, the heat inside me coiling tighter as I squeezed around him, pulling him deeper. He growled in response, his hips snapping forward in a brutal rhythm that sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling through me.

The world narrowed down to the friction between us—the way he moved, the way his body felt against mine, the way every thrust sent me spiraling higher. My moans grew louder, unrestrained, my body writhing beneath him as he pushed me right to the edge.

Then the coil inside me snapped. A cry tore from my throat as waves of pleasure crashed over me, my body clenching around him in uncontrollable spasms.

But he didn’t stop.

His pace never faltered, dragging out every ounce of pleasure until I shattered all over again.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his movements growing more erratic as he chased his own release. His grip on me tightened, his breath ragged against my skin. Then, with one final thrust, he buried himself deep and let go, a low, broken sound spilling from his lips as he came.

We stayed like that for a moment, bodies tangled, skin slick with sweat, the only sound in the room was our heavy breathing.

Then, finally, Angel collapsed beside me, his arm draping over my waist, his lips brushing lazily against my shoulder. “Told you,” he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction. “You’d be screaming my name all night.”

“You’re such a dick,” I chuckled softly.

“You like my dick you mean,” he responded. 

“No, I meant what I said,” I replied.

“Stop playing,” he pulled me to his chest, his chin resting on my shoulder.

“Who would ever believe that badass biker Angel Reyes likes to spoon,” I teased. 

He huffed against my skin, his breath warm on my neck. “Shut up.”

I smirked, wiggling a little closer just to mess with him. “It’s kinda sweet, though.”

“You telling people and ruining my reputation, princesa?”

I laughed softly, tracing lazy circles on the arm he had wrapped around me. “Maybe. Might just have to let the whole club know that Angel Reyes is a big ol’ softie behind closed doors.”

He growled playfully, tightening his grip around me. “You do that, and I’ll make sure you can’t walk straight for a week.”

A shiver ran through me at the promise in his voice. “Big talk,” I murmured.

His teeth grazed my shoulder. “You know I back it up.”

I bit my lip to suppress a smile, “Yeah, yeah, but you’re still spooning.”

“Don’t press your luck, Malibu.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I wiggled my hips sinking more into him. 

[noxiatoxia]

ok i do think ive talked abt this here before maybe ? either way here i go again. i actually do really like hinanami. my top 5 hajime ships (dont make me order them ill kill myself) are hinamiki, komahina, hinanami, kazuhina, and hinadam and i like em all for very very different reasons. and in different ways. but im soooo ngl hinanami is the hardest one for me to explain bc the way i enjoy that ship (and by proxy komahinanami) so soo complicated n nobody i think shares my very weirdly specific idea.

to me. chiaki has aspd. and i wouldnt say is asexual just sex with other ppl is not on her top 20 most important things list. she is aromantic tho. ok this is where the noxia projection stops but to me hinanami is like....hajime maybe gets a crush on her. ok. hes attracted to her bluntness and bc shes an emotionally stunted woman and if youve read up on the hajime lore its clear hajime has some psychosexual freudian thing happening where he is exclusively into women who express the desire/ability to harm or abuse him. so chiaki's being ASPD queen is like. hajime mental illness fetishizer number uno 🇧🇷 and chiaki likes hajime fine enough. hes kind of pathetic to her but its in a cute puppy way. hes easy 2 talk 2 and hang with. and idk i wanr her to dominate him leave me alone. but also i think like longterm this shit would not work out bc hajime would realize oh my god i am turning my trauma into fetishes and chiaki would honestly i think get irritated with hajime at a point like.........hes very emotional and empathetic..........only so mucy of dat she can handle..........so shes like i think we should just be Friends and hajime is hurt but accepts it we move. but in komahinanami chiaki is the friends w/benefits slash cuckchair fujoshi except she doesnt even care abt hajime and komaeda fuckijg she would be playing resident evil in the background. but shes like their support animal they keep around bc she keeps them in fucking check. and sometimes hajime wants to get freaky (WHO CAN BLAME HIM !??!) and komaeda idk he's chill im sure they kiss sometimes maybe if they're bothered enough to. idkkk..........also dr3 isnt canon 2 me for Reasons (froths at mouth) so im just saying this is all based off of sdr2 lads. weesnaw

[idkhowtoname]

Commission details

but idk how to price things and render (help)

very long list C:

Traditional comms:

bust - $2

waist up - $4

full body - $5

(+$2 for color)

Digital comms:

Sketch

Bust - $5

Waist up - $7

Full body - $9

Line art:

Bust - $10

Waist up - $12

Full body - $15

Colored:

Bust - $14

Waist up - $16

Full body - $19

(+$2 for some shadows and highlights)

Extra stuff:

+$5 for every extra person

Flat color - free :D

Pattern/glow around character - $2

Gradient - $3

not too detailed background (like a simple sunset or smthn) - $7

(can't do too detailed backgrounds sorry :C)

Small / simple props (cups, mics, etc.) - $1

Big / complex props (swords, scythes, etc.) - $5

Will do:

blood

ship art (non-controversial or problematic)

people!! (I'll try my best to draw chubbier fellas :D)

Won't do:

mecha :[

NSFW

anything to harrass or discriminate people

no proshipping. if you're a proshipper get the hell off my blog.

Unsure (ask):

suggestive

gore

animals (depends)

PAYMENT!!! MONEIII!!!!

not very familiar with paypal but I'll try my best :]

and *maybe* tf2 keys but you'd have to help me with trading a bit since I don't really do dat,,,,,,

Communication:

You can dm me on tumblr or discord but discord is prefered since I will be able to respond sooner because of notifs! My discord is the.eeper

DISCLAIMER!!

I CAN refuse service to anyone I wish. The reason may be: it is too difficult for me, out of my skill set, out of my comfort zone, goes against one of my personal commission rules, etc. I will make sure to tell you if that is the case.

If you would like updates on the drawing/s I will send them to you as soon as possible! And I will try to respond whenever I can whether it is dming me for a drawing or asking for updates!!

And remember to not be shy! I also get scared of strangers but I will be more comfortable the more we talk or know eachother! (I may be nervous if you're popular/I find you cool and stuff like that)

Let me know if I should fix anything on the sheet! I will always try my best to improve and make sure you like your drawing! Thank you! Have a great day/night silly goober!! :D

[thwipsthrown]

"Now, here's de t'ing. Bella Donna is all de t'ings you say she is. I ain't got no arguments dere. Maybe she try t'kill me 'bout it later." He finishes the game of solitaire he was playing before looking back up at the other.

"But we was friends once. Lovers, husband 'n wife. 'N we did plan t'have children. We was too young, babies havin' babies 'n all, but she ain't neva shown herself t'be dangerous to kids. Committin' murder for a livin' -- you make it sound like she ain't have a moral code."

A head tilt, curious. Amused. "Fuckin' wit' me nowadays 's how she shows affection. Better dat 'n tryin' t'win me back."

He does miss those days, some times. The days of his youth, where all he needed to worry about was marrying Bella and making it work. But without it, he wouldn't be where he is now, with Anna Marie and Robin at his side. Would still have been trying to be something he's not -- and this time, he's not talking about being a Thief or an Assassin.

"Ain't know she died 'til later, but she's livin' now, 'n now she'll get t'meet them. 'N dat's how it should be."

anon sent Y'know what, sure, while we're going down the list, let's talk about Bella. You really plan on letting that crazy bitch around your children? There's such a thing as being too forgiving, especially when it comes to someone who commits murder for a living--and fucks with you for fun, apparently. She's always only been out for herself and revenge, maybe not in that order. I doubt dying made her any more sane, either. // talk shit about someone my muse knows! (accepting)

ft. @auroradicit

[nokomiss]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Thanks for passing this to me, @secretlystephaniebrown! This was SO HARD. I went with current faves, since all-time favorites was too difficult. I've written way too many fics, just picking out five was a real challenge, and I didn't even touch on some major fandoms or some fics that were really important to me. But here's my list!

The Startling Secret Identity of The Batman - (10k, T, Gen) In-universe Buzzfeed Unsolved accidentally stumbles on Batman’s secret identity. The Batfam reacts.

I wrote this fic so fast, like it just suddenly appeared on the screen, and I'm still delighted with how it turned out.

The Haunting of Wayne Manor - (31k, T, Steph/Cass, Gothic horror AU) Stephanie Brown arrives at Wayne Manor to be governess to Bruce Wayne’s young son, Damian. Once there, she begins to suspect the manor is a place shrouded in darkness and secrets, where the shadows seem to follow her, where doors lock mysteriously and questions go unanswered. And most dreadfully of all, her own secrets are just as likely to catch up to her and bring her to ruin.

All my love for gothic horror was thrown into this fic, and I'm really happy with how it turned out.

in this town of halloween - (3.8k, G, Gen) The Riddler takes ten-year-old Steph trick-or-treating, and Steph honestly has the best time ever.

Okay so I had to limit myself to ONE fic centered around Stephanie Brown's Unconventional Childhood, because that is absolutely a theme I keep going back to. There's just so much untapped potential! But this is the one I ultimately chose, because it's light and fun and I just loved the mental images that inspired it.

those wild charms for you - (5k, T, Steph/Jason) “So you’re saying we should go on a fake date and catch a serial killer so that we can have the moral high ground over Bruce,” Jason said. “Just to be clear. That’s what you’re suggesting.”

listen i love this pairing so much. I have so much fun writing them. And this one has the bonus of being one of my favorite tropes!

our lips are sealed - (B99/MCU crossover, 5k, T, Gina Linetti/Steve Rogers) When Gina started talking about how Captain America moved in next door to her, complete with a rap breakdown including the lines, "with his glorious American-made booty, it's a star-spangled thing of beauty," and how she was initiating a five-step plan to tap dat, the precinct just assumed that Captain America was a nickname for whatever unfortunate hottie made a real estate blunder and ended up her neighbor.

This fic has the honor of being one I can reread without cringing, and it even makes me laugh. I feel like I got the voices right, even though this is my only foray into B99 fic.

[olddirtybadfic]

You Got Played: This Wouldn't Have Happened if They'd Brought Their Duel Disks (Part Four of Five)

All the drama in this fic and not one card game. Did teen!me even understand this show?

Part one is here. Part two is here. Part three is here.

This fic contains: Teen!me laboring under the delusion that Bandit Keith is the same age as Yugi and company; song lyrics inserted into the prose; mpreg; Bandit Keith being a prick; all the characters are kind of idiots; author’s notes to give track listings; cheating; Noah Kaiba somehow being alive and bizarrely invested in his brother’s romantic life; Yami/Atem is corporeal for some reason; Yugi and friends go all Office Space fax machine on Bandit Keith; the 2004 is strong with this one

-O-o-O-o-O-

The next day, Mokuba noticed that Kaiba didn’t seem to be “completely there.” It was as if Kaiba was under a trance of sorts. He barely spoke, slept or ate.

And he didn’t smile. Not even a trace of a smirk could be seen on his face.

Noah hadn’t noticed because he was out, trying to get rid of his anger toward Keith.

Mokuba entered Kaiba’s room. “Seto, what’s wrong? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Kaiba said, coldly.

“Seto, I know something’s wrong and it has to do with Bandit Keith. I’m gonna find out sooner or later, so you might as well just tell me now.”

Kaiba sighed. “Noah was right. I couldn’t tell that Keith was cheating on me. But now I see how he did it. We only went out during the night, so he could cheat in the daytime. When we did go out, we went to places where there weren’t a lot of people, so no one would see him cheating. He also made me keep it a secret so no one would know and be able to tell his girlfriend.”

“So, when are you gonna break up with him?” Mokuba asked.

“That’s the problem. I can’t,” Kaiba answered.

“Why not?”

“I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I just can’t, Mokuba!”

“You have to dump him because he cheated on you, Seto! Why won’t you tell me why you can’t?!”

“I can’t because I’m pregnant with his child, Mokuba! I can’t dump him while I’m having his child!” To Mokuba’s surprise, Kaiba’s eyes started to tear up.

“Seto….You never cry,” Mokuba said, shocked, while Kaiba wiped his nose.

“Who says I’m crying?” Kaiba punched the wall and began wiping his eyes.

Mokuba started to hug Kaiba as Kaiba continued to cry. “Don’t worry, Big Brother. Everything’ll be all right, somehow.”

Meanwhile, Noah was taking a walk. He was still fuming about Keith’s actions.

“How could he do that to Seto?! He was the perfect boyfriend towards Keith. How could he hurt my little brother like that?!” Noah thought angrily.

It just so happened that Yugi, Joey, Yami, and Tristan were walking down the same street as Noah. Yugi and Joey had told Yami and Tristan about what Keith had done to Kaiba and they were just as pissed.

Noah met up with the four other boys.

“Keith is a sorry-assed cheater,” Yami declared.

“Yeah. He’s the lowest of the low for playing with Kaiba like that,” Tristan added.

“We should make him pay,” Yugi said in a low, ominous voice.

“Y’know, Yuge, you don’t sound so freaky sayin’ dat anymore,” Joey commented.

As they were walking down the street, Keith came along and practically pushed them all down, saying, “Outta my way, bitches!”

“Hey! You can’t just go around, knockin’ guys ova like dat!” Joey yelled. “And we’re not finished cussin’ you out ova Kaiba!”

Joey, Yami, Tristan, and Noah dragged Keith into a deserted alley while Yugi followed them slowly and eerily, like a stalker following his victim.

“I already said stay the fuck out my business! It’s none of your business whether I cheat on Kaiba or not!” Keith shouted.

“Actually, it became our business when Yugi and Joey told us how they caught you making out with that girl,” Yami said.

“It became my business when you decided to toy with my little brother’s heart!” Noah yelled.

Keith stepped into Yugi’s space. “What about you, little Yugi? When did this become your business?” he taunted.

“The minute you laid your disgusting hands on Kaiba.” Yugi’s voice was eerily calm.

“What does my touching Kaiba have anything to do with you? He was nothing but a whore to me. He was just someone to do when I got bored with Kyra,” Keith sneered.

Yugi was enraged.

“You hurt Kaiba. Now you must pay,” Yugi said.

Yugi, Yami, Noah, Joey, and Tristan descended upon Keith the way a flock of vultures descends upon a carcass and began to beat him like a rented mule. Both Joey and Tristan tackled Keith to the ground. As he tried to get up, Noah kicked him in the shins and knocked him down again. Both Joey and Tristan began to smack and backhand Keith upside his face. Noah started to punch Keith in one of his arms. Keith was now on all fours. Yami began to kick Keith’s butt—literally and repeatedly. Yugi began to kick Keith in his thighs, screaming.

“Seto Kaiba is NOT YOUR WHORE!! HE IS A HUMAN BEING WITH FEELINGS AND YOU HURT THEM! I HATE YOUR STUPID ASS!! I HOPE YOU GO TO HELL!!” Yugi screamed, beginning to punch Keith in his other arm.

Kaiba had decided that he should take a walk to clear his mind. He was walking through the streets of Domino when he heard Keith shouting and Yugi screaming, along with the others.

He stealthily dashed into the alley, following the screaming. At the sight of the five boys beating Keith down, his blue eyes grew wide with horror.

The five boys (and Keith) stopped carrying on and looked up at Kaiba in pure shock. They didn’t expect him to come and find them like this.

Kaiba looked as if he was about to shout, but they couldn’t get a closer look because as swiftly and as quietly as a young deer, Kaiba ran out of there.

“Kaiba, wait! We’re sorry!” Yugi tried to call, but Kaiba only kept running, his long, white trenchcoat flowing behind him.

The other four boys only looked at each other, then continued to beat Keith down.

“WAIT!” Yugi cried out.

The boys looked up.

“This isn’t right! We shouldn’t be hurting Keith,” Yugi said.

“But, Yuge, he hurt Kaiba. We hafta get him back,” Joey said.

“And I have to avenge Seto,” Noah said.

“But two wrongs don’t make a right; we need to help Kaiba through this, but not stand here and fight,” Yugi said.

“That sounds vaguely like Dr. Seuss,” Yami commented.

“Guys, did you see the look on Kaiba’s face? We only upset him even more by doing this.”

They all looked at each other, reluctant to agree. But soon, they realized that Yugi was right.

“All right, Bandit Keith. You can go now. But if I ever see you lay your filthy hands on Seto again, we’re just gonna end up here again,” Noah warned.

Keith walked (or limped) out of there.

Meanwhile, Yugi had run off to catch up with Kaiba.

“If I had known this was wrong earlier, I wouldn’t have encouraged it,” Yugi thought. “Now all I wanna do is tell Kaiba how sorry I am.”

‘It’s like I missed a shot, It’s like I dropped the ball. Damn, I’m sorry. It’s like I’m on stage, And I forgot the words. Damn, I’m sorry.’

Yugi could see Kaiba’s tall, white-clad figure walking toward the rich neighborhood that he lived in.

‘But I’d apologize a million times before, I’d apologize a million more. So here it comes again, For all the wrong I’ve done. So get ready, babe, Here’s one million one.’ (author's note: Sorry 2004 - Ruben Studdard)

“Kaiba, wait up!” Yugi called.

Kaiba slowed down, but he didn’t stop.

“Kaiba,” Yugi said, catching up, “I really need to talk to you.”

“I can’t talk right now, Yugi.” Kaiba continued to walk.

“But, Kaiba, I need to talk to you about what I did.”

“I saw what you did.”

“Kaiba, I wanted to say that I’m sorry for it. I got mad about what Bandit Keith did to you. I let my anger control me and…and that’s it.”

“I can’t talk about it right now, Yugi. I have to go home.” Kaiba almost sounded tearful.

“But, Kaiba, Keith called you a whore!” Yugi didn’t even realize that he said this until it was too late. “Now I’ve done it,” he thought.

At this point, Kaiba could no longer stand it. He broke into a run. Yugi couldn’t catch up to him.

“Kaiba!” Yugi called, but to no avail. “Great, just great. Now I’ve done it.”

At the mansion, Mokuba was sitting around, doing nothing until he heard the door slam. He went into the foyer, just in time to see Kaiba stomp up the stairs.

“Damn…what happened to him?” Mokuba thought.

In his room, Kaiba sat, feeling confused and angry.

“Why would Keith say such a thing? I don’t go around sleeping with everyone…I hate this whole situation..I wish I had never seen Keith cheating..”

‘I don’t wanna know. If you’re playing me, keep it on the low. `Cause my heart can’t take it any mo’. And if you’re playing games, please don’t let it show. Oh, baby, I don’t wanna know….’ (author's note: I Don't Wanna Know - Mario Winans feat. Enya and P. Diddy (wow what terrible timing))

-O-o-O-

The next day, Kaiba woke up with a new goal: Get Keith back.

“I’m not going to take this lying down. I’m going to get my man back,” Kaiba said as he put on his trenchcoat. Noah was standing just outside his door and he heard Kaiba’s plan.

As Kaiba was walking past the door, Noah said, “You really shouldn’t, Seto.”

Kaiba turned around. “Nobody, not even you, can stop me, Noah.” Then he walked out the door.

He found Keith hanging out in a deserted alley. He snuck up on Keith and cornered him.

From the look in his eyes, Keith could tell that this was not the same Kaiba he had slept with and deflowered. “More Agreeable Kaiba” had reverted back to “Creepy, Cold-Ass Kaibitch” in the few minutes it took him to find Keith. He almost completely reverted back to the way he had been before he made friends with Yugi and company—cold, irritable, and just downright unpleasant.

“So, Keith, how’s your girlfriend? And when did you plan on telling me about her?” Kaiba said in a low, threatening voice. He had Keith pinned to the wall. Keith could feel Kaiba’s fingernails digging into his shoulders.

Keith tried to charm his way out of it. “You’re really feisty today. Did mean, nasty Yugi piss in your cornflakes?” Keith grabbed Kaiba’s ENORMOUS buttcheeks.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF MY ASS!!” Kaiba hollered in Keith’s face. Keith grabbed Kaiba’s shoulders and flung him onto the ground.

Mokuba had followed Kaiba into the alley because Noah had sent him to make sure that Kaiba didn’t get hurt. He ran out from where he had been hiding and yelled, “Hey! You can’t handle Seto like that! He’s-”

“Stay out of this, Mokuba!” Kaiba interrupted. He got to his feet and turned back to Keith. “So why’d you lie to me, Keith?! Why’d you cheat on me after what I’ve done for you?! Do you know that I’m carrying your child?! I know you don’t because you’ve been ignoring me ever since we did it! How could you cheat on me after we had sex?!”

“Listen, Kaiba, it’s nothing personal, but Kyra’s a lot more experienced than you. She’s also a hell of a lot more satisfying,” Keith said.

“So, you’re just going to dump me because I used to be a virgin and because I’m no good in bed. You disgust me. I can’t believe I ever let you lay your filthy hands on me!” Kaiba shouted.

“Will you stop fucking shouting?! Your voice grates on my nerves like sandpaper!” Keith shouted.

Kaiba hauled off and slapped Keith across the face. “That’s for swearing in front of my little brother!” he shouted.

Then he slapped Keith again.

“And that was for getting me knocked up,” Kaiba said quietly. “Come on, let’s go, Mokuba.”

Mokuba followed Kaiba and his long white trenchcoat (and huge butt) out of the alley.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Moral of the story: Instead of violence, solve all your problems with card games.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Advent Day XV ~ In the Lane, Snow is Glistening @lalamoon

Beth had promised Layla that they would do American Christmas with all the bells-and-whistles and in the same way she first experienced it, too. It helps that the morning had dawned cold and grey and wrapped in a blanket of thick fog that obscured city streets, the various harbours, and even most of the Verrazzano bridge. Beth wakes up early enough that she has the kitchen to herself. Though she's never made anything edible, breakfast isn't her purpose for being there. She takes down a specific copper tea pot inscribed with runes and fills it part way with water. She sets it on the stove and takes down a small broom made of hazel stave and birch branches for bristles. It radiates the same sweetness of cinnamon as her breath. She dances with it, not actually sweeping, as the kettle warms and only stops when it begins to whistle. A few moments later, the faint rain outside becomes a light snow fall that will continue until the day after Christmas. 'Tis the season, after all, for a little coincidental storm. By the time Layla makes her appearance ~a little groggy and with curls springing everywhere, which if Beth was honest about it, she's completely envious about it~ Beth is pushing a cup of coffee in her hand and smiling impishly. "So here da kine. We gonna start wi' coffee or chai an' pastries a' my hanai-sistah's shop. You gonna love her, really. We been bes' good friends since her freshman year a' Columbia. Mos' of her stuff is Kosher or Halal an' what no is…make you grateful for a small sin," Beth winks as if that is all the evidence needed. "Den I figure we can go shoppin' at Winter Village an' aftah, ice skating! Or we could skate first den shopping, so we don' leave our stuff unattended. Lunch…den more shoppin' at Union Square Holiday Market. We gonna wanna find dat guy dat sell roasted ches'nuts. Gonna wanna narrow down which of da half-dozen soup kitchens we volunteer at, deliver coats an' presents for da women's shelter in da kitchen, an' we're helpin out Sean Casey an' Social Tees animal rescues. Dey doin' free adoption an' spay-neuter program for da holidays. But really we can do dese t'ings in any order ja'like." She pauses as she reviews her mental list, trying to think if she forgot anything. "Oh, den dere's da big sleep. We do a giant cuddle puddle in da livin' room…right dere…" she points to the eight foot tree by the floor to ceiling windows. Some time during the night Andy had moved most of the furniture to accommodate the variety of air-mattresses, pillows, sleeping bags and blankets that they would all be using. She doesn't remember how or when the tradition started, only that it's been a feature all of her life and not one they were about to put the breaks on. "So if you nevah have pyjamas or some kine to wear, we should get you some or you can borrow a pair of sweats from Jay an' a tee-shirt from Panda…I mean…Andy." Beth pauses to take a breath again. "I t'ink dat's it, but really is up to you, ya know. Wanna make dis da bes' good Chris'mas you can have here."

[serrurie]

Getting Your Life Together: Day 3- Speech And Dignity

Hello, friends!

I hope you've learned to embrace your smile, based on the last post. Are you feeling beautiful yet? You should. If you don't I'll tell you that you're beautiful, and that isn't coming from some random internet person; through God's eyes, we are all beautiful. Let's get into it.

Today is day three of 'Getting Your Life Together: Day 3- Speech And Dignity'. In the comments of this post, before we even dive deeper, just give me a sentence that sounds like how you talk in real life; NOT how you type on the internet, because this is how people talk on the internet:

'bro I did this when I was like 9 lol'

'oop really'

'dat real bad'

(I'm sorry it's so cringy, forgive me). But, you get the idea, right? We're looking for some real-life treatment. Talk to me like you would in real life, not like I'm some stranger you met on TikTok. How do you see me? As an acquaintance, you'd like to know better? As an opponent getting in your way? As a stranger that's already ticking you off? Please, reflect on your comment! It will be crucial to today's post.

See friends, our words do not simply portray our personalities, or where we're from; they also portray how we treat other people in our lives, how we feel on the on the inside. Do you treat yourself with quality? How about others? These are all things that can be found in our speech. And I don't know about you, friends, but I want to sound confident, and valuable when I'm trying to make a friend. So, set down the curse words and pack away the self-diminishing jokes; you are worth so much more than that. So, here are some tips to dignify others and yourself with what you say:

1) No cussing. Cussing is vulgar, and very far away from elegance. I can't see someone going for a 'pink' or 'soft girl' aesthetic saying words that diminish what they're trying to say with a bunch of things a guy at a pub (in a movie) would say. Even if you are going for a different vibe, such as weirdcore or goth, it's more professional and mature to speak without cussing. That being said, don't sound like a five-year-old by using things like 'poopy-head' or 'butt-sandwich'; that just makes you sound childish. Choose words carefully; there are better ways to express yourself that aren't cussing or toddler speech.

2) Be positive. I know, I know; there's just so much to complain about, right? Well, there's a lot to be grateful for, too! Instead of saying, 'My dumb brother hit his head playing football,' say, 'I'm so glad my brother is okay!' I know that positive people may be annoying, but people are also attracted to those who lift them up! So, be that positive person! Lift other people up with kind words and thankful remarks! I recommend making a 'Gratitude List' of all the things you are thankful for.

3) Don't be too loud or quiet. I'll give you two conversations between you and a person. Let's see which one you like:

  a. You: Hi, Tessa! What do you think you're getting here?

      Tessa: OOOOOooooooHHhhHHHHHHhhh! I think that I'M going to get a SCONE! How DELISH! This place is ADORABLEeeeeeeeEEEEEEeeEEEEEeeeeEE!

b. You: Hey, Marie Anne! What do you think you're getting here?

    Marie Anne: Well...uh..maybe a cookie....i. I dunno...

Who would you want to talk to for longer? If you are a normal person, probably neither. This is why it's important to keep a normal, presentable volume. You don't want to be too over-the-top and throw someone off, but you don't want to tick someone off by being too quiet to hear; being too loud makes you seem oblivious, and being too quiet makes you seem underconfident. 

4) Add emotion when you speak. Being monotone makes people want to DIE of boredom when they listen to you. I used to have a teacher who had a HUGE room that left plenty of space for projection and enunciation, but he instead spoke as if he was talking flatly to only one person. He's a nice teacher, no hate, but make sure your voice has a range of vocals. Make sure to move your face, too. This is a personal struggle for me as well; but it's fine, since we can work through it together!

Now, go back to your comment. After reading these tips, do you think you are hospitable? No one should change themselves, because you are all amazing, but as people, we mustn't throw people off; there is light inside of you, and you need it to shine!

Reflection:

Write down a couple of sentences or as much as you like. See how you sound, and practice your sentences in a mirror. Look at your face; does it reveal your emotions? How about your tone; does it move up and down? These are all things to practice, friends. Remember, I'm here with you, every step of the way; remember when you feel embarrassed that I'm doing it too!

I love you!

-Serrurie

[reinereix]

problems :))

my parents have been fighting continuously over extended familial problems and my mom blames it all on me that bcuz of me they are fighting. my dad blames my mom that she doesnt look after me and cuz of dat i score less marks. they have been extra like super extra pressurising me to study but since July ion even feel like and even if i get 45/50 they scold me! my friend scored 46 and compared me to her... my tution teacher told my parents that i dont pay attention in the class nor tuition just because i yawn... and because of that my parents have been extra pressurising me. i dont even get free time.. of my own.. always telling me to study (im in 9th grade). my mom's getting a lot over controlling now. she asked me to delete ig cuz its a "distraction" when its the only one app which makes me feel like yeah im doing well (tho ik im addicted) In July 2023, i once accidentally posted a meme of my teacher (not made by me) on my story and a bitch snitched on me and told her and the teacher complained the principal and she called my dad! and i got real bad scolding in a very harsh tone by my dad i swear... after dat day i have never been the same. they dont even trust me when i say it wasnt me who made it. i lost my appetite... i lost my energy. I WAS JUST WASNT THE SAME. i almost blacked out in the middle of shopping... my mom tells me she should have killed me when i was born. i should have been born as a cow not human and if i was she would have beat me up in the worst possible way. she runs behind me with a heated pressure cooker and knife etc if we even get in an argument. today she picked up my guitar to hit me. before it was a chair. my parents threaten to rot me, lock me up, break my legs, hands etc. my mom says im not worthy to be a human and when i say her the things which she says me she's triggered and wants to hit me. and i cant even justify/explain myself because that's considered talking back. cant shut the door for gods sake. one time it slipped from my mouth that i might be in depression infront of my mum and all she said was "dats why u gotta study" "what pain/sadness do you have? do you not get food? clothing? shelter? do we not provide you with everything you need" my parents forbad me to take part in any extra curricular activities and forcing me to take part in quizes and what not, like debates? competition regarding intellect which ive absolutely no interest in...plus watching yt explanation videos is also not allowed atm DUDE IM SO DONE.. i cant even visit my friends, nor go out w them... i cant even tell my dad im using insta...i cant even tell them ab my male friends, cant even introduce my male seniors (who are like my brothers) to them, cant invite them over either...its an unending list.. i wished to write more but nvm! thanks for reading :) i hope you are having an amazing day/night <3 with regards - T ps im from India

[sammythelibrarian]

I'm not going to pretend like our mental health care system is the best, but it's not like you can be forced (or even coerced, outside of the general awful systems of capitalism) into it.

And I'm certainly not giving credit to a Pro-Life newspaper. They may possibly have some sort of an agenda when it comes to who gets to decide if you get to live or not.

Fact of the matter is, waiting lists are hell and some people would rather be dead than continue to suffer. I am personally of the opinion that they should be allowed to die with dignity instead of being forced to overdose in a side alley or jump in front of a train.

We need to solve this issue (it's called the end of capitalism, but on a smaller scale it means decreasing waiting list times and assuring people can get help before they reach this point) but the existence of euthanasia is not the same as "nazi shit" jesus fucking christ.

Anyway, this is an ongoing national debate for a reason, but you will never catch me approving of a system that criminalizes the right to die when I choose to.

Here's a quote from a Dutch article from GGZ Nieuws to bring context to the the numbers:

(GGZ=Mental health care) (https://www.ggznieuws.nl/euthanasie-bij-jonge-hulpvragers-is-uitzonderlijk/):

“De meeste verzoeken werden ingetrokken (47%) of werden afgewezen (45%)”, zegt Lizanne Schweren van 113 Zelfmoordpreventie die de dossiers van de 397 jonge hulpvragers met psychisch lijden onderzocht. “Twaalf jonge hulpvragers kregen euthanasie.”

“Most requests were withdrawn (47%) or rejected (45%),” says Lizanne Schweren of 113 Suicide Prevention, who examined the files of 397 young clients with psychological suffering. “Twelve young clients were euthanized.”

And from a different article (same org: https://www.ggznieuws.nl/toename-van-euthanasie-bij-patienten-met-psychische-aandoeningen/):

"De Nederlandse Vereniging voor Psychiatrie (NVvP) is begonnen met een herziening van de richtlijn ‘Levensbeëindiging op verzoek bij patiënten met een psychische stoornis’ om beter aan te sluiten bij de huidige praktijk en wetenschappelijke inzichten.

Belangenorganisatie Nederlandse Vereniging voor een Vrijwillig Levenseinde (NVVE) wijst erop dat de stijging kan duiden op een bredere maatschappelijke acceptatie van euthanasie bij psychisch lijden. Zij benadrukken het belang van zorgvuldige procedures en het serieus nemen van euthanasieverzoeken van patiënten met psychische aandoeningen."

"The Dutch Association for Psychiatry (NVvP) has started a revision of the guideline 'Termination of life on request in patients with a mental disorder' to better align with current practices and scientific insights.

The interest group Dutch Association for a Voluntary End of Life (NVVE) points out that the increase may indicate a broader social acceptance of euthanasia in cases of mental suffering. They emphasize the importance of careful procedures and taking euthanasia requests from patients with mental disorders seriously."

"

Also literally just checked Wikipedia and people loooove making stuff up about euthanasia in the Netherlands.

In 2012, United States Republican presidential candidate Rick Santorum claimed that forced euthanasia accounted for 4.2% of all deaths in the Netherlands and that elderly Dutch people wear a bracelet reading “Do not euthanize me.”, but these claims have been disproven.[19][20] The lack of a formal statement by Dutch officials on the matter angered Dutch politician Frans Timmermans, who demanded minister of foreign affairs Uri Rosenthal to take a public stance against such assertions.[21][22]

The 2019 suicide of 17-year-old Noa Pothoven led to false reports in English-language media that she had been granted an assisted death.[23]

The euthanasia of 29-year-old Zoraya ter Beek in May 2024, who had been a sufferer of chronic depression, autism, anxiety disorder and psychotraumas, and who decided that she wanted a medically-assisted death, attracted international attention.[24]

^Euthanasia for "undesirables" like the infirm and mentally ill is literally just nazi shit.

[design-college]

Steps to Apply for a Bachelor’s Degree in Interior Design in India

Interior design is not simply about decorating rooms. It is about designing functional and sustainable spaces that improve people's lives. Earning an Interior Design bachelor’s degree is the ideal starting point if you love design and aspire to leave your mark in this industry. But how do apply for one? This guide will take you through the necessary steps.

1. Know the Eligibility Criteria

Make sure you fulfil the minimum eligibility criteria:

Applicants should have passed 10+2 from a recognised board.

A minimum percentage is required by some colleges.

An arts or design background is not necessary but can be useful.

2. Find the Best Colleges

India has several institutions that provide Bachelor's degrees in Interior Design. See these things while selecting a college:

Accreditation and reputation

Curriculum and specialisations

Infrastructure and design labs

Placement opportunities

Alumni success stories

One such premier institute is the Parul Institute of Design, which offers an elaborate program combining creativity and technical knowledge.

3. Check Entrance Exam Requirements

Certain colleges conduct their Design Aptitude Tests (DAT), while others use the scores from national-level exams. Some of the common entrance exams are:

PU DAT (Parul University Design Aptitude Test)

NID DAT (National Institute of Design - Design Aptitude Test)

UCEED (Undergraduate Common Entrance Exam for Design)

CEED (Common Entrance Exam for Design)

State-level or university-specific entrance tests

Check the syllabus, format, and important dates if your chosen college has an entrance exam.

4. Prepare for the Entrance Exam

Start preparing early. Focus on:

Sketching and visualisation skills

Logical reasoning and problem-solving

General knowledge of art, design, and architecture

Creative thinking exercises

Taking mock tests and practising question papers from previous years can boost confidence.

5. Submit the Application Form

Once you have shortlisted colleges, complete the application form on their official websites. Make sure you:

Give correct personal and academic information.

Upload required documents (marksheets, ID proof, portfolio if necessary).

Pay the application fee.

Keep a copy of your submitted application for future reference.

6. Give the Entrance Exam and Interview (if applicable)

If your selected college has an entrance test, do not forget to appear in it. Some institutes hold a personal interview or portfolio review to check your creativity and design skills.

7. Wait for the Merit List and Admission Offer

Colleges publish merit lists after the interviews and exams according to scores and overall performance. If selected, you will be sent an offer letter from the institute. Follow the steps to confirm your admission.

8. Pay Fees and Complete Admission

After getting accepted, pay the admission fee within the time limit to book your seat. Some colleges also conduct an orientation program to acclimatise students to the course.

Start Your Design Journey at the Parul Institute of Design!

We at Parul Institute of Design cultivate creative minds and bestow on them the skills required by the industry. With expert faculty, live projects, and cutting-edge infrastructure, we prepare students to design the future. Apply now for our B Design entrance exam and make your passion your career!