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#and let's be honest
ivereadthemanual · 3 months
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So thanks to this amazing fanart by shynrinn(🙏) my brain is stuck with this 1800 AU idea where Michael replaces Aziraphale as representative on earth. Like the seed was planted and I'm going to water it.
So I like to think that Michael somehow gets Crowley out of the picture and Dagon is put up as replacement. It's Archangel Michael after all. So Duke of Hell seems like an appropriate choice. (I'm sure Aziracrow find a way to do their stuff, anyway. Because let's be real, nothing can keep them apart.).
We know how Aziraphale loves to play damsel in distress for Crowley to save him. But that does not fit either Michael nor Dagon.
So I like to think that Dagon keeps doing actual evil deeds and keeps corrupting humans. Trying to provoke Michael to come and smite them. And it's working. In the beginning Michael does it because it's their duty. But oh do they like it. The rush. Finally back on the battle field. Even if it's just a small one. A very personal one.
And sure, Dagon is frustrated in the beginning. Maybe even gets discorporated once or twice. But they keep going. Fueled by their desire to be a match for Michael. To be seen as worthy by Michael.
So this is becoming their dance. This will become their reason to regularly meet each other. Fight each other. Touch each other.
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edwinas · 1 year
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Nate and that white waitress having a moment was gross.
Up until now she barely treated him as a person. I guess she was technically professional with him. But she so obviously looked down on him, refused to make small talk (when it’s literally part of the job), refused to give him the table for his parents’ anniversary etc. It always felt like thinly veiled racism, rampant in the hospitality industry: the holier-than-thou attitude, the disrespect, the belittling, the lying. The show never takes into account a character’s race and how it shapes their experiences. But it matters. 
This waitress’ behaviour was passed off as “funny” and/or harmless when it’s hurtful. It’s humiliating. She contributed to Nate’s low self-esteem, him second guessing himself in the middle of asking her to join him. 
Writers neatly sidestepped this by having her giggle at “divine baklava,” take pity on Nate and share baklava with him. All is forgiven, I guess? And this happening in the same episode that tackles bullying?? As Jamie would say, talk about hypocritical.
Edit: she’s not even technically professional, she doesn’t greet Nate, a customer, and stares at him with that dead fish look.
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faerietaled · 4 months
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starter call. multi-muse, specify muse!
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pinkytoothlesso11 · 10 months
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HI Pinky What do you Prefer Strickler as a Villain or as Anti hero/hero
Personally i don't really think Strickler as a Villain rather more as Anti hero but i add the Villain Part mainly because a lot fans Consider him to be one at least the ones i Saw.
I wouldn't consider him a villain AT ALL, he is an antagonist of course for majority of season one, but even then I feel he's low on the scale. I haven't seen any other fans who consider him an actual villain though lol? Unless they refer to him as such before his redemption, as the Wiki puts him as a villain...
At the same time I don't think Anti-hero/hero fits Strickler... I'd say he's just morally grey. He only protects and helps those he considers family. And while his definition of family has slowly grown to encompass several people, he still finds it hard to trust them all.
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ct3113official · 1 year
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there is no loyalty in this world, even among my own brothers ! butterfingers just sold me out to the medics, and now they're after me
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polteergeistt · 1 month
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I keep thirst posting and you keep one-upping me so. Get in the basket nerd, we are going to horny jail (together. we are cellmates) 🫵⛓️
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🍉🍑🍐🍊🥭🍍🍓🍒🍎🫐🍈🍇🍋
In the basket I go. I'll bring red ropes so we can wrap ourselves and be pretty presents :3 *boops your accusing finger*
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illiana-mystery · 10 months
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I like his coat.
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evcndiaz · 9 months
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i don't know why anyone would spend a quarter of a million to go explore what is, essentially, a grave but i just knowww that father is telling his kid all kinds of hopeful lies just like i know that kid is trying his best to believe them and something about that is really quite sad.
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another-goblin · 2 months
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I love this Lantern Rite so far, I laughed and cried, Xianyun is definitely in top-3 of my favorite characters, and Gaming is so precious.
But.
Aren't we forgetting something very important? Aren't we supposed to be burying Furina or something? There is only one story part left.
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tophat-owl · 2 years
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Phoenix be the type of bitch to eat his problems away
Literally
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sanddollarpoems · 1 year
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I hate how Spotify is all up in my business telling me to check out all these concerts in my area. Like, it's so smart, it can tell me all my musical likes and preferences. But it's too dumb to realize that I become more introverted every year, and the idea of being in any space with that many people makes the room start to go dark. Spotify has obviously never been introduced to my anxiety.
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2offayyo-kzt · 5 months
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honestly, it's great if the fandom over react, it's entertaining, it fills the tag, and it keeps me busy
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frankenshane · 1 year
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genuine question, why does so much of the country hate california?
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i-got-the-feels · 2 years
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Porsche saying "Punk. I'll show you the real deal" lives rent free in mine and kinn's head.
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that-ineffable-devil · 10 months
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Rainbow in the Dark | Chapter 5
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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7
Author's Note: My deepest apologies for this particularly rough/rushed chapter. The house and health issues described last week bled into this week, but I couldn't go another full week with no update.
As I mentioned in my notes at the end of Chapter 4, I wanted to write a Jonathan POV chapter, and this is it. It also helps bridge the gap between our boys in their youths and their older selves, because I'm not writing their entire Jr. High/High School careers. This chapter picks up the Monday following Steve's disastrous weekend in Chapter 4, so it's gonna be angsty. I swear I didn't mean to write so much angst--it's just where the boys took me!
CONTENT WARNING: This chapter has very little content that should require a warning. However, there is a brief mention of the fights between Jonathan's parents that may be triggering, so I've put that and the rest of the chapter under the cut.
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Chapter 5: If You Don't Want Me, Set Me Free
Jonathan’s stomach fluttered with excitement as he parked his bike at school Monday morning. He’d never been very good at making friends, and it still seemed impossible that he’d somehow become friends with the Steve Harrington. More than that, he couldn’t believe how kind and funny Steve was.
Jonathan had been on the wrong end of a few run-ins with Tommy Hagan, and there was nothing kind about that boy. Oh, he could turn on the charm when he wanted to get his way, but there was nothing genuine about him. Hagan was always making jokes about him—his hair, his clothes, even his parents. Eventually he’d learned to keep his head low and try to ignore the words, though some would always slip past his barriers—and those were the ones that stuck with him.
The fact that Steve was always with Hagan told Jonathan everything he needed to know about him—or so he had thought. He couldn’t reconcile the Steve he knew with the one who was friends with Hagan. Maybe Steve didn’t realize that Hagan was intentionally cruel. Maybe he just didn’t care—but that didn’t seem likely with what Jonathan had learned last week. He’d been obsessively trying to puzzle out Steve Harrington all weekend, and eventually decided it didn’t matter.
Because Steve Harrington from the library was the real Steve—the one who was his friend. And today he’d get to hang out with his friend at lunch time—an entirely foreign, but exciting concept. Jonathan’s smile widened into a stupid grin as he walked toward the school building, ducking his head instinctively so no one could see.
Maybe the universe wasn’t out to get him after all—maybe this was an olive branch, a way to make up for his life thus far. Maybe things were finally looking up for him.
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Jonathan tried to catch Steve’s eyes as he entered homeroom, but the other boy was listening raptly to something Tommy was saying. Unwilling to put himself in Hagan’s crosshairs, Jonathan ducked his head and hunched his shoulders, silently finding his seat a row behind Steve.
Despite his best efforts, his eyes kept trailing to the back of Steve’s head during class. The boy’s hair was combed neatly to the side, not a strand out of place. A bit of a tag stuck up from the collar of his white t-shirt, and Jonathan wondered idly if he was bothered by it—if he could feel it scratching his neck but didn’t realize what it was—or if he was completely oblivious to it. Jonathan gripped his hands together as he felt the urge to tuck the tag back into Steve’s collar, like his mother had done for him so many times before.
Steve was never still during class—constantly rolling his neck, tapping his fingers, or jiggling his knee. Jonathan knew he was trying to pay attention, but he was probably only picking up half of what the teacher was saying. He smiled to himself as he remembered Steve pinching the bridge of his nose after he’d tried (and failed) to decipher his own notes in the library.
The hairs on the back of Jonathan’s neck prickled uncomfortably as he sensed someone’s eyes on him. His stomach dropped when his eyes flicked over to see Hagan staring back at him, a cruel smirk twisting across his face. His mouth suddenly dry, Jonathan dropped his eyes to his desk. He felt as if all the blood had drained from his body, a cold sweat raising goosebumps across his skin.
He kept his eyes locked on his desk through the rest of the class. Though he still occasionally felt that unsettling prickle of eyes on him, he didn’t dare confirm his suspicions. Whatever Hagan was planning, Jonathan didn’t want to be a part of it. He couldn’t help but hope he wouldn’t have to share Steve with him for long—that once Steve spent more time with him, he’d realize what an asshole Hagan really was. Steve deserved better than that.
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When the lunch bell rang, Jonathan thought he might try walking to the library with Steve, instead of just meeting him there. Unfortunately, Hagan had stuck to Steve like flypaper all day, and even now Steve remained trapped in the glue. He tried to catch Steve’s eye again—to somehow silently confirm they were still meeting in the library today—but Steve didn’t see him. Jonathan bristled as Hagan caught his eye instead, something like victory evident on his features. That bastard had been monopolizing Steve’s attention all day—did he know about their time in the library?
Unable to confirm his plans with Steve, Jonathan decided to head to the library anyway. His mom had been in such a hurry to get to work that she’d forgotten to pack his lunch, and he didn’t have any money to spare—and sitting in a lunchroom watching other people eat did not sound remotely appealing.
He found a seat at their usual table and opened his backpack, pulling out one of the homework assignments he’d received that morning. If he had to wait, he could at least get something done. He trusted Steve would get there as soon as possible—though his eyes kept drifting to the library door, hoping he’d catch the other boy walking in.
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Jonathan jumped when the bell for next period rang shrilly through the halls, despite the fact that his eyes had been glued to the large round clock on the wall for the past fifteen minutes, his homework assignment long since abandoned. Each second that ticked by had felt like a claw slashing through his chest to get to his heart, even after he’d realized that Steve was not going to show today.
He swallowed thickly, trying to smother his disappointment and soothe the ache in his chest. His mind raced through the possibilities—maybe Hagan hadn’t given Steve a chance to get away; maybe Steve had an appointment that he forgot to tell Jonathan about, and his parents had picked him up; maybe he’d gotten sick—or maybe he was just really hungry today. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he hadn’t meant what he said last week. Maybe he had really just been using Jonathan to get his assignment done last week. Maybe they weren’t really friends.
No, he couldn’t believe that. If Jonathan knew anything, it was how to read people, and Library Steve was genuine. He’d meant every word he’d said, and he’d been truly excited about meeting up with Jonathan again this week. They were friends. Something had just come up, and Steve didn’t have a chance to tell him.
Jonathan swiped at his eyes quickly to rid himself of any tears threatening to spill over and he took a steadying breath. It’s OK, he thought to himself. It’s only Monday, we have all week.
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But the rest of the week went much the same.
Each day, Jonathan tried to quietly get Steve’s attention, and each day Steve didn’t see him. Each day, Jonathan waited alone in the library, his eyes flicking between the clock and the door, no longer even pretending to work on assignments. Each day, Jonathan’s heart broke a little more, his chest crushing it with the heaviness of realizing Steve was never coming back to the library. Not this week. Not ever. Not for him.
By Friday morning, Jonathan’s confusion and hurt had curdled into anger. His parents had spent the night before shouting and throwing things at each other after his father had said something particularly cruel to his little brother, Will. Jonathan had pulled Will into his room and turned the stereo on, turning it up louder as the shouting escalated to screaming and breaking glass. Will had slept in Jonathan’s room. Jonathan hadn’t slept at all, determined to keep his body between the door and Will, afraid of what their bastard father would do even after the fight died down.
The dark circles under his eyes belied the fire sparking in his dark irises, exhaustion doing nothing to quell the pain-fueled rage. He’d been patient, he’d been understanding; now Steve was going to explain himself.
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Jonathan managed to keep himself together through the first half of the school day. Steve still wasn’t meeting his gaze—something he had finally realized was intentional. Hagan was still throwing him smug winks and smirks, and he could barely restrain the rage that uncoiled fiercely in his chest as he met Hagan’s eyes.
Jonathan had never been prone to violent emotions—he had vowed to never become his father—so he was shocked when the overwhelming urge to pummel the other boy’s face into the ground rose from his stomach like bile. Hagan had something to do with this, he was sure of it—but that didn’t excuse Steve steadfastly ignoring him all week.
When the lunch bell rang, instead of heading toward the library as he’d done every other day this week, Jonathan trailed Steve and Tommy as they walked toward the lunchroom. He had planned to wait until the end of the day, to catch Steve just before he left for home—but he couldn’t wait any longer. He couldn’t risk Steve leaving before he could reach him.
So, he followed from a distance as the two boys entered the cafeteria and headed to the lunch line. He’d brought his own lunch, but he stood in the line anyway, waiting for the two boys to get their meals and head to their usual table.
Moments after they’d settled into their seats, Jonathan abandoned the lunch line and bee-lined to their table. They were so deeply engaged in conversation that they didn’t notice Jonathan’s approach until he was upon them, slamming his backpack loudly on the table to get their attention and making them both jump and look up at him in shock.
Jonathan’s face burned hot as he glared at Steve, ignoring the ringing in his ears and the whispers of onlookers. He kept his eyes on Steve’s face, searching for something he couldn’t describe, determined to ignore the way Hagan’s face shifted into a smirk. He noted the way the blood left Steve’s face as he met Jonathan’s scowl, the way his pupils shrank to pinpricks and his body recoiled in fear.
Something in Jonathan broke and begged him to stop, terrified he’d say something he’d regret—terrified of making Steve fear him like he feared his father. But the pain and anger roiling his insides would not be silenced—it was too late to go back now.
“J…Byers!” Steve choked out, his eyes flicking around the cafeteria anxiously.
Jonathan wanted to be kind—he could feel the dread radiating from Steve—but a week of anxiety and hurt—a night of fear and fury and exhaustion—had left him with no compassion to give.
“So, you can see me!” he spat back, his forehead furrowing as the anger took over.
“W-what?”
“I’m not invisible, then? Not a ghost? You can see and hear me, yeah?”
“I-I d-don’t…”
“What’s wrong, Byers? Rough week?” Hagan interjected, a gleeful malice dripping from every word.
Jonathan didn’t look away from Steve, determined to see the truth—no matter the cost.
“Shut up, Hagan, this doesn’t involve you,” he spat at Tommy, finding courage in his fury.
“Oh look, the runt has some fight in him after all,” Tommy announced to the cafeteria.
Steve’s eyes still held Jonathan’s, as if he were unable to break away.
“Where were you? I waited. All week,” Jonathan said, ignoring Tommy and trying to keep his voice low.
Jonathan was acutely aware of an entire cafeteria of eyes on them now; he hadn’t anticipated that, and he wasn’t prepared for that kind of attention.
Steve didn’t respond, his mouth opening and closing, as if the words simply weren’t there.
“You waited, Byers? What for? Did you think my boy Harrington here was really your friend after you helped him with that essay? Really? You? Are you that pathetic?”
The barbed words stung as they sunk into Jonathan’s skin, but he kept his eyes on Steve, looking for confirmation or contradiction—anything. He needed to know, but he was losing resolve with every second of Steve’s silence.
“Steve?” he asked, even quieter this time.
“Wait…or was it…? No, it couldn’t be…” Tommy announced to the cafeteria, his voice mockingly hushed as though performing on a stage. “Did you think you had something special with Harrington, Byers? Develop a cute little crush on Hawkins’ star athlete, did you?”
Jonathan instinctively jerked back as if slapped, his eyes finally breaking from Steve’s to stare wide-eyed at Tommy—he didn’t see Steve’s head jerk down to stare at the table, his lips pursed tightly together.
“W-what?” Jonathan replied, still in shock.
“You heard me. Everyone heard me. And I don’t hear you denying it.”
Hagan’s voice was light, as though he were talking about the weather, but Jonathan heard the intent behind the tone—the challenge.
Silence rang through the cafeteria louder than any school bell; not a whisper fluttered between students. Jonathan felt his chest tighten as he flashed back to the words his father constantly hurled at Will—queer, fairy, faggot. He couldn’t breathe.
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Byers,” Steve said finally, his voice soft and low.
Jonathan snapped back to reality, as if Steve’s voice reminded him of why he was here—what this whole awful situation was about.
“You don’t know what I’m talking about,” Jonathan replied, his voice flat and monotone.
It wasn’t a question. Jonathan felt the ache in his chest bloom into a burning flame as his entire body flushed with the heat of embarrassment and anger.
“No,” Steve replied simply, eyes still lowered.
“So, we didn’t hang out in the library at all last week?” Jonathan asked incredulously, feeling his voice rise involuntarily.
“We worked on our English Lit essays at the same table, that’s all,” Steve replied, his voice also rising with the color in his cheeks.
“Really? That’s what you’re going with?!” Jonathan was losing control, his voice and body taking his brain somewhere it didn’t want to go.
Both he and Steve seemed to have all but forgotten that anyone else was there—even Hagan.
“That’s what happened,” Steve hissed, his eyes finally meeting Jonathan’s again, though now they were inscrutable.
“That is not what happened, Steve, and you know it.”
“Stop kidding yourself, Byers. I know you’re lonely or whatever, but if you’re hallucinating some kind of friendship with me, you’re deluded. Get some help, man. I don’t need some bullshit drama from a crazy Byers,” Steve said coldly, though his eyes had left Jonathan’s to stare at something behind him.
Once again Jonathan recoiled as if slapped; he felt hot tears rising in his eyes. He needed to get out of here. Now.
“Bullshit drama, right,” Jonathan replied, trying to hide the cracks in his voice.
“You know what I think, Harrington? I think you’re bullshit. All bullshit, no substance. Just some dick faking and bullshitting his way through life. And what’s more, it’s going to come back around, and you’ll have nothing but your own bullshit to blame. Have a nice fucking life and fuck you.”
He spat the last words with an icy venom, punctuated by him yanking his backpack up and over his shoulder and stalking off, trying to shake the image of Steve’s broken and pained expression from his memory—an expression he had to have imagined.
He made it to the boy’s bathroom before the tears finally overwhelmed him, wracking sobs ripping from his chest as the entire week crashed around him at once.
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The immediate aftermath of the “Batshit Byers” confrontation only lasted a few weeks, with random hurtful notes and drawings showing up on and within Jonathan’s locker and cruel laughter following him through the halls. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did—it wasn’t really much different than how things had been before Steve—maybe a little more overt, but the same results.
But there was one glaring difference between the time before the library, and the time after it. Before that week, all Jonathan had known was being the school freak—the weird kid that most people ignored.
But then he’d spent a week in the library with Steve Harrington, and for the first time in his life he’d allowed himself to feel something he never had before—hope. Hope that things could be different. Hope that things could get better. Hope that he could have something good and warm in his life.
The following week had completely disabused him of that illusion. The universe had made it excruciatingly clear that hope would be extinguished with extreme prejudice, and that what he wanted in life was not his to obtain. That weekend, as he tried to pick up the needle-sharp shards of his broken heart, his purpose in life began to crystallize in his mind.
He didn’t need friends or love to distract him from what was important—his mom and brother. He would care for them, support them, protect them. His family needed him more than he needed anyone, especially someone like Steve Harrington in his life.
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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7
Post Notes: I have GOT to stop breaking my own heart. But I feel like this chapter is a solid bridge between the friendly relationship Jonathan and Steve had developed in the library and the outright hostility by S1 of the show. Sure, it could have just been about Nancy--but why would we want to follow the overused heteronormative "he has a crush on my girl and that is unacceptable" trope? I think we can do better. And so can our boys.
Chapter 6 Preview: After the events that put young Eddie in the hospital, he moves to Hawkins with his Uncle Wayne. It's a rough adjustment for a 13 year-old boy, especially when he has the freedom to test his (and his uncle's) boundaries for the first time in his life. [Currently in Development--may include a little excerpt from his early Corroded Coffin days or we may quickly skip ahead to S4 Eddie; I'll update when I know for sure.]
Thank you to all readers who have made it this far! Likes, comments, and shares are deeply appreciated! I, like Steve, am heavily motivated by praise.
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Credits
Bat dividers courtesy of StrayWords.
Fic title courtesy of Rainbow in the Dark by Dio.
Chapter title courtesy of Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash.
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deeandpee · 2 years
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Trying to decide if Silco has soft hands or not...
On the one... hand, I’d like to imagine that his pads are calloused and textured on my skin, eliciting goosebumps across my body. Y’know, because my imagination is my safe space, I do what I want, and it would be vErY SExY.
On the other hand, Silco is baby. 
And I respect him for it.
... Either way I’d let him touch me however he wants.
but, like, not if he were a literal baby tho, that’d be very bad ofc
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