🤍Some things never change 🖤
Wow!! two in one day? thats unlikely of me hehe.
honestly I had an idea and I NEEDED TO EXICUTE IT...I would have died if I didn't (jk) but yeah, it's basically just a couple designs for my y/n-sona in thr ybgverse (plus their dynamic throughout the years)
ALSO my guilty habit of making up lore then never actually using it for her (im referring to older posts) but she has always been poor as a kid, ik that. most of her better looking clothes where sort of gifted to her from her best friend (exept she changes out of it by the end of the school day cause her parents are trash and sell anything that they think she doesn't need) and her good clothes are usually kept away in her locker or within the safety of her friend who gifted it to her in the first place yk??
and well uh..peter is peter I guess haha, you get the gist. anyways I hope you guys like it!!! :D
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💜suspicious💜
Lucy has came to figure out something about peter DD hasn't.. but she doesn't want to scare poor DD and make her paranoid.. so she tries to keep him away from her..
HIIII I HAVEN'T REALLY DRAWN LUCY BEFORE BUT SHES SO HAWT I HAD TO
also...yandere lucy? I might draw it if I get more inspo and energy, cause I feel like it would be a fun idea!
I hope you guys like it :3
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You Take The Man Out of The City, Not The City Out The Man
This is it. He's waited ages to do this. To leave and never look back again. It's the night of his 18th birthday, and he's not celebrating it with his pathetic excuse of a mother. 3.00 a.m. and he's standing in their home house' backyard, burning his outfits in a blazing fire. A pile of black clothes, laced, spiked, and more. Everything in one go as he silently prays that his family doesn't smell the ivory smoke.
He kills the fire, putting up his hood as he grabs a single dufflebag with all of his necessities. Leaving his room as lifeless as he could while he books it through the forest in their backyard — the forest he's gotten to know, with the paths and routes remembered like the back of his hand. There should be a bus stop waiting for him through the threshold.
Time passes by, and the sky is littered with stars. His breathing heaves as he finally reached the lonely, almost abandoned bus stop. Sitting on the rusty, creaking bench as he waits with the light flickering every now and then. Now where the fuck is his ride?
He snores, falling asleep on the metallic bench when all of a sudden, the sound of a vehicle comes to a stop right in front of him. There it was — a bus. An old looking one, something that should've been decommissioned ages ago. He drags himself onto it, paying the fair and taking a seat right beside the window. He watches as the scenery passes him by like a slideshow — no idea where the bus is headed, with no plan ahead. As his eyes set on looking through the window, he can't help but feel a sense of relief in his chest, as if this is the first time he had ever taken a breath in.
He didn't leave any note for his family to find, no, they don't deserve that. They don't deserve the courtesy of a goodbye. They don't deserve a proper closure. Not when they've made his life a living hell for the past 18 years.
Droplets of rain stain the window, drawing short-lived maps across the glass. Now his attention is on them as he wonders where his fate lies in the future.
.
.
.
The bus finally comes to a halt as the rain pours. This is the last stop it will be making, and he's decided that it's time to face his reality. He takes a step outside, instantly getting himself soaked in the downpour as he runs towards the nearest shelter. It's a sombre town, with a single diner that's still open around this hour and in this weather. His stomach grumbles. He feels his jeans for his wallet, aware of how thin it is. His fingers tap against his own thigh.
.
.
.
Fuck it.
.
.
.
Dad's Damn Diner looks almost retro, with red seats and typical diner decos bringing the place to life. In this weather and at this hour, the diner is practically empty — just like his stomach. He's seated somewhere far from the counter as he waits for the waiter.
"Pretty late, huh?"
His eyes glance at the waiter, still in their full uniform.
"So, what can I do for you today?" they asked nonchalantly while they take out a notepad, ready to take his order.
Right. It's his birthday. Not enough money for a cake though, nor does he even feel like celebrating.
"Just French fries."
Just French fries is all he could afford.
The waiter nods and leaves him to his own company. Preparing his single order, late in the night. A few minutes pass and they return to his spot with a tray in hand.
"One French fries and a milkshake." They casually place down his order on the table. What? No. This isn't what he ordered. He can't afford this, not unti—
"On the house."
He pauses in his tracks. The waiter heads back to the kitchen, not waiting a second for his response.
He's 18, tears well up in his eyes as he first tasted freedom.
... It tastes like milkshake.
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