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10/11/2009, 16:22

Damien was meant to go home over an hour ago.

The bell had rung, signalling the end of the school day, but he wasn't ready to go home yet, instead opting to stay in school to practice his final solo piece for GCSE Music, given that it would be recorded on Thursday.

It's stressful but he's enjoyed the course and he's quite good at it. He's glad it'll be over in a few months. He fucking hates high school; he's ready to leave for good. Not just school, but Wales in general — the farther he is from his parents the better. He isn't allowed to move out yet though, for legal reasons.

So for now, he's just hoping for an A in the subjects he likes.

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someone: good boy

me, feeling it in my dick: say it again please i am fucking begging you

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Send “▪” to meet one of my muse’s siblings.

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boys who get hard from sucking your dick. boys who want you to cum in their mouth. boys who say "please" when they want you to finish on their face. boys who clean you up with their tongue after.

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how often does you oc forget to eat? 

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Send me  ‘ 🥃 ‘ + plus a question, and my muse will answer it while drunk.

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Send “▪” to meet one of my muse’s siblings.

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Damien smiles sheepishly at Hannah, quickly shaking his head. "No no, it's fine, really I– You don't have to do that; that's too much." He says rather quickly. He's not sure he'd be able to live with himself if he let her pay for his ride — he hardly knows her and all he's really done is give her his jacket and hold conversation.

He knows his jacket is warm — knows he's warm — but it's hardly nice enough for Hannah to pay for anything for him, is it? Yeah, it's cold but wow.

TAXI

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Normally, Hannah doesn’t do taxis. Her apartment isn’t too far of a walk, maybe twenty minutes if the sidewalk decides to be especially clear of people (that never happens). She didn’t see the need for them.

But today, when it’s absolutely pouring rain and she couldn’t be bothered to get every inch of her drenched, plus possibly catch a cold, she can clearly see the need for them now as she flags down the nearest one. The yellow of it is so bright it almost hurts to look at, which is why she does the opposite and rushes into the small space available with a relieved sigh.

The curls of her hair have gotten frizzy with the weather, exasperatedly pulling it up into a bun with a spare hair tie as she greets the driver and gives the address to her place. If she hadn’t noticed the tall stranger sitting right next to her, she’s sure she would’ve slumped back and tried to rest her eyes. Her shift was too long, and she needed a nap more than anything.

“Sorry for delaying your ride.” She speaks sincerely, a look that’s not sheepish but it’s also not free of the real bit of guilt she feels. “I just don’t think I would’ve found another one around here. It’s a miracle I found one in the first place. I don’t see them often in this area, surprisingly. You’d think they’d take advantage of all of the wasted guys needing to go home.”

She spews out, words nearly unending before her short rambling ends up a quiet clear of her throat and a chuckle. “Sorry. I’m Hannah. And you are…?”

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where in the sibling order is your oc?

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He notices the shiver surprisingly quickly considering current state, a quiet yawn leaving him that's hidden by his hand. He hands Hannah his coat; wouldn't want her getting sick because of the weather, after all.

He nods in response to her question. "That'd be a bit of an understatement." He'd had the first shift if the day with UPS, had to go straight from there to the gig, which had lasted 8 hours — he's barely had a chance to sit down all day.

TAXI

@paintstained-photographs

Normally, Hannah doesn’t do taxis. Her apartment isn’t too far of a walk, maybe twenty minutes if the sidewalk decides to be especially clear of people (that never happens). She didn’t see the need for them.

But today, when it’s absolutely pouring rain and she couldn’t be bothered to get every inch of her drenched, plus possibly catch a cold, she can clearly see the need for them now as she flags down the nearest one. The yellow of it is so bright it almost hurts to look at, which is why she does the opposite and rushes into the small space available with a relieved sigh.

The curls of her hair have gotten frizzy with the weather, exasperatedly pulling it up into a bun with a spare hair tie as she greets the driver and gives the address to her place. If she hadn’t noticed the tall stranger sitting right next to her, she’s sure she would’ve slumped back and tried to rest her eyes. Her shift was too long, and she needed a nap more than anything.

“Sorry for delaying your ride.” She speaks sincerely, a look that’s not sheepish but it’s also not free of the real bit of guilt she feels. “I just don’t think I would’ve found another one around here. It’s a miracle I found one in the first place. I don’t see them often in this area, surprisingly. You’d think they’d take advantage of all of the wasted guys needing to go home.”

She spews out, words nearly unending before her short rambling ends up a quiet clear of her throat and a chuckle. “Sorry. I’m Hannah. And you are…?”

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sinday questions.

since it’s sinday, my muses would love to get some dirty questions (anons or not). they are not allowed to lie, so this is your chance to get out of them everything you need to know.

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Damien reaches up to rub his eyes, fixing his glasses so that he can see properly again, or at least as well as possible. "No, it's fine... Probably shouldn't fall asleep anyway."

He chuckles at the short addition, knowing that 'tired' was a nice way of putting it anyway. He never comes back from gigs looking anything less than a blink away from a coma.

He'd had a short conversation with the driver earlier, though he thinks he'd fallen asleep halfway through them telling a story — not on purpose, of course, he's just socially drained. Surprisingly, the 10 minutes of sleep he'd gotten before Hannah joined him in the cab had helped a whole lot. And Hannah seems more interesting than the 50-something year old driving the car.

TAXI

@paintstained-photographs

Normally, Hannah doesn’t do taxis. Her apartment isn’t too far of a walk, maybe twenty minutes if the sidewalk decides to be especially clear of people (that never happens). She didn’t see the need for them.

But today, when it’s absolutely pouring rain and she couldn’t be bothered to get every inch of her drenched, plus possibly catch a cold, she can clearly see the need for them now as she flags down the nearest one. The yellow of it is so bright it almost hurts to look at, which is why she does the opposite and rushes into the small space available with a relieved sigh.

The curls of her hair have gotten frizzy with the weather, exasperatedly pulling it up into a bun with a spare hair tie as she greets the driver and gives the address to her place. If she hadn’t noticed the tall stranger sitting right next to her, she’s sure she would’ve slumped back and tried to rest her eyes. Her shift was too long, and she needed a nap more than anything.

“Sorry for delaying your ride.” She speaks sincerely, a look that’s not sheepish but it’s also not free of the real bit of guilt she feels. “I just don’t think I would’ve found another one around here. It’s a miracle I found one in the first place. I don’t see them often in this area, surprisingly. You’d think they’d take advantage of all of the wasted guys needing to go home.”

She spews out, words nearly unending before her short rambling ends up a quiet clear of her throat and a chuckle. “Sorry. I’m Hannah. And you are…?”

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Damien's never quite understood American taxis. He doesn't get why they're so bright, or why they're more common to see s bus, or why it's necessary to have to wave one down — what if the driver doesn't see you? Do you just wait for another one or is there some kind of protocol? Why is it so hard to find a damn bus stop?

However, he did need to catch a taxi today, because he was not walking two hours in the pouring rain with his guitar, an amplifier, and a bag as big as the one he's carrying. So he'd waved one down.

He doesn't actually notice Hannah cons in, having been in and out of sleep until she started talking. "Hm?" His eyes open somewhere in the middle of her short rambling and he smiles sheepishly at her.

"It's alright, Hannah. I'm Damien, it's nice to meet you."

TAXI

@paintstained-photographs

Normally, Hannah doesn’t do taxis. Her apartment isn’t too far of a walk, maybe twenty minutes if the sidewalk decides to be especially clear of people (that never happens). She didn’t see the need for them.

But today, when it’s absolutely pouring rain and she couldn’t be bothered to get every inch of her drenched, plus possibly catch a cold, she can clearly see the need for them now as she flags down the nearest one. The yellow of it is so bright it almost hurts to look at, which is why she does the opposite and rushes into the small space available with a relieved sigh.

The curls of her hair have gotten frizzy with the weather, exasperatedly pulling it up into a bun with a spare hair tie as she greets the driver and gives the address to her place. If she hadn’t noticed the tall stranger sitting right next to her, she’s sure she would’ve slumped back and tried to rest her eyes. Her shift was too long, and she needed a nap more than anything.

“Sorry for delaying your ride.” She speaks sincerely, a look that’s not sheepish but it’s also not free of the real bit of guilt she feels. “I just don’t think I would’ve found another one around here. It’s a miracle I found one in the first place. I don’t see them often in this area, surprisingly. You’d think they’d take advantage of all of the wasted guys needing to go home.”

She spews out, words nearly unending before her short rambling ends up a quiet clear of her throat and a chuckle. “Sorry. I’m Hannah. And you are…?”

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what kind of drunk is your oc?

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Damien smells of apples and very faintly of a generic mens' deodorant.

what does your character smell like?

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Tag the oc that went to Catholic school

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