#like her hair looked..............Fried.

[looney-mooney-studio]

I know Lezah is dead. I KNOW. But her last name is Sllew and she SLAYS. I want to give her apple juice and trail mix with extra raisins in it as a snack break from breaking convention regulations

[radiocity]

The L Word | S2E01

[freaky-flawless]

My G3 Abbey's hair is so fucked, I think my only option at this point is to reroot her.

[fizzytoo]

she's my everything

[electricalcheese]

throws my hawaii part ii art at you

Can you tell I like Them (Ignore the other guy on my paper. Love him but he is not relevant here). I have more but the quality sucks and I'm to lazy to get a photo

eyestrain under the cut. maybe? i used the default ibispaint colors and slightly brightened them up. just warning just in case

[fried-trash]

GAY PEOPLE 3!!!!

[callisteios]

they should invent a mother who doesn’t make every attempt at making you feel bad about your appearance

[thinkingnot]

beans

they sure are good *eats a raw bean and writhe on the ground like a fish out of water* <- (btw lost a tooth)

[becoach-a]

i love this hair color on keeley like.....

[fredorepetto]

[vaingod]

you have no idea how badly i want to scream at women that touch my hair when they compliment it and ask how i get the curls so nicely shaped, everyday im closer to saying "you will need thousands of generations of ethnic roma to gift you these hair genes" but instead i say "conditioner with silk fibre and coconut oil and then mix leave in curl conditioner with a drop of hair gel and scrunch your hair" the experiences i go through are so exhausting

[itsays]

idols going blonde is usually so fun except i always fear they're gonna end up bald

[vaguely-human-man]

Idk who needs to hear this but take that early transition girl out. Dress her up all pretty and assure her that anyone who dares to say a negative word will have to contend with you. Do her makeup and gently talk her through the steps, do one eye for her and let her try the other one on her own. Kiss her lips and watch the way she grins like a maniac at the imprint that her black lipstick leaves behind. Take her out to the movies or to the mall, walk around and buy her a pair of good boots without letting her look at the price tag, watch the way she smiles shyly and swoons even while insisting she doesn't need them. Tell her 'My love. You loved them instantly and they had your size- it's fate, they're meant to be yours,' and then help her sit down in one of the mall chairs to put them on, watch the way she prances around in them like an excited little girl.

Hold her hand and talk to the lady at Rue 21 for her because you know she's insecure about her voice. Go in the dressing room with her and gently help her into the skirt she was eyeing- one foot, a second, shimmy, shimmy, up- followed by a wonderfully soft sweater that falls just right over her frame. Hug her from behind while she looks in the mirror and feels beautiful, basking in her euphoria. Whisper into her ear how proud you are of her- how brave she is, how beautiful, how honored you are to be able to share this journey with her.

Take her to dinner and kiss her while you wait for your food, run your hands down her freshly shaven arms and gently caress over the back of her neck. Offer her some of your ramen while you take a bite of her fried rice, and clumsily attempt to feed her a bite of sushi with some chopsticks.

And then. Take her home, with all the bags that now hold the beginnings of her new wardrobe, and help her hang them up, try them on. Let her have a fashion show and gently wipe her makeup off before sleep. Kiss her and caress her and shower her with affection, with praise and love and adoration. Let her melt into your arms and if she cries let the tears soak into your shirt. Gently caress her hair and say 'its okay, baby girl. I love making you feel beautiful,'

Or something, idk.

[unreadpoppy]

a week late but only now i remembered to make this post

I get now why everyone in the doll community hates poly hair

[2tarbell]

US — KOOK!READER

rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

if anyone asked you, you’d say you never got jealous. what was the point? a seemingly endless waste of energy and your valuable attention — people would get on their knees in seconds for a chance to talk to you. a kook princess never got jealous.

which is why the stinging question of ‘why?’ bounced around your head as you watched rafe walk back over to the bar, a pretty head of dark hair awaiting him with an infuriatingly easy going smile.

sofia.

you only learned her name after she introduced herself with a little grin. something about the pogue was effortless and it was currently eating away at any confidence you might’ve had when you walked in.

your makeup felt heavy and your miniskirt too short, too tight — did you look trashy? like you were trying too hard? she was sweet; that girl next door energy you know you’d never have. no matter how much you cried and pleaded.

a bump to your shoulder interrupted your brooding, pretty glossed lips stuck together in a pout, mimicking the furrow of your brow. topper gave you a knowing look and a scowl met him. he chuckled dryly.

“earth to princess, hellooo?”

you rolled your eyes, directing your attention to your empty cocktail glass. the ice looked back at you mockingly — you’re the one who asked rafe to go get you another drink. stupid, stupid, stupid.

“go to hell, top.” the quip made your other best friend laugh, kelce reaching across the table to steal a fry from your untouched plate. how could you eat in a moment like this?

“what’s the problem? you’re literally pouting.” the boy mumbled.

the way kelce spoke through a mouthful of fried potato made you wince. a napkin is thrown in his direction, landing on the table lamely. boys are so messy, and nosey.

you huff dramatically, “ugh, it’s nothing. god, i miss when men went off to war and, like, died or something—“

your annoyed spiel is cut off by a drink being placed in front of you, the lime already squeezed in and floating amongst the cubes of ice. just how you like it. a warm hand rests on the nape of your neck as the chair beside you squeaks against the floor. that voice you know so well rumbling close to you.

“who’s dying?” rafe mumbles as he gets comfortable in the plush chair again, arm stretching behind your shoulders. the gesture is so casual and it makes your stomach twist.

his eyes are piercing when you look over at him — a smirk raises his lips and you fight the urge to slap him then kiss it off his stupid face.

“you — if you were gonna take any longer.”

the eye roll you receive is nothing out of the ordinary — rafe was used to your bitchy tendencies. but watching him chat with the bartender made a seed of doubt burrow into your mind. sofia probably wasn’t such a cunt. maybe that’s why he likes her.

“yeah, well, someone wanted a lime and they were out. sorta hadta wait for your shit, dollface…” rafe explained like it was second nature.

your passive aggressiveness never seemed to phased him, he always put up with it, with you. the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. it was masked with a glare.

you flipped your hair over your shoulder and crossed a leg over the other, stomach churning while you poked at the cocktail with the thin black straw. the conversation between the boys picked back up — blah blah, golf, topper whining about sarah, blah blah.

it was like the cameron boy sensed your disinterest. his arm on the back of your chair shifted, blunt nails now tracing up and down your spine. the contact made your back straighten before leaning into his touch.

it was pacifying for a while. his side profile caught your attention, nose sharp and sexy, cheekbones crafted expertly. he was so handsome it was unfair... she probably thought so, too.

god, why couldn’t you stop thinking about that pogue girl? was he charming and funny to her? maybe he played hard to get and dismissive. maybe her number was sitting in his pocket, scribbled on a napkin in perfect curls — fucking ew.

suddenly you became irritated. the thought of your best friend, your rafe thinking he could flirt with someone like her then slink back over to you. yeah, right. you weren’t that easy. you rolled your shoulders, shrugging off his touch. he shot you a look but didn’t say anything, just adjusted in his chair.

you were listening to the conversation even less now, anger and something you didn’t want to name boiling in your chest. stiff as a board, you picked at your food. only humming in acknowledgment when something concerned you. it was obvious something was the matter and your friends shared curious looks with each other but never asked you outright.

a warm palm tried to squeeze your thigh but you pushed his hand off. rafe clenched his jaw at your dismissal, feeling that familiar need for dominance over you and whatever fuckin’ attitude you decided to have today. with topper and kelce in a heated debate over something probably stupid, rafe leaned in — his breath was hot against your ear as he spoke in a low warning tone.

“don’t know what your fuckin’ deal is — but it ends now, yeah? eat.”

the glare you sent up through your lashes only stoked the fires of his annoyance. there’s a momentary stare off, eyes communicating thousands of thoughts and unspeakable feelings.

with a scoff you look away, feeling a lump form in your throat. no, this isn’t happening. you stand abruptly and rifle through your purse for a hundred before you throw it on the table, storming off with heels clicking.

the sound echoes in rafe’s head as he snatches the bill up, placing his card down on the table. he quickly follows after you, ignoring the way sofia’s eyes light up when he heads her direction.

“hi, rafe, i was just…” her words fizzle out in her tongue as she watches him pass her, marching after the pretty girl in a yellow top.

the small family bathroom offered a reprieve from the stifling nature of rafe’s presence and your own mind. looking in the mirror — you hardly recognized yourself. you shoved your purse onto the counter, feeling like your composure was completely lost.

eyes wide and teary, lips still glittery but trembling. this was only a version of you he could bring out. now, you found yourself wishing for the comforting weight of his words and gaze and — no, be strong. get it together.

the silence was broken by the door being pushed open with immense force. your head dropped, not trusting yourself to form a witty stab of words. within seconds he was turning you, body hard and pressing your back into the counter, reaching behind you and shoving the hundred dollar bill back into your purse. a wince left you when he gripped your jaw tightly with a hold unforgiving and questioning.

“fuck was that, huh? you— you were doin’ so well, dollface, and now—”

the words halted when he saw a shiny tear streak down your face. the way his eyes softened only pushed you further into despair. his hand moved, now cupping your face and running a thumb along your cheekbone. the wet pearl caught on his skin but once they started, they just kept coming.

soon you were in his arms, hiccuping and holding on for dear life. rafe rocked you with a tight hold — voice soothing despite the look of confusion on his face. he’d never seen you this upset before, this broken.

“hey, hey, woah — what’s’a matter? what happened?” he cooed.

his large palm smoothed over your hair as you pressed your makeup running cheeks to his chest. hugging rafe always made everything better, but now you can’t stop thinking about him holding her like this.

he spoke your name firmly, pulling your head back to look deep into your wet eyes. his stare was intense, worried and seeking answers.

“use your words f’me,” he pushed your hair back off your forehead as he mumbled. and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve shrieked about him ruining your hair.

“jus’— d’you like her?” you blubbered.

rafe was more than confused, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. he crouched down a little, trying to hear your meek voice better.

frustrated and distraught, you pushed him back weakly. a few more inches were put between you two — only a few seconds until he crowded you again, trying to soothe you.

“sofia, rafe! do you like her?”

your yelling had him stepping even closer. shaking his head quickly, confused and slightly irritated, rafe cupped your cheeks in his palms.

“okay, okay— i heard you. don’t scream. i don’t— i don’t even fuckin’ know her. stop, stay still—“

you were squirming, trying to get far from him. far from this and the horrible ache in your chest at just the thought him maybe, possibly—

“stop, i’m talking now. ‘m not— i don’t like sofia, okay? i don’t, y’hear me?” his voice was authoritative, freezing you in place. those blue eyes pleaded with yours for understanding, for trust.

despite the tension between you, his heart skips a beat as your gaze meets his. he sees the sparkle in your eyes, that fire mixed with a hint of softness that he’s so fond of. it gives him a glimmer of hope that maybe he can bridge this gap between you.

“c’mon. you know you’re my girl.”

you melt into him unconsciously, seeking that warmth his embrace always seemed to bring. you’re hugging each other tightly in the small bathroom. rafe stares at your figures in the mirror, watching as you nuzzle further into his arms. like you belong there.

with a sniffle, you tip your head back. feeling so small as you look up at his face. rafe leans down and presses a tender kiss to your mouth — moving slowly in a moment of raw vulnerability.

his voice is low, you feel the vibrations against your lips as he speaks softly, “i wouldn’t do that t’you… to us.”

he feels your body tense at his words, his hands squeeze your hips. with wide eyes you pull back from the kiss and gape at him. his touch is begging you to listen, to not freak out. the tears well anew as you let his words wash over you. us. he thinks there’s an us.

suddenly, it’s like you can breathe again. like all the nights feeling scared and confused without him seem worth it. all of it’s worth it to be in his arms like this, hearing him justify the feelings you’ve done everything to bury.

rafe cups your cheek in one hand, the other arm wrapping fully around your body. there’s something so tender and charged about the way he’s looking at you and wiping your crocodile tears away.

he’s begging you now, eyes flicking between yours, “you’re my girl, you know that. always gonna be us, a’ight?”

a light burns in your heart and you realize that you do know that. when has it ever been anything else? when has he not been by your side, dealing with your bullshit? rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

with a shaky exhale you nod, leaning into his palm. the sight of you so fragile tears at his heart and rafe draws you in closer. his nose finds home in your hairline and he peppers kisses along your forehead. us.

the revelation didn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, insecurity still pecking at your mind.

“she’s probably easier to deal with.”

“nah, i don’t wan’ easy.”

he pulls back, holding the back of your neck to angle your face towards him. there’s a hardness to his gaze — like the very idea of easy is repulsing him. then he’s smirking and leaning in.

rafe presses a firm kiss to your mouth, tongue parting your lips and swallowing the hiccup of pleasure that slipped out. his leg wedges its way between yours, knee pressed snugly underneath your miniskirt. he’s devouring you completely unforgivingly. without thought, you roll your hips against his knee. the tension in your body melts away as the friction of his jeans meets your covered clit.

“mmf, rafe—”

“i don’t want easy,” his words accented by harsher presses of his leg upward, causing you to choke on air, “i want you. whiny and bratty and beautiful you. got it?”

nodding your head fervently, he smushes his lips against yours. lifting you onto the small counter and shoving a hand up your skirt, his hardness pressing thick and pulsing against your thigh. the kiss so messy and clothes haphazardly being pulled to the side. the spark of finally being seen, finally being acknowledged as his, fuels the moment.

the sex is slow and steady, a promise of commitment and dedication to this messy relationship. to each other. tears of pleasure and happiness collect on your lash line, pretty face scrunched in ecstasy only rafe could provide.

(and topper and kelce took his card and ordered five beers each.)

[gremlingottoosilly]

kidnapped!reader come crawling back to kidnapper!könig after she was somehow released because she doesn't have anyone else beside that cruel man who loves her so so much

imagine being able to escape the guy who held you in his basement for three months only to find out that literally, no one notices your disappearance...yeah, that can fuck anyone up. You just...you couldn't fucking believe it - you thought all of those people were your friends, you thought they truly cared about you, at least enough to file out a police report. You literally went to your old apartment and it's rented to some other people. You tried to contact your parents, and then you remember that you weren't talking to each other for at least half a year, even before the whole kidnapping thing. It's shameful, but when you're forced to sit at the police station while literally, everyone ignores your attempts to file a report - you can't put anything, you're not injured, you're wearing nice clothes, you literally look like you just rolled out from a bed and gone with your day. Kidnapping victims don't look like that, and this is what the eyes of the officer listening to you say. Maybe, this is why when Konig pulls up to whatever park bench you holed yourself into, you don't even try to resist. There is disappointment in his eyes, and you are almost too embarrassed to look at him. You just...you feel weird. You should be scared, you should attack him and call for help. You ask him if he could stop by some drive-through and get you some food. He does. Konig asks if the escape was worth it, and you mask your sobs with the sound of munching on your fries. He reaches down to pat your hair and says that if you ever pull something like this again, he will break your legs. You nod, kinda agreeing with him - you'd break your own legs at this rate. He fucks you like an animal the next minute you're back in the house - only barely prepping you before punishing your poor, abused cunt with his cock. It's a miracle you are not damaged down there, as he drags you in his hands and never lets you leave the bed for the rest of the night. He hugs you and kisses your forehead when you say that no one even cared that you disappeared. At least now you know who really is on your side. It's him. Always been him.