𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐌𝐈!orthodox christian!! habesha artist!! minor!! she/they!! I LOBE U JADE LEECH I LOBE U TOO SILVER
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The Art Block Is Getting To Me... I Can See The Light...
the art block is getting to me... i can see the light...
SAME ACTUALLY IM PROCRATSINGIN YUMIS EVENT CARD SO HARD...
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More Posts from Gimmeurmoneyagh
Thinking of you.
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Forgiveness - Deuce Spade x reader
When Deuce accidentally breaks an item that you treasured, he's worries that he's broken your trust as well. But there's nothing that can't be fixed with a hug and an apology.
Hurt/Comfort for the soul!
You stare at the broken shards scattered on the floor, your breath caught in your throat. The silence in the room is thick, the weight of what just happened sinking in like a stone in your chest.
Deuce stands across from you, frozen in place, his hands half-raised as if he’s unsure of what to do. His wide eyes are locked on the remnants of the object you’ve cherished since you first arrived in Twisted Wonderland. He stammers, trying to form words that will make this better, but nothing comes out.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know it was so fragile.”
You know he didn’t mean to. You know it wasn’t on purpose. But that doesn’t stop the sting from cutting deeper than you expected.
The thing he’d broken—a keepsake from your world, one of the few precious items you’d been able to bring with you—was irreplaceable. Now it was just a collection of shattered pieces, and you couldn’t stop the tears welling up in your eyes. You quickly turn away, not wanting him to see.
“I just— I’ll clean it up. I’ll fix this somehow.” Deuce’s voice breaks with guilt, but you can’t face him right now.
Without saying a word, you step over the mess and grab your jacket. You need air, space, something to calm the storm inside your chest. “I’m going for a walk,” you manage, your voice clipped, and before Deuce can respond, you’re out the door.
The cool evening breeze hits your face as you walk aimlessly through the grounds. You keep telling yourself it was an accident, that Deuce didn’t mean to break the one thing you held dear from your old life. And deep down, you already know you’ll forgive him—you always do. But right now, you just need a moment to yourself, a chance to clear your head.
By the time you circle back to the dorm, the night has grown darker, and the tension in your chest has begun to ease. You take a deep breath before stepping inside, telling yourself that you’ll talk to Deuce, that everything will be fine. You already know he’s beating himself up about it. He doesn’t need you adding to his guilt.
When you walk into the common room, though, the sight before you stops you in your tracks.
Deuce is curled up on the couch, asleep. He looks uncomfortable, his long legs hanging awkwardly off the end, and his jacket is bunched up beneath him like a makeshift pillow. His face is peaceful, but there’s a slight frown pulling at his brow, even in sleep.
You exhale softly, the last of your anger slipping away completely. He must’ve assumed you were still mad—mad enough to not want to share a bed with him tonight. So, he’d opted for the couch, giving you space even though it was clear he wasn’t comfortable.
Guilt washes over you. Deuce may be a little impulsive, a little clumsy, but his heart is always in the right place. And you know, without a doubt, that he didn’t mean to hurt you by breaking your keepsake. He just... messed up. Like he sometimes does.
Silently, you walk over to the couch and crouch down beside him. His face is relaxed now, his breathing slow and steady, and the sight tugs at your heartstrings. You reach out and gently brush a lock of his hair away from his forehead.
“I forgive you,” you whisper, even though he can’t hear you. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
Standing up, you carefully ease yourself onto the couch beside him, slipping under the blanket he’d half-thrown over himself. It’s cramped, and there’s barely enough room for both of you, but you manage to snuggle close, resting your head against his chest.
Almost instinctively, Deuce shifts in his sleep, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you closer. You feel his body relax even more, and you can’t help but smile softly at the way he always sleeps better when you’re near.
The tension in your own body melts away, and before you know it, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you into sleep.
When Deuce wakes up, the first thing he notices is the warmth. His arm is wrapped around something solid and familiar, and it takes him a few seconds to realize it’s you, nestled against his chest, still fast asleep. His eyes widen in surprise, his heart skipping a beat as he processes the fact that you’re here with him, not angry, not distant—here.
He carefully shifts to get a better look at your face, his movements slow and cautious as if he’s afraid that waking you might shatter this moment. You’re breathing softly, your face peaceful, and he can’t help but feel a surge of relief wash over him.
You’ve forgiven him.
Deuce’s chest tightens with emotion as he remembers the events from earlier—the way your expression had fallen when the keepsake had shattered, the hurt in your eyes as you walked out the door. He’d been certain he’d ruined everything, that you wouldn’t be able to forgive him this time. The fact that you’re here now, curled up with him on the couch, is almost too much for him to believe.
He swallows hard, his throat tight with gratitude. “You... came back,” he whispers, even though he knows you’re still asleep. His hand tightens slightly around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as he presses his cheek against your hair and he takes a shuddering breath.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice barely audible in the quiet room. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
You stir slightly at the sound of his voice, your eyelids fluttering open. Deuce freezes, holding his breath as you blink up at him, still half-asleep but clearly aware of where you are.
“Deuce?” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. “Why are you...?”
He clears his throat, looking down at you with a sheepish expression. “I thought... I thought you’d want space after... you know, what happened. So, I slept out here. But then... I guess you...” He trails off, unsure of how to finish.
You blink again, taking in the situation before offering him a small, tired smile. “I forgave you,” you say softly, resting your head back against his chest. “I know it was an accident.”
Deuce stares down at you, his heart swelling with relief and gratitude. “I’ll fix it,” he promises again, his voice firm. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll make it right.”
You shake your head, your hand coming up to rest gently against his chest. “It’s okay. You don’t have to fix it. Just... don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? I don’t want you to feel guilty about something you didn’t mean to do.”
He’s quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in. Then, slowly, he nods, his arms tightening around you in a protective embrace. “I’ll do better,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to hurt you, ever.”
You smile softly, nuzzling into his warmth. “You’re not going to. You’re doing just fine.”
Deuce presses a kiss to the top of your head, his heart full of love and determination. He may not always get things right, and he might mess up from time to time, but he’s going to keep trying—for you.
As long as you’re by his side, he knows he can keep working to be better, to make up for his mistakes and be the person you deserve.
And as you both drift back to sleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms, Deuce can’t help but feel incredibly grateful that, no matter what happens, you’re always there to forgive him.
Masterlist
Help Mohamed and His Family Escape Gaza for a Safe Future ❤️🩹🍉
Dear Friends,
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I worked alongside my father and brothers in our family business, manufacturing aluminum windows, which was our primary source of income. 🌟
However, the relentless conditions in Gaza have left us with no space for stability. Our home has suffered partial damage, and our apartments have been severely affected.
We have been forced to relocate multiple times from northern Gaza, where we live, to the south due to ongoing evacuations. These repeated moves have left us in a constant state of uncertainty and intensified our struggles. 🏠💔
My wife, Aya, is under immense psychological strain as she strives to keep our children’s lives stable amid these harsh conditions. Our children have fallen ill due to the deteriorating health and environmental conditions, and we are deeply concerned for their well-being and future. Their education is also at risk because of the severe economic difficulties we face. 😔👶
We are launching this campaign to secure a safe and stable future for our family.
We desperately need financial support to cover living expenses, provide essential medical care for our children, and ensure their education. Additionally, we are contemplating traveling through the Rafah border in search of safety and stability abroad. This journey involves significant costs for travel, accommodation, and establishing a new environment where we can rebuild our lives. 🌍💼
The emotional and physical toll on our family has been immense. Each day, we grapple with the fear of what tomorrow might bring, and the uncertainty of our children’s future weighs heavily on us. Your support can help lift this burden and provide us with a glimmer of hope. 💖
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In this pivotal moment, we hope you will stand with us, offering your support so we can fulfill our dream of a dignified and stable life. Your compassion and solidarity are the sources of strength and hope that keep us moving forward. 🌟
With heartfelt thanks and gratitude,❤️🍉
Mohamed Nabeel Alanqar
@nairoz @@el-shab-huseen @90-ghost @sar-soor @apollos-olives @northgazaupdates2 @palestine @nabulsi @fluka
Please verify my campaign to start 🙏
thats why i sent it 😼😼
Forgiveness - Deuce Spade x reader
When Deuce accidentally breaks an item that you treasured, he's worries that he's broken your trust as well. But there's nothing that can't be fixed with a hug and an apology.
Hurt/Comfort for the soul!
You stare at the broken shards scattered on the floor, your breath caught in your throat. The silence in the room is thick, the weight of what just happened sinking in like a stone in your chest.
Deuce stands across from you, frozen in place, his hands half-raised as if he’s unsure of what to do. His wide eyes are locked on the remnants of the object you’ve cherished since you first arrived in Twisted Wonderland. He stammers, trying to form words that will make this better, but nothing comes out.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know it was so fragile.”
You know he didn’t mean to. You know it wasn’t on purpose. But that doesn’t stop the sting from cutting deeper than you expected.
The thing he’d broken—a keepsake from your world, one of the few precious items you’d been able to bring with you—was irreplaceable. Now it was just a collection of shattered pieces, and you couldn’t stop the tears welling up in your eyes. You quickly turn away, not wanting him to see.
“I just— I’ll clean it up. I’ll fix this somehow.” Deuce’s voice breaks with guilt, but you can’t face him right now.
Without saying a word, you step over the mess and grab your jacket. You need air, space, something to calm the storm inside your chest. “I’m going for a walk,” you manage, your voice clipped, and before Deuce can respond, you’re out the door.
The cool evening breeze hits your face as you walk aimlessly through the grounds. You keep telling yourself it was an accident, that Deuce didn’t mean to break the one thing you held dear from your old life. And deep down, you already know you’ll forgive him—you always do. But right now, you just need a moment to yourself, a chance to clear your head.
By the time you circle back to the dorm, the night has grown darker, and the tension in your chest has begun to ease. You take a deep breath before stepping inside, telling yourself that you’ll talk to Deuce, that everything will be fine. You already know he’s beating himself up about it. He doesn’t need you adding to his guilt.
When you walk into the common room, though, the sight before you stops you in your tracks.
Deuce is curled up on the couch, asleep. He looks uncomfortable, his long legs hanging awkwardly off the end, and his jacket is bunched up beneath him like a makeshift pillow. His face is peaceful, but there’s a slight frown pulling at his brow, even in sleep.
You exhale softly, the last of your anger slipping away completely. He must’ve assumed you were still mad—mad enough to not want to share a bed with him tonight. So, he’d opted for the couch, giving you space even though it was clear he wasn’t comfortable.
Guilt washes over you. Deuce may be a little impulsive, a little clumsy, but his heart is always in the right place. And you know, without a doubt, that he didn’t mean to hurt you by breaking your keepsake. He just... messed up. Like he sometimes does.
Silently, you walk over to the couch and crouch down beside him. His face is relaxed now, his breathing slow and steady, and the sight tugs at your heartstrings. You reach out and gently brush a lock of his hair away from his forehead.
“I forgive you,” you whisper, even though he can’t hear you. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
Standing up, you carefully ease yourself onto the couch beside him, slipping under the blanket he’d half-thrown over himself. It’s cramped, and there’s barely enough room for both of you, but you manage to snuggle close, resting your head against his chest.
Almost instinctively, Deuce shifts in his sleep, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you closer. You feel his body relax even more, and you can’t help but smile softly at the way he always sleeps better when you’re near.
The tension in your own body melts away, and before you know it, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you into sleep.
When Deuce wakes up, the first thing he notices is the warmth. His arm is wrapped around something solid and familiar, and it takes him a few seconds to realize it’s you, nestled against his chest, still fast asleep. His eyes widen in surprise, his heart skipping a beat as he processes the fact that you’re here with him, not angry, not distant—here.
He carefully shifts to get a better look at your face, his movements slow and cautious as if he’s afraid that waking you might shatter this moment. You’re breathing softly, your face peaceful, and he can’t help but feel a surge of relief wash over him.
You’ve forgiven him.
Deuce’s chest tightens with emotion as he remembers the events from earlier—the way your expression had fallen when the keepsake had shattered, the hurt in your eyes as you walked out the door. He’d been certain he’d ruined everything, that you wouldn’t be able to forgive him this time. The fact that you’re here now, curled up with him on the couch, is almost too much for him to believe.
He swallows hard, his throat tight with gratitude. “You... came back,” he whispers, even though he knows you’re still asleep. His hand tightens slightly around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as he presses his cheek against your hair and he takes a shuddering breath.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice barely audible in the quiet room. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
You stir slightly at the sound of his voice, your eyelids fluttering open. Deuce freezes, holding his breath as you blink up at him, still half-asleep but clearly aware of where you are.
“Deuce?” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. “Why are you...?”
He clears his throat, looking down at you with a sheepish expression. “I thought... I thought you’d want space after... you know, what happened. So, I slept out here. But then... I guess you...” He trails off, unsure of how to finish.
You blink again, taking in the situation before offering him a small, tired smile. “I forgave you,” you say softly, resting your head back against his chest. “I know it was an accident.”
Deuce stares down at you, his heart swelling with relief and gratitude. “I’ll fix it,” he promises again, his voice firm. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll make it right.”
You shake your head, your hand coming up to rest gently against his chest. “It’s okay. You don’t have to fix it. Just... don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? I don’t want you to feel guilty about something you didn’t mean to do.”
He’s quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in. Then, slowly, he nods, his arms tightening around you in a protective embrace. “I’ll do better,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to hurt you, ever.”
You smile softly, nuzzling into his warmth. “You’re not going to. You’re doing just fine.”
Deuce presses a kiss to the top of your head, his heart full of love and determination. He may not always get things right, and he might mess up from time to time, but he’s going to keep trying—for you.
As long as you’re by his side, he knows he can keep working to be better, to make up for his mistakes and be the person you deserve.
And as you both drift back to sleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms, Deuce can’t help but feel incredibly grateful that, no matter what happens, you’re always there to forgive him.
Masterlist
... i physically cant do this anymore
Thanks for tagging me, @chaoticfandomgirly !❤️
And the lucky man is…
D.C.I. Mike McGuire from Whitstable Pearl!
Don’t mind if I do! A lovably grumpy bear of a man, who I would climb like a tree given half the chance!
I tag @all-or-nothing-baby @guiltypleasurefandomface @fireladybuckley @kinkykinard @a-victorian-girl @katries and anyone else who wants to play. No pressure on anyone who doesn’t!😘