'he looks like he's always looking at us'

fastbak83  asked:

I'm just curious about what your thoughts were regarding Keanu's martial art's abilities and his growth/development between the Matrix Trilogy and the John Wick series? (Obviously I realize you're not a hater lol)

I kind of touched on this yesterday but I’ll give a longer answer today…

I’ve always been impressed by Keanu’s martial arts skills. Even in “The Matrix” where, granted, he looks a little clunky at times (the Morpheus/Neo fight is awkward in places) I think he does a fucking good job of pulling off the choreography. A really good job, actually. As we go through the film, he gets better and better. He genuinely looks like he got used to the choreography and was able to loosen up a little. By the time he’s twatting Agent Smith in the face, he looks incredible.
And he only got better in the sequels. Okay, so they might not be better as films, but I think he looked better. More…fluid, if you will. And I’ve watched all the behind the scenes shit. It seems he adapted to movie fighting as well as anyone could.
Then there’s “Man of Tai Chi”. Now, I got into a bit of trouble saying he looked a bit shit in this one, but someone informed me that Keanu was recovering from neck surgery and that’s why he looked so stiff. If that’s why, then kudos to him. He powered through a fucked up neck and didn’t look that bad. A bit stiff but nothing worse.
Oh and anybody that thinks his stiffness is meant to mirror the fluidity of Tai Chi? Fuck off. If you think the film is that deep, you’re having a laugh.
“Man of Tai Chi” is a solid b-movie. It’s silly and shallow but it has some solid fights. Not many for Keanu and when he does pop up it’s in a very daft finale, but, otherwise, it’s fine. Stiff fighting is only a bit shitty. I’ve seen much, much worse.
Then there’s “John Wick”. I don’t know how (well, I do know how…he trained his bollocks off) but, all of a sudden, he became this unbelievable action star. All the praise he gets is well deserved. He looks excellent in those films. Sure, he’s come a long way from the traditional kicks and punches of Yuen Woo Ping’s and Tiger Chen’s choreography but that doesn’t really matter. He’s pretty good at the ol’ Jiujitsu stuff. Especially for a bloke in his fifties.
I love his physicality in “John Wick”. He’s the bee’s knees. In fact, I’d like to see him in more action roles. I know the “John Wick” films are all about the crew. Stunt coordinators and whatnot. But Keanu obviously adapts to action very, very well.
I honestly think he’s in a league of his own, action-wise. I know he hasn’t done a lot but he’s proven himself capable of doing all sorts over the years and he deserves a bloody good round of applause.

Chrobin Week - Day 3 - Halloween

In Ylisse Halloween is celebrated with sweets and scary stories. Lissa always enjoyed scaring her fellow Shepherds, and everyone knew how Gaius was looked forward to stocking up on sugar. Chrom, of course, enjoyed some confectionary treats, but he never liked the spooky stories that Lissa and Emmeryn used to tell him late at night. But it hit him on the day of Halloween – Robin has no memories of the holiday.
Turns out Chrom was wrong. As he was heading to the dining hall he passed Lissa, who looked absolutely shaken. He tried asking her what was wrong, but she waved him off and kept walking. When he entered the room, Robin leapt from behind a pillar, shouting. Chrom jumped, slipped, and fell on his backside. Robin burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. Chrom was still shaking, but joined in.
“Gods, Robin. I didn’t expect that from you!” Chrom chuckled.
“Well, I did some research. I suspected Lissa was going to try to pull a scare on me, so I decided to beat her to it.” Robin replied, holding out his hand for Chrom to take.
“I expect no less from our prized tactician!” Chrom said, standing a pulling his love into a tight embrace.
“Happy Halloween, Chrom.” Robin chuckled.

Everyone is getting Camp Camp Season 2 finale wrong

It seems that everyone has agreed that the season 2 finale is of David choosing Max over Camp Cambell.


Originally posted by emilyelizabethfowl

But everyone forgets what happened just before the gif.

David Isn’t looking at the camp and all his other happy campers.

He is looking at Cameron Cambell.

He chose the camp over Cameron.

Let me explain further.

In the first season we see that David absolutely adores Cameron. He loves him like a father. He worships Cameron. He used a child as a human shield against the FBI and David didn’t hate him on the spot.

But as Max gets to him, shows him things aren’t always happy and good, David starts to admit some truths to himself.


What he loves so much isn’t as important to Cameron.

In season two, David is forced to confront how Cameron uses both him and the campers for his own personal gains as you see in the egg episode and how he is using the camp as a cover that he wasn’t in Russia.


But parents day changed that.

David watched as Cameron lied and tried to pretend he cared and knew what he was doing.

“Wether it’s nerd camp for… Neeeil?”

“Or Adventure camp for… Girl Neil!”

Everything was about not going to jail, not making sure the campers were actually happy and having fun.

And look at how David was treated behind the stage.

David looks surprised that Cameron is talking so seriously to him. It starts off gentle. “David I know you never let me down before,”

“And I know you never will.”

Cameron aims his anger about what is happening on David because he knows time and again that David would just take it. He won’t fight for himself.

Cameron doesn’t care about anything David does. When the whole camp is in jeopardy, what does Cameron focus on?

“Or I’m going to super Guantanamo.”

He doesn’t want to face the consequences of his lies, crime and scams. And David finally saw that. It wasn’t until he sees the activity form that he realizes parents, birth or parental figures, can fail you.

Originally posted by zarryya

David finally understands where Max is coming from, and in that light sees that he has two choices to chose from.

1) Keep following Cameron and ignore the needs of his beloved campers

Or

2) Turn his back on Cameron Cambell and focus on the needs of Camp Cambell.


Originally posted by emilyelizabethfowl

David had a choice in this scene. And he chose Camp Cambell, he chose his campers over the man he saw as a father.


David would never chose something other than Camp Cambell. That is his whole life. But he would chose the campers, and focus on the one camper who isn’t having fun, and give him the individual attention he deserves.

top 10 phan moments that make me wanna rip my heart out

yeah, just ten moments among hundreds, let it be part one or something. tell me what i’ve missed because i want more suffering in my life.

10) mind control.

i mean, i appreciate the subtlety. i crave those tiny moments that you only notice when someone points them out to you. but this! you can’t miss this one, this moment is shoved down our throats. this is so “i’m allowed to do that to you, to be in your personal space, and gaze into your eyes for no reason, just because i want to”. and phil’s face in that moment, so much joy and mischief, he claps his hands and gazes back.

9) chest touch.

drama queen howell strikes again, it hurts to rewatch it srsly, why is he so extra? but what is phil doing ladies and gents? he slaps his chest in the weirdest way possible, he brushes it, it’s like he wants to shove him but reassuringly and the movement happens so fast you have to pause for a second to comprehend it. that sweet gentle boy is so fond of dan’s unnecessary commentary and yeah, it completely distracts us from what dan is saying at that moment.

8) feel my heartbeat.

was that necessary, really? like, i don’t ask my friends to feel my heartbeat when i’m scared, that was such a “horror movie at first date” bullshit, that’s not what people do?? and when dan does feel that beautiful hummingbird heart, phil just covers his hand with his own palm because yes, you gotta feel it very close, no air between your hand and my chest. dan immediately looks into the camera to show us that yeah, i know you’re there, nothing strange, and makes a comment about phil dying. wow.

7) phil the delivery man.

i don’t know what to say. it’s so simple but why does phil have to make such an act of bringing dan his charger, why does he talk in that stupid voice?? they have a banter, and then phil FIXES DAN’S CHARGER FOR HIM, like what?? who asked you to do that? where’s my IT guy au (literally, he’s got glasses, look at him). and before he leaves he plays the piano that nerd, what an attention seeker, and then bows!! is he tipsy? did he have a pre-liveshow orgasm or something? dan laughs fondly and it’s all i need in the world.

6) child beer.

what’s happening and does it even matter. phil’s hiding on the floor, but why? to surprise us? eh whatever. so he’s got that magical japanese powdery stuff and he wants dan to taste it. the biggest problem for me here, ahem, i mean the thing that just kills me every time is that phil spends the whole time (eight minutes) on his knees and he looks so cute when he makes that beer, holds it close to the camera, and then lets the foam sit so dan can have the ultimate child beer experience.

it reminds me of that hot chocolate video, where he does something so trivial but he’s so gentle and loving about it. i still don’t understand why they didn’t do a simple taste test like bros, but phil had to make it for dan, he wanted to see his reaction. and then he tries it as well, touches the glass rim with his lips at the same place where dan’s mouth just was (gross).

and i just can’t ignore how that boy sneaks past dan’s room after that, he’s playful, he stops to say that he googled something and dan was wrong, and domesticity, i wanna die.

5) sleeping phil on tour.

i kinda wanna talk about the angle here because i don’t understand how it was filmed (camera is pretty static, dan’s hand reaches from the side, not behind), but i don’t know if it matters here. what matters is how gentle dan is. of course, he starts with classic nose tickling, which is what “messing with a sleeping friend” usually implies, but then he frees one strand of phil’s hair and just lets it fall. wow, fantastic prank, dan.

and let’s separately discuss that pout/kiss phil does after he opens his eyes. i know you want a slow mo replay, so here we go:

that’s what i call “im gonna stay asleep but i love you”. where’s the nearest cliff so i can fling myself into abyss?

4) the look.

context what context. why did they keep it? why did they put it on fullscreen instead of hiding in the corner? two full-length looks dan, really?? you know what he looks like, why do you have to examine him like that in front of us you slut. and it just passes, without acknowledgment, they just turn back at us simultaneously and I’M STILL DEAD at that moment, i don’t care what happens next.

3) snoot. proot. (i just filmed you doing that)

i don’t even care what it was. something about piano sounds or whatever, but this video haunts me. THERE’S SO MUCH TO IT. first, phil is lying on dan’s bed (at least in the official version it’s dan’s, not mutual), just chilling?? and dan’s working i guess. so they are not actually doing something together but it’s a cozy evening, why would they spend it in different rooms? dan says something, idk, and phil replies “yeah” in that deep voice I SWEAR i haven’t heard from him before. dan makes the sounds again, like can you believe he’s an actual dork in real life, it’s not an act, he’s actually the weirdest boy alive, and he so obviously doesn’t know he’s being filmed. because when phil says “i just filmed you doing that you’re so weird”, he’s so delighted, he laughs at himself, he turns around, his hair is pushed back omg they are both so sleepy and i rejoice. i think this video gives us a rare but fantastic insight in their everyday life, phil must be keeping so much silly videos like that on his google drive and we never get to see them BUT SOMEHOW he posts this one, probably because dan is cute and he wants everyone to know it.

2) you loved it. you wanna do it more.

so, yes. you know this one. where do i even begin?? they play this dragon quiz and then 1) phil says “you loved it” in the strangest voice, like the voice we never hear from him, it’s deeper and quieter, he looks at dan even though dan’s not looking back; 2) dan is looking down as if he’s fiddling with an ipad or something, it’s almost a bts moment, something they would usually edit out. AND THEN THREE SECONDS OF SILENCE while dan kinda processes what’s going on and phil still looks at him expectantly. seductive as fuck. and now this quiet “alright”, i’m just… dan looks like he’s gotten the hint, so he’s a little embarrassed and they share the softest laugh. 

the thing is, we know how often phil makes sexual innuendos and dan always reacts the same way: he looks into the camera, he throws a witty comment in, he puts it on display to show us that there’s no intimacy in that moment. but not this time. i don’t understand why they didn’t edit it out. i just… don’t.

1) pantless liveshow
this is the ultimate. this is the weirdest and the most awesome thing these two gave me and i’m not even sure what can top that. the moment when phil decides to grab the humidifier and show us, he looks at the screen, says “one second” and stands up very awkwardly while dan turns the laptop away from him and makes the weirdest “how you doing” face. 

WHAT THE FUCK. did they think we were so used to them weirdos that we wouldn’t even notice that shit? but fuck, they do it again, they want to show us the spray and dan goes “should i go get it? you have to do phil’s corner”. like, i can’t function, i honestly can’t. AND THE WORST PART is when dan returns and we can see him covering his legs with a blanket just too fast like it’s not that cold boy come on.

i have no explanation and i have every explanation. i don’t deserve all this suffering.

Voltron prompt

Altea orphanage.

That is where they all met. They were all orphaned at young ages and and over time they formed strong bonds between each other.

The first to go was Allura. her uncle Coran heard about her fathers death, and while he was just a young man, he couldn’t stand to see Alura go to some other family. 

Next to go was Hunk. He was adopted by a nice woman who’s husband had died and she wanted a child but not without her husband.

Then it was Pidge. She was more adopted by her new brother than the couple. The two of them instantly hitting it off and were practically inseparable.

So it was just Keith, Shiro, and Lance left. They became closer then all the other kids. Always together, holding hands, sharing lunches. They were best friends and nothing could take that away from them.

Nothing except adoption.

Keith and Shiro were adopted in the same week, leaving Lance alone at the orphanage. After he was left alone, he closed himself off. He didn’t talk to other kids, didn’t play like he used to, and didn’t engage when couples came in looking to adopt.

Years went by and his memories of his best friends began to fade away. He still missed them but now he couldn’t remember how they looked or if he would even recognize them if he saw them again. If they would remember him.

He started helping out in the orphanage more. playing with the younger kids and helping the new arrivals to adjust. Soon all the kids loved him and if they ever needed anything they would go to him for help. So When Lance turned Eighteen he was asked by Altea orphanage to stay and work with the kids, he accepted.

One day while he was helping one of the kids while also trying to feed one of the new babies, he was called to the front desk.

Standing in the front hall was five people. Five people that looked like complete strangers but also looked very familiar.

Realization dawned on him moments later and he rushed to hug the people he had missed for so long.

With everybody securely wrapped around Lance, Pidge broke the silence with words that brought tears to his eyes.

“You don’t know how long we’ve been looking for you.”

Landlord is jealous of my income, raises my rent $500. I screw him years later for $20k.

All names have been changed. Long story:

In the late ‘90s wife and I were just married, just getting started, and we decided to DINK (“double income, no kids”) it for a few years to save up for a down payment on a house.

The dotcom bubble was still rising and I was a newly minted software developer. I had an entry-level job for a while and then got recruited to a new city and a new job that paid 3x what I was making before. It was an offer too good to pass up. I ran the numbers and it was a no-brainer: by living frugally and saving my entire salary, living off just her income, we would easily have enough in a year to put 20% down payment on a new house.

We rented an apartment in the new city that was listed for $950/mo. The landlord was a real estate agent who owned a two-bedroom condo as an investment property. Let’s call him “Hank Wazowski”. Hank was a thin, gray, no-nonsense guy. He was pleasant enough, but perfunctory, dry, and had no sense of humor. He made a point of explaining that under no circumstances was he responsible for maintaining the garbage disposal and that it was NOT included in the rental agreement and he would not be responsible for fixing it were it to break. Um, ok.

Keep reading

Borrowed Time

The series where Harry is mute

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Y/n never went back home. Instead, she spends winter break in the confines of Harry’s apartment—wrapped up in between his bedsheets to keep warm.

The usually cold and brutal winter that always made their skin numb is now warm to them—skin always accompanied by one another’s and feeling more than ever before. And with the mix of never ending company and the feel of the music that always seems to be playing in his apartment, they couldn’t have asked for a better way to start off their relationship.

They never do anything extravagant—never do anything that could take time away from one another. It’s in their simplicity do they find a sense of comfort throughout the festive season. They feel happiest in their own little world—away from everything and everyone, just focusing on them being together without any distractions.

With being so consumed by one another, they’ve learned more about each other than ever before—spending most days watching their favorite movies and baking new recipes they found in Harry’s favorite Christmas cookbook and spending the nights cuddled up against one another as Y/n somehow finds new things to talk about.

Each day, they fall in love with each other all over again. It’s as if their hearts unravel and trap each other in—giving them no means of escape, but neither of them want to.

Whenever she spends the night at his apartment, Harry has to spend nearly an hour each morning just to fight her from getting out of bed. It’s become a routine, Harry having to pull her from the edge of the bed so that he can cradle her back in his arms while she giggles and mumbles some excuses he doesn’t have the energy to listen to.

He just really, really, really loves the feel of her first thing in the morning, especially when the brutal feel of the blistering winds finds its way to his apartment. She’s much warmer than usual and her eyes are brighter and always glistened against the sun. Her lips, too—they are always so much fuller somehow that even in his mild awareness, he finds himself kissing them before he finally lets her slip away from the comfort of the sheets.

But this morning—this morning is different.

After a Christmas night filled with passion and inexperienced intimacy, Harry really doesn’t want to let her go. He’d much rather feel her uncovered body up against his all morning—soaking each other up and holding one another until the sun sets into the night.

It just sounds so right, to keep each other near and close after giving each other their last bit of innocence. Everything they had to offer one another was taken and used to make them whole, so that’s how they should be—together and whole for as long as they possibly can.

But when Harry feels Y/n begin to stir her way out of his arms, he knows she has very different plans.

And he’s just not having it.

He whimpers in his slumbered state, pulling her back against his chest with eyes half-lidded and breathing still steady. He’s holding onto her like never before, refusing to feel her side of the bed empty. He needs her, her, her, anywhere and everywhere as long as it’s with him. And despite having every bit of her last night, he hasn’t gotten enough and he needs her more.

She giggles softly against his neck, gingerly kissing the exposed skin as her fingers run along his jaw. She can already feel him falling back asleep from her touch, a content sigh leaving his lips at their closeness.

“Love, I gotta get up. Y’know me, can’t stay in bed once I’m awake.”

He groans as he shakes his head, somehow filling up the smallest of empty spaces between them and tucking his head into her shoulder. His nose is right up against her skin and he can smell her usual scent—vanilla and lavender from her usual body wash but much more filthy than usual.

She giggles again when she feels his bottom lip poke at her shoulder, her fingers reaching to his hair as she combs through it.

“Oh, none of that, H.” She tisks, thumbing the very exaggerated pout on his lips. “I’ll be right downstairs, won’t be going anywhere far.”

He rolls his body off of her, his back hitting against the mattress with a whine. His eyes remain closed but there’s a very noticeable furrow between his brows, and Y/n begins to wonder what he’s so worried about.

She frowns down at him, observing the rise of his goosebumps from the morning cold on his bare chest. It looks empty and lifeless without her head upon it, and though his body is no stranger to her, there’s something about it that seems much more inviting and she yearns to keep it closer than ever.

And she gets it—she gets his exaggerated whining and the worry in his eyes. After everything that happened to them the night before, he can’t leave her—he can't—and that’s exactly what she’s doing to him, even if it’s only a floor away.

Almost as if to reassure him, she goes with the feel of her heart and decides to spend the next couple hours of the freezing morning right beside him.


Harry loves watching Y/n in her most natural hours.

Her chest and elbows are leaning against the surface of the kitchen counter, one hand holding a mug of coffee while the other flips the pages of her favorite poetry book. Her upper body is clad with Harry’s favorite sweatshirt—ending right at the end of her underwear—leaving her legs exposed and on full display for all of Harry to see.

Despite her hair fully knotted and having an overall disheveled look to her, Harry decides that she looks best this way—in a way nobody other than him has gotten the chance to see—as if she was made for his eyes only.

And he has never seen such a beautiful sight in his life as she looks at him with the softest and most delicate of eyes, a small smile resting on her lips at his presence. Every bit of her looks inviting—like a place of comfort Harry could forever shield himself in.

She’s become so much more than his girlfriend—so much more than someone to call his own—she’s become his muse and his home, his haven and everything in between.

“You always look at me with longing even when I’m right here with you.”

He blinks at her, watching as her cheeks flush with pink under the watch of his amused eyes, loving how easily tranced he becomes in her.

She’s never been confident in herself. Ever since she was a little girl, she used her friendliness to somehow distract people from what she truly felt on the inside. She never truly touched base with her insecurities and never wanted to, so she always found ways to push the most damaging thoughts in the back of her head.

But Harry changed everything. He made her feel beautiful and loved in every way possible, she almost doesn’t understand how he could have so much of that love in him—especially for her. From the way he holds her all throughout the night to the small kisses and gestures whenever he has the chance, she feels it everywhere and she almost feels it in herself.

His sheepish smile confirms her statement, knowing fully that there will never be a moment he doesn’t want her, no matter where she is.

He walks slowly over to her, the smile never fading from his lips and the blush creeping back to Y/n’s cheeks as she turns her body to stretch her arms out at him. It’s the smallest moments like this that make them grateful for the kind of love they share—together.

He presses his lips to hers tenderly when he feels her fingers run across his stomach, his own fingers pushing the material of his sweatshirt up towards her breasts so that he can brush against the swell of them.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, quickly returning back to her lips as they softly release a whimper from the detachment.

She tastes so good—a mix of bitter and sweet from her coffee, leaving his mouth wanting more and more with each passing second. And what was supposed to be innocent turned to lust before they knew it—their movements much more haste and impatient.

In the midst of their desperation, Harry pushes her hips further against the edge of the counter, fingers digging into her skin as his mouth parts open with hers. They both moan into one another, completely consumed by the feeling of their relentless hands and feverish kisses.

Her hands are against his stomach, rubbing along his torso when he hitches her legs around his waist, leaving Harry in control of whatever it is that’s unfolding. Her squeal turns into a moan when his hips collide with hers, the friction making her head spin and body yearn for more.

He feels her hands creep toward the waistband of his sweatpants while his hands bundle up the sweatshirt over her breasts so that they’re fully exposed to him—revealing the most delicate parts of her.

And right as his lips attach to the valley of them, the ringing of the telephone breaks them from their moment.

“H—Harry, the phone.” Y/n gasps.

But he shows no sign of stopping when his teeth sink into an already bruised hickie from the night before, leaving her with shaking fingers between his hair and withering from the soreness. And he really can’t stop, because she feels like no other and she’s so addicting in every way possible. He wants her all to himself.

The answering machine almost dissolves into pure background noise for the both of them, too caught up in the moment.

“Hi, Harry, it’s your mum.”

Only five words and Harry feels the air being knocked right out of his lungs—seizing all his movements and thoughts as Y/n is left completely confused and panting upon the kitchen counter.

"I know it’s been a while and a lot has ended quite messy, but your father does miss you and well—we all miss you, Harry. We would really love for you to come over for dinner tonight as a late Christmas celebration. You don’t have to, but we’ll have an extra seat for you. And—uh—I love you so much. I wish you the best. Please call me soon.”

It’s as if the world around him is spinning faster than ever before—his brain overwhelmed with scrambled thoughts and ears ringing from the anxiety.

There would have been nothing to prepare him for this moment. He never thought he’d ever see his father again—much less be invited back over to his house after everything that’s happened. It’s been so long, he genuinely thought it was over—he thought all of the pain and fear was over, but his biggest nightmare is coming to life and he feels sick to his stomach.

His father is why he’s like this—mute and anxious in social situations. If his dad hadn’t repeatedly torn him down for never being good enough—hadn’t made him believe nobody would ever talk to a little shy boy—he would have probably gained the confidence to speak the more he matured.

But because his father shunned him for being shy and never making any friends, Harry was terrified of what people would think of him if he ever did make friends. Because if his own father didn’t love him, how could anybody else?

Y/n notices the tears in his eyes and his shallow breathing, which she’s quick to mend when her hands reach up to his cheeks. They’re hot and flushed, but all for the wrong reasons.

She frowns, lips peppering small kisses along his face in an attempt to bring him back to her. She doesn’t know much—or really anything—about Harry’s family life; all she knows is that she has never seen a picture of them in his house or any validation that he ever truly had one.

But as she catches the glimpse of fear in his eyes and the small quivering of his lips, he knows very well that there must have been something that went wrong. And even if she doesn’t know what it is that he went through, she knows that if he decides to do this or not, she’ll be right there with him.

“You’re scared.” She whispers, thumbs rubbing against his cheeks softly. “What is it you’re afraid of, baby? Talk to me, please.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his lips pursing together as loose tears fall from his eyes.

He’s never talked about his family problems and because all of this has happened so quickly, his words get trapped in his throat. To genuinely talk about his family and come to terms with his emotions seems all too much for him, especially when it’s hard for him to speak in the first place.

Y/n clicks her tongue while shaking her head softly, wrapping her around his neck as he nests his cheek into her shoulder. His muscles instantly relax in her arms and has a sense of clarity in her comfort, but there’s still an undeniable thumping in his chest that just can’t seem to go away.

“You don’t have to talk about this, love, but maybe this will be good for you. You know, to test the waters with your family. Maybe this could help you in the long run.”

And he wants to believe her—he really, really fucking wants to believe her—but he knows he can’t. Anywhere in his father’s path is detrimental to Harry’s social anxiety and he knows it’ll only make this worse for him in the long run.

“Y/n.” Harry groans, detaching her arms from his neck so that he can stand properly. His teeth are grit and eyes are distant—looking anywhere but her own and he swallows thickly around his words. “There’s a reason I don’t talk to anybody.”

His words are cracked and desperate—like a plea for Y/n to understand that this is different, that there will never be a day he’ll be able to face his problems. There have been too many times he’s found his way back and he always walks away with a damaged heart.

Y/n watches the way his fingers fiddle around one another and how he can’t stand still, it’s like watching the battle in Harry’s head and watching him fall apart from it.

And no matter how much she loves him now—the way he is now, even without much speaking—she doesn’t want to watch him suffer for the rest of his life. He’s the most undeserving man, he deserves the world and she knows he does.

His heart is nothing but pure and damaged—in need of mending and love. It’s the best part of him, really. It’s what brought them together and she feels the need to protect it at all costs.

He doesn’t feel it, though. He doesn’t feel what his heart has to offer and doesn’t see how it makes him so strong. He only sees himself as a ruin—a lost cause with nothing left to fight for, and he doesn’t deserve it. After what he’s been through, she needs him to understand that he is so much more than he thinks he is.

Because he is—he really is—no matter what he believes.

She holds his head in her hands to distract him from his consuming thoughts. His eyes shift in her gaze as he lets out a small breath.

“I just think it’ll be best to try again. I know—I see how hard it is for you to live the way that you do and I want to be here for you through everything. Things could be different this time—things could actually end well and you might be able to push through this. Because I know you, Harry, more than anybody else right now and I know you can push through this.”

She presses her forehead against his with a sigh leaving her lips, her thumbs running along his knuckles.

“And if there is any point you feel uncomfortable or upset, we can walk right out and leave. Just know that I will be there for you no matter what, okay? Just asking for you to try.”

It’s because she sounds so sure of herself that Harry actually agrees to go to the dinner. He knows that if it were a matter of him going alone, he would never even consider it. But knowing she is going to be right by his side—holding his hand through it all—maybe he doesn’t have to be so scared.

Maybe, it’ll actually be different this time.


It’s not different.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s really not any different than he expected it to be.

Upon their arrival, Harry’s mum and sister nearly fainted from seeing him at the front door. They thought their invitation would go dismissed, like the way Harry’s ignored them for the past three years. But looking at him for the first time in what felt like forever, they were nothing short of thrilled.

And to make it even better, he brought a girl. Harry was holding her hand tightly, keeping her tucked right into his side so that he could feel her with every step he took.

Anne and Gemma swore they had never seen something so heartwarming in their life—to the point where tears sprung from their eyes and arms flinging around their bodies. Y/n didn’t even have to introduce herself properly for them to love and approve of her, anybody who gets Harry to open up—in any way possible—is enough for them.

He was calm when it was just the four of them, Harry watching Y/n hit it off with his family so effortlessly. He noticed the fondness in all their eyes and this was how he wanted it to be forever.

But once they sat down for dinner, Harry knew something was about to happen.

His father didn’t acknowledge neither him nor Y/n in the slightest. Instead, he acted as if they weren’t there and only carried conversations with the rest of his family. And Harry wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way or not—wasn’t sure if he’d rather have his father at least notice him and hate him or have his father neglect him.

Y/n was trying to make the best out of the situation and he could tell. She found her way to the conversations even if his father didn’t respond to her, and still remained her perky self while doing so. She seemed unfazed through it all, almost like she didn’t feel the overwhelming amount of tension that surrounded the room.

She does it for him, though. She knew that if she showed just how uncomfortable his father was making her—he’d never be able to survive this dinner. She had to play strong enough for his sake.

But now that dinner has passed by and all that’s left are empty plates of food and mindless mingling, Harry feels nothing short of uncomfortable and misplaced under his father’s glare. It’s as if he’s waiting for Harry to speak out in the conversation, or do much of anything to make his presence known.

Y/n can see the soft shaking of Harry’s head and can feel the sweat on his palms with each passing second—just waiting for the end of the night so that they can go home and be alone at last.

“You know, Y/n, I never thought Harry would have a girlfriend.”

It’s the first time tonight his father spoke to Y/n directly, making the conversation she was having with Gemma come to a pause as she looked over at him with confusion. There’s a small pout on her lips as she tilts her head in question, almost unsure as to what he was implying. He has no expression on his face, only a small scoff and disapproving look in his eyes.

“How so? He’s lovely, any girl would be very lucky to have him. I’m just happy it’s me who does.”

Her fingers squeeze his thigh under the tablecloth; as if to tell him that there’s nothing to worry about. If his father wants to try hard enough to get to Harry, he has to try to get through her, first.

His father grumbles, his eyes shifting away from hers. The tenseness is his body seems to lighten, though, when an almost sadistic laugh falls from his lips—finding whatever he’s thinking quite amusing and entertaining.

“Isn’t it disheartening? Doesn’t it get boring, to be with a little boy who can’t even get his mouth to open? You seem to be a very intelligent, mature lady—I can tell by the way you talk. Don’t you think it’s a man’s purpose to be with somebody like you?”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, trying to silence the sudden voices in his head and focus on the feel of Y/n’s tightening hand.

All the childhood fights, all the times Harry had crawled underneath his bed during the night to get away from it all, and all the times Harry almost had the guts to speak up for himself only to be shut down from his father are all replaying in Harry’s head.

The anxiety creeps to his bones and in his muscles, straining him of all that’s left of his strength and leaving him with nothing but a shaking body and lack of control. Every part of him that felt alive before all of this is slowly dying at the seems—ready to be ripped out on his father’s account.

In any other situation, Y/n would have kept her mouth shut if it meant getting the support and approval of Harry’s family. But this—the way he’s talking about Harry as if he’s not right next to her, disrespecting him for something beyond his control is just not okay with her.

She’d rather stand up for the man she loves and believes in instead of watching him suffer in silence—the way his mum and sister are—with fear.

“Harry may not be a man of many words, but he’s the best thing I’ve got. There is so much more to him than his voice. There is so much more to him than you will ever know because you decided to be a shit father and give up on him without giving him a chance. He holds so much more potential than you could ever see, and that’s what’s wrong here. Harry’s not the problem, him being mute is not the problem, it’s you. Because why is it that everybody else can accept him and love him for who he is besides you?!”

The aftermath of her words silences everything around them. Nobody moves, nobody dares makes a sound besides their harsh breathing, because there could be something that makes either one of them snap and nobody wants to be the one to do so.

Y/n’s hands are in fists upon the table, eyes locked with his in fury and jaw so tight she almost doesn’t even look like herself. She’s turned into an entirely different woman with just the thought of Harry getting into harm’s way.

And although Harry really wants to show her appreciation for her words, he’s too panicked that he’s going to die from not being able to fucking breathe.

The silence is overwhelming, but Y/n is not giving up on him—on Harry. He had to live through this for far too long and she’s not allowing it anymore. He deserves better than this treatment—deserves better than to be looked down upon by somebody who’s supposed to be his provider.

“He’s the best thing you’ve got, yeah?”

His father is playing with his bottom lip, eyes narrowed and eyes in the same unpleasant manner as before. His voice is softer, though, more understanding than before and they both don’t know what to expect out of the conversation.

Y/n nods without hesitation, “He is.”

He watches as Y/n looks more determined and positive as ever, not a doubt or a trace of a lie in her features.

She means it—with her whole heart—she means it and she’ll never let anybody make her go back on her word. And she doesn’t have to say it twice, because Harry knows she’s genuine when she says it.

“You must have a very pathetic life, then.”

Harry’s eyes don’t move from their trance on the table—his body doesn’t make a move under his words. This is just how it always ends, and he just don’t know why he still fucking comes back here every goddamn time.

His throat is tight and his eyes are filled with tears. His skin is full of sweat and he swears his heart is beating much faster than it should. And even though he’s experienced this all before, knowing Y/n is being belittled by his father too makes it worse.

"We’re done here.” Y/n says sternly, grabbing ahold of Harry’s hand.

Y/n could have stood up for Harry much more, but she knew that if she started an even bigger brawl than what was already unfolding, Harry wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

He’s already drained of color and crying silently within his lost mind, and she’s absolutely terrified for his health.

She’s nearly dragging him out the door, Harry occasionally tripping over his own feet as he’s being drowned with the voices and the thumping in his chest. The world around him seems to be drowning and he can’t keep up with it all.

He just can’t.

“You can’t only keep her around because she’s the only one that’ll fight your battles for you, Harry! It’s only a matter of time before she realizes that you have nothing to offer her! You can’t give her anything with the way you are. You’re worthless!”

Before he could spew any more insults in Harry’s way, Y/n shuts the door in his face.


Harry knows his father was right.

In the long run, he doesn’t have much to offer her. He can’t be the boyfriend that she deserves to have.

He can’t be the boyfriend that can remind her of how much she’s loved or cared for. He can’t be the boyfriend to sing her to sleep whenever she can’t, or be the boyfriend to say his vows at their wedding for all to hear. He can’t be the boyfriend that—God forbid something were to happen to her—can ask for somebody to help her, or be the boyfriend to sway her family’s heart.

He can’t be anything to her besides somebody that she can sleep with at night and wake up to in the morning. Because that’s all it will be, and she’ll get so tired of being the one to be the only one talking to the other.

He’s nothing in her life, and that’s exactly why he can’t look at her anymore.

“Can you please just say something to me, Harry? I need to know why you’re upset with me or else we can never work through this.”

But how can they work through this when he can’t talk to her the way she wants him to?

Instead of answering right away, Harry presses on the gas pedal even harder than before. In the mix of all his emotions—anger, frustration, sad, and absolutely terrified—the only proper thought that can retain in Harry’s mind is dropping Y/n back to her apartment so that she doesn’t have to keep torturing herself with him.

The longer he feels her presence next to him, the more he realizes that he can’t love her the way she deserves to be loved—even if he really, really, really does love her with every ounce of his being.

“It was only—“ He swallows thickly, “It was only a matter of time before this was going to happen, Y/n.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she turns her head over to Harry, who has his lips pursed in a straight line while his eyes remain on the road.

There’s something different in him, now—something unreadable in his expressions and it’s something she’s never seen before. He seems broken somehow, like a man who’s been damaged one too many times that he’s become numb—emotionless with nothing left to feel.

“Before what was going to happen, Harry?”

She has an idea about what his words meant, but she doesn’t want to believe it. Not coming from him—not coming from the man who’s shown her nothing but how much love he has for her. There’s no way he could be doing this to her. He can’t do this to her.

“We were never going to last, Y/n. This was over long ago, we’re just on borrowed time.”

Borrowed time.

The sound of it leaves an unusually disturbing churn in Y/n’s stomach and a foul taste in her mouth. She feels as though Harry is taking his own hand and digging into Y/n’s chest, just so that he can grab ahold of Y/n’s heart and rip it to shreds himself.

Her hand subconsciously grabs onto the handle of the car door, eyes glistening with tears and lungs not daring to breathe. The air—instead of it being filled with their love—is now thicker and colder than ever.

She’s never been so confused—so lead on and so scared as to what is happening to them. They were supposed to make this last, they were supposed to make each other happy for the rest of their lives. He promised her he would, too—promised her nothing but love and trust in him.

But what is happening to them?

“How long have you thought that?”

She was tentative to ask, but she just has to know. She has to know if she’s done everything she’s done for nothing or if it actually held some sort of purpose at the time.

She’s terrified beyond words to find out the answer.

“Before or after you decided to sleep with me?”

Harry doesn’t want to make it seem like he never wanted this—never wanted her. He doesn’t want to make her think that he went through all that he did with her just to expect them to break up so soon. Because he didn’t, he never did. He would have never let her give him her virginity if he knew all of this was going to happen.

He loves her too much to do that to her, but also loves her enough to set her free.

So he decides to not answer her because not saying anything at all is easier for him than saying something he doesn’t mean. And he knows he will if it means letting her go and letting her move onto bigger and better things.

And it’s in his silence and twitch of his eyes does she find his answer.

“So you didn’t mean what you said last night. That we fit perfectly—that it’s like we’re meant to be? Or were they just words to you?”

A sob rips from inside of her when he still gives her nothing. She has never felt so hurt before—has never felt so betrayed. And suddenly, her skin feels dirty—sickened by what he’s done to her and how she could have been so stupid as to let it happen.

She feels it now, too. She feels the way his hands touched her that night, the way his lips kissed her that night, the way his hips rutted against hers and she feels so fucking filthy—used and used and used just for his own personal gain.

“Stop the car.”

It’s a weak demand, but Harry is pained to hear it. He has to hold himself back from comforting her and saying how terribly sorry he is for lying to her the way he is. But it’s just easier this way.

“I said stop the fucking car, Harry!”

Her yelling makes him flinch, and without hesitation makes him pull over to the side of the road. And the second he does so, he knows he shouldn’t have because he’d never be able to live with himself if he let Y/n walk in the cold alone, especially at night.

And right as he’s about to turn back, the sound of her hysteria makes his stop everything he’s doing. Her sobs are relentless in her hands and the thickest of tears fall from Harry’s eyes when he looks at the damage he’s done.

She looks helpless and utterly destroyed—he would have never thought of doing this to her if he’d known this is what would come out of it.

His heart is breaking at the sight of her like this.

As if on instinct, Harry reaches his hand over to her shoulder in an attempt to keep her calm. And even when they’re so close, they have never felt more emotionally distant than they do right now.

“No! Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me again!”

She isn’t sure if she means it or not, but the devastating look Harry gives her at her words proves that he knows she did.

The second his touch leaves hers, he feels them falling apart.

It really is over now.

She’s never felt more pathetic and humiliated in her life. Everything she thought was so real ended up being one of the biggest lies she’s ever lived. He had her fooled for months now and she had not a single clue—but she guesses that’s what happens when she falls in love too quickly.

She feels easy.

She swallows her cries as she opens the car door, not knowing where the hell she is or where the hell she’s going, but knowing that no matter where she ends up, it’ll be much better than being with him. 

“I hate you. I never want to see you again, not after this. Not after all that you’ve done to me.”

Harry’s eyes widen at her words, mouth falling open and a gasp falling from his lips. The reality of her words hits him with so much force that he genuinely feels every last bit of him fall apart.

And it’s when she walks away from him—from his life—that he breaks.

He chokes out a sob as his fingers grip the steering wheel, eyes as wide as ever and mouth not daring to shut.

Everything hurts. Every bone in his body feels like it’s breaking and every muscle feels like they’re tearing apart. It hurts so fucking much and Harry can’t stop crying, throwing his head back against the car seat as his hand hits the steering wheel in the midst of his hysteria.

She hates him.

But it’s better this way.

I’ve been reflecting on my years in special ed and I remember as a kid the first thing I noticed was that the teachers seemed a little too happy. They were unusually bright and cheery all the time. Later I realized that this is how they think you’re supposed to talk to ND kids. I remember one time in class a teacher explained something and then-in front of the WHOLE class- she singled me out and asked “did you get that, (my name)?” I tried to play it cool and said something like “uh, yeah, you just said that” to which she responded in an obnoxiously cheery tone “good! That means you’re listening!” I felt mortified and patronized beyond description.

Looking back, I realize that the best teachers who I never felt patronized by where the ones who had learning disabilities themselves. This one teacher with ADHD was one of my favorite teachers and he was so awesome and I’d always look forward to class with him. He’s talk about his own issues with organization and stuff and I really get like he understood us students.

I don’t mean to make a generalization but I really feel like most NT special ed teachers are doing their jobs for the wrong reasons. I get the impression that they see special ed as a charity project for them so they can feel like a good person or be like one of those special ed teachers in those inspiration porn articles (“heartwarming! this special ed teacher smiled at his students!”). ND special ed teachers have a much better connection with their students in my experience because although every learning disability is different, they understand the basic experience the student is going through and they don’t feel the need to put in this stilted bright-and-cheery persona.

3

John Wick (2017)

*whispers* imagine having a “talk” with John while he trails alongside you.

let’s hurt tonight

hello, this was loosely based on a request that i will put below, that scene is in here but it’s definitely not the main focus of the one shot, hope you like it!!

anonymous: hiii i was wondering if you could do something where harry is eating you out but your work calls and you have to answer while he keeps going down on you???

Heels in one hand, purse and phone in the other, you skipped down the stairs to where Harry was waiting, hands in his pockets.


He turned at the sound of your bare feet padding on the hardwood and a grin stretched across his face when his eyes landed on you. You still weren’t used to that look; his eyes flaming with desire as they made their way across your body. You would never admit aloud what that look did to you, but you were sure Harry knew anyway.


His eyes slowly made their way back up to yours, but darted traitorously to your mouth, “I like your lipstick.” Was all he said as he admired the redness of your mouth as it stretched into it’s own grin.

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Thigh Kissing

Summary: Phil loves everything about Dan, but he loves kissing his thighs more than anything in the world.
Word Count: 1,144
Warnings: None
A/N: Y'all asked for thigh kissing, so I granted your wishes. If you would like to support me and my writing and get perks such as getting my fics a day early, head over to my patreon!

Read it on AO3!

-

Phil loved everything about Dan.

He loved the way he smiled, those dimples caving in on his cheeks, his entire face brightening up as though he was the happiest man alive. Phil had no doubt that, for a while, he was the happiest man alive. He was always grinning whenever Phil was around and then he would look at him with those gorgeous chocolate eyes, ones so soft and filled with fondness that it took Phil’s breath away.

He loved the way Dan had started to wear his hair curly, showing a confidence that didn’t used to be there. But it was there now, shining in a way that made him look like an entirely different person. He held himself taller, spoke loudly, and his hair was wild and so soft that Phil loved to run his hands through it.

“Phil, you’re messing up my hair,” Dan would complain when he did this, but he wouldn’t push Phil away and just let him twirl a curl around his fingers.

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White sheets & purple kisses

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2,032
Warnings: Smut - NSFW – Sexual themes, inappropriate language, nudity, handjob, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex - please guys if you’re going to be intimate with someone, please use protection. Also if you’re underage, please don’t read this.
Author’s Note: Hi guys, I don’t even know what to say about this. I think this is the most smuty thing I’ve ever wrote ahah so all I can say is I hope you enjoy it. This is also for @marvelous-fvcks writing challenge. I hope you like it! I did my best. And please guys, tell me what you think of it. I’m so nervous for some reason ahaha.
Prompt Word: Hickey


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lordmushroomkat  asked:

Writing request. Klance. Mutual pining. Supportive mechanical telepathic cat-parents.

man i feel like I could easily write 15 000 words about this haha. Trying to make this idea small is hard, but let’s give it a go. 

“So what do we do? We’re a paladin down now.” Pidge states. It’s a topic they’ve been dancing around. Shiro is gone, and yes of course they will find him again, but until then they can’t just… not form Voltron. 

“Keith takes black. Yeah ok, so that’s resolved.” Pidge continues.

“Are we honestly…” Lance starts to interrupt.

“But there’s STILL five lions.” Pidge shoots Lance a look. She knows he wants to argue the leader Keith point, but that’s another discussion. 

“We need another paladin.” She concludes. The group all stare at each other, not sure of what to suggest. The air is stale. 

“I….” Allura starts. Coran grabs her arm protectively. She turns to him with an understanding smile, pats his hand, and steps out of his grip.

“I will fill in.” Her commanding voice rings in the Lion’s hangar. Hunk nervously wrings his hands. Keith looks skeptical. 

“Princess, we need you to…”

“Who else do we have?!” Allura implores. “No one knows the lions like I do. I’m already a part of this team, so it’ll be easier for me to bond than some outsider!”  

The others all share a look. It had to be Allura. Of course it did. But it was a shame that it had to come to this. 

“Who will you pilot?” Hunk moves the discussion forward. Allura smiles and taps her chin thoughtfully. Her eyes move around to look at all the lions. She sighs at a fond memory. 

“My father was the red paladin, and if Keith is piloting black then…” Allura steps towards the red lion. She smiles and places her hand on its barrier. It vibrates under her touch, but does not break.

“It just seems logical.” There’s fondness in her blue eyes. She leans forward and places both palms on the barrier.

“Of course there is the issue of the red lion being the most temperamental so…” Allura laughs. The barrier doesn’t budge under her. Still keeping her out. Keith shakes his head. 

“She doesn’t like it when you call her that.” He sings.

Allura winces. She pats the barrier gently. 

“Ah, sorry girl. I didn’t mean it.” She coos. “I understand how important your paladin is. I know how much you need to trust them. I don’t want to push, but please… please I need you to…” Allura pauses. Her mouth goes taut. She stares at the giant beast in front of her trying to sense it. She leans against the barrier with a frustrated sigh. 

“How did you do this, Keith? I can tell this isn’t working at all.”

“I blasted myself out of an airlock if you must know.”

“Guys, guys,” Lance holds up his hands. “You’re going about this all wrong. For blue and I…. it was like love at first sight!” Lance saunters over to where Allura stands. 

“Your lion is your lady, and she has to know that you are going to love and respect her. You can’t grovel, you gotta woo her.” Lance stands next to Allura. 

“Mind if I show you?” He grins. Allura rolls her eyes.

“Oh yes please. Demonstrate for all of us.” 

Lance rises to the bait. He clears his throat. 

“Hello Red, you look radiant as always. Would it be ok if I spent the evening with you?” He raises his hand to knock on the barrier. 

He immediately falls through. With a vibration and a crackle, he stumbles into the red lions perimeter. He catches himself before he eats cement. He turns to beam at everyone. They look on with disbelief. Particularly Keith.

“See!” Lance exclaims happily. His voice sounds distant and crackly inside the barrier. “Just like that!” He turns to shoot finger guns at the red lion. “Thanks red, you’re beautiful. i love you. Ok Allura, if you just want to…”

Lance bumps against the barrier.

He stares at it in confusion. He tries to step forward and bumps against it once more.

‘What…?” He whispers. 

“Oh no…” Allura stares. Pidge’s eyes widen. Keith starts to look manic. 

Allura, Hunk and Pidge all touch the barrier. None of them can get in.

And Lance can’t get out.

Lance starts to push harder against the barrier. 

“Guys, I can’t…. how do I…?”

“Lance, Lance…” Allura shakes her head. She holds his gaze through the barrier. 

“She’s chosen you.”

Lance’s chest goes cold. He turns over his shoulder to look at the monstrous lion. The red glow around him is bright and hurts his eyes. Nothing like the soothing aura of Blue.

“What?! No! No! Nononono! Blue’s my lion! I’m not giving her up!” Lance beats on the barrier. it flickers underneath his fists. 

“Let me out! Keith! Come talk to your lion! Get me out of here! Tell her I can’t do this! I WON’T do this!”

“Lance, it’s ok. I’m coming I’ll…” Keith smacks into the barrier. So confident that it would peel away for him, that he hadn’t even tried to slow down. He rubs his knee that collided and hisses. He raises his hand to the barrier and pushes. It firmly pushes back. 

“Lance…” He breathily whispers. Lance places his palm opposite Keith’s, so they look like they are touching, but the barrier crackles firmly between them.

“I can’t get in.” His breath shakes with emotion. “She wants you. She’s chosen you.”

Lance blinks away tears. 

“B…but Blue. Blue’s mine. No one can….”

Soft footfalls echo across the hangar. Allura has taken off and runs towards where Blue stands. At a full sprint, she charges forwards and Blue’s barrier easily dissolves around her.

“Alright!” Alurra gives a victorious cheer. Blue lurches forward, opening its mouth ready for Allura to board. 

Lance’s heart breaks. He falls forward. Keith worries his lip and presses himself as close to Lance as he can. Hunk and Pidge wisely walk away. 

“Lance. Lance, I’m so sorry.” Keith whispers. His voice rattles in the comms of Lance’s helmet. 

“But out of everyone here…Red has chosen you. She needs you. Can’t you feel her?”

“But she’s yours, Keith. She’s yours and you’re hers.” Lance’s voice trembles. He looks up into Keith’s face. 

“I know. And she’ll always be mine so….” Keith swallows. “I’ll need you to take really good care of her. She’s trusting you, Lance. I’m trusting you.” Keith looks up with glassy eyes. Blue may have let Allura in, but here Red was actively locking her own paladin out. A surge of sympathy courses through Lance.

“Keith, I’ll…”

Metallic whirring causes lance to turn. Red has bowed down and opened her mouth wide, inviting Lance in.

“You have to go.” Keith states and turns to leave. Lance goes to grab him, but his hand smacks painfully against the barrier.

“Keith wait!” He calls. Keith pauses. His eyebrows knit together and he waits. Lance steps back from the barrier with a frustrated sigh. 

“If I…If I could hug you I would.” He announces. Keith’s eyes widen. 

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