afternoon-ride

I was on the phone during a bus ride this afternoon and the person told me something pretty outrageous and I somehow combined both the expressions “Piss off” and “Are you shitting me”.

Long story short I ended up yelling “ARE YOU PISSING ON ME?” on public transportation.

ME THINKING ABOUT MY OTP:

morning: sleepy smiles, sleepy kisses, legs tangled in sheets, CUDDLES, breakfast in bed, coffee, pancakes, morning cartoons PROBABLY

afternoon: attempting to bake cupcakes and failing, going out to the cafe instead, watching tv shows while tangled on the couch, napping

evening: pizza and beer, doing their own stuff for a while and then getting bored, probably watching random shows on tv again, scrolling on their phones before they go to bed, MORE CUDDLES

ALSO ME THINKING ABOUT MY OTP:

morning: morning sex, morning breath but it’s OKAY, sleepy makeout session, lazy grinding, a blowjob probably 

afternoon: person a riding person b on the couch, the good stuff

evening: person a prepares a special dinner, lap dances, a tie and lingerie are involved, after-sex cuddles

In the Rough

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 (you are here), part 5, part 6, based on @skygemspeaks‘s prompt



Previously: Yuuri has survived his first day of being bodyguard to Crown Prince Victor, though not without drawing the suspicion of Prince Yuri and Otabek, the captain of the guard. Victor has proven to be quite the handful as a charge, and Yuuri is beginning to see what Otabek meant when he described the job as a “glorified babysitter.”

It takes Yuuri several months to get used to the new life he’s living, which is, in retrospect, a good thing. It isn’t permanent; can’t be, no matter how much he enjoys it. And he does enjoy it immensely, even if he’s really just doing the same thing that he would have been doing back home.

He spars with Victor during fencing practice, just like he sparred with his own bodyguard Minami. He helps tutor Victor in the ways of the other countries of the area, like he helped Mari. He goes on afternoon rides with Victor, the way he used to do at home, alone.

It’s different in some ways, he admits. They teach each other their native languages, so that they can communicate with more than just the common languages. Yuuri has grown used to (perhaps too used to) the feeling of having someone latch onto him like an overheating barnacle at night. He learns that the palace dog, Makkachin, has a particular fondness for things that he shouldn’t have, a lot like Yuuri’s Vicchan.

He learns that Victor is relatively useless in emergencies, like when Yuuri’s thoughts get to be too much for him. He tries, after that first disaster, to keep his episodes away from Victor, since it seems to cause him distress to see Yuuri like that.

He learns that though he shows it in roundabout ways, Prince Yuri has more respect for his brother than he does for anyone, even their father. He learns that for all that Victor acts like a bumbling idiot, he’s actually smart– so smart, in fact, that it terrifies Yuuri sometimes. He can also be serious and sometimes cruel when something needs to be accomplished and isn’t (though luckily that side of him doesn’t come out often). He’s highly tactile, and shows decorum only when it’s strictly necessary.

Yuuri also learns, on one particularly average day, that he’s possibly a little bit entirely in love with Victor. And that poses a problem for him, since he has always had trouble concealing his emotions. Luckily, it seems that in this case, Victor’s denseness isn’t faked; he truly has no idea.

All in all, Yuuri is happy here. For a while, he even forgets that he’s a prince; it’s still there, hovering just at the edge of his mind at all times, but he’s often too busy to dwell on it.

Fast forward three months, and Yuuri is rolling out of bed early for once. As he recalls, there isn’t much going on today. There’s a meeting with a foreign dignitary later this morning (he wasn’t told the name; he never is, and it never matters much. He just stands there, making sure that nothing suspicious is happening and hoping that it isn’t someone that would recognize him) and a few logistical things that need to be dealt with for the ball celebrating Price Yuri’s birthday. Unless he missed something in his briefing last night, it’s going to be a relatively easy day.

He gets dressed before waking up Victor. “Your Highness. Victor, come on. It’s time for breakfast and you know how your brother is going to be if he has to wait for you.”

Victor’s eyes are closed, but he smiles and pulls Yuuri down. “He’s always like that.”

Yuuri flails a bit, trying to keep his belt buckle, knife, and sword sheath from scratching Victor. It doesn’t leave him a lot of time to stop his fall, so he lands right where Victor wants him. “Victor! You could hurt yourself doing that!”

“I can’t hear you, I’m sleeping.” Victor gives an exaggerated snore and Yuuri laughs.

“No you’re not,” he says, still chuckling.

Victor laughs with him, opening his eyes. “What gave me away?”

“You don’t snore.”

“I knew it!” Victor’s voice is suddenly very loud. When Yuuri winces, he looks apologetic. “Yura always said I snored, but I knew better.”

That doesn’t surprise Yuuri in the slightest. After all, Prince Yuri has always seemed to enjoy giving his older brother grief. Yuuri gets out of bed for a second time, tugging Victor along with him. “Come on, get dressed properly. You have a meeting after breakfast.”

“You’re such a mother hen,” Victor laughs.

“It’s my job,” Yuuri says, straightening his own collar before turning toward the wardrobe to get out clothes for Victor.

Breakfast goes about as well as can be expected. That is to say, it goes as well as it ever does, with Prince Yuri making a fuss, Victor being himself, Mila and Georgi being obnoxious, and the Tzar looking to Yuuri to try to keep some sense of sanity. Yuuri, as usual, can do nothing but look back at him helplessly.

“Yuuri, let’s go have a bath,” Victor says after fencing lessons.

Before answering, Yuuri takes a quick glance out of the east window; the sun has risen past where he can see, so it must be close to noon. “You have a guest that should be arriving any time now, so I’d advise against it.”

“Exactly! I’m quite sweaty and I hardly smell very good either. Is this how you’d have me greet a royal visitor?” Victor clutches his chest dramatically, falling into Yuuri’s arms.

Yuuri, as is his instinct at this point, catches him. He really is lovely, he can’t help but think before blinking and shaking his head to recenter himself in reality. “Oh alright. But I won’t be joining you.”

Victor’s eyes widen and his bottom lip quivers in a pout that Yuuri should not find so adorable. “You’re going to leave me with Otabek?”

“Well, someone has to be around to greet the visitor, if you aren’t,” Yuuri says, grinning at the way the logic seems to hit Victor like a hammer.

He sends an errand boy to get Otabek, who arrives minutes later. He’d been right, that first day; Yuuri doesn’t call on him for help often, but there are times when he truly can’t be in two places at once. He and Victor are gone soon after, heading for the baths (though Otabek will surely stand outside the door) while Yuuri stays behind and waits for the arrival of the person who has been granted a royal audience with Prince Victor.

Mila runs up to him not thirty minutes later, panting that there’s a carriage at the gate. Yuuri makes his way to the throne room, apologies for Victor’s absence already memorized and ready to be spoken (hopefully without completely fumbling it, but that will be an issue all its own).

Those apologies die on his tongue the moment that the visiting royal is announced.

“Presenting His Royal Highness, Crown Prince of the Southeast, Phichit Chulalont!”

thelynchbros  asked:

(conversations that happen when nikandros and laurent wrestle) LAURENT: careful i'm a bit sore because... NIKANDROS: *looks into the camera like the office* LAURENT: excuse me, i find it very inappropriate that you would make an assumption that i was talking about my sex life. i'll have you know that i spent the afternoon riding. NIKANDROS: *flushing because he got King Shamed* yes, sorry Exalted.

(part 2) later damen shows up and fails to be subtle while making references to his own sex life with laurent (as he does) NIKANDROS: i thought you said you spent all day riding yesterday! LAURENT: *clinging to damen and smirking bc he’s a shithead* yeah riding his DICK. NIKANDROS: *nopes out of akielos*

LMAOOOOO, honestly can we get a little snippet of them wrestling, i can’t believe we didn’t get to see laurent’s reaction to damen gifting him a horse and also see him wrestling nik @ pacat pls. 

Also now that i’m pretty sure that a very smug damen watches over their sessions i bet every time laurent verbally owns nikandros, (with laurent pretty much beneath him in a chokehold but u know at least he got the last word in so is he really losing?) you can hear damen’s fucking laugh in the background like OMFG!! u just got owned bro,,,,, and then as nik’s chokehold gets a bit tighter…. Damen: hey HEY!!! that’s my husband right there, he’s sensitive :( :(. Anyway LET NIKANDROS REST 2K17

Still Breathing - Jack Maynard Imagine

Summary: an early morning moment with Jack leads to him seeing a side of you that you don’t usually let people see

Word Count: 1226

Warnings: Mentions of Death/Loss/Grief, may be triggering to those who have lost someone in a vehicular accident.

Author’s Note: This story is extremely close to me. As some of you know, i’ve been struggling to write lately, and this story popped into my head. Y/N in this story is very much based on and inspired by me personally and my life events. I don’t know how many of you will relate to this one but it’s incredibly important to me. Grief is not something that fades or goes away and it is more personal to me than anything else i’ve shared on here. If any of you are going through anything and just need a chat, then i’m here always, you can always drop a message in my ask and I will always reply to the best of my abilities. 

Originally posted by killtheinsidegifs

Reaching a hand across the mattress and expecting for it to land on the always warm and comforting body of his girlfriend, Jack was surprised to feel only cool and uninviting sheets underneath his fingertips.

Cracking his eyes open blearily, he noticed that his bed was very much empty and very much lacking a warm you to cuddle up behind. Peering over his shoulder, he groaned huskily when he noticed that it was only just past two thirty in the morning.

Regardless of this though, he knew that you typically didn’t get up in the night, and as such, pushed himself up and out of bed, the cool breeze coming through the open window making him shiver slightly as he padded out of the room and into the plush carpeted hallway. He noticed the stream of warm light coming from his office and immediately made his way over to the doorway.

Standing in the door way, his eyes fell on you immediately, your body crouched over a box of something that was on the floor while clad in only his old ratty shirt and a pair of mismatched socks.

“Baby?” his scratchy hoarse voice broke into your personal bubble, making your head snap up immediately, your hands quickly moving to clear your eyes of any remaining tears. “It’s like three in the morning, what are you doing awake?” he yawned, moving closer to you as you tried to right yourself and make it seem like you hadn’t just been crying your eyes out.

Jack felt his heart drop down into his stomach when his eyes landed on the box in front of you, leaning against the wall beside you, he slid his back down it until he hit the floor, his body adjacent to your own. His eyes flitted over your carefully composed form; he knew how you could get when you were in this state and even more so, he knew that you kept everything inside (no matter how often he would tell you that it was okay to be upset and to let him in) and you usually never let him get close enough to see any of this so he didn’t want to spook you at all.

“I had a dream,” you spoke quietly into the early morning air, “About him, about the accident, I saw it all,” you told him, your voice cracking at the end. It had been nearly ten years since your father had been killed in a freak accident on an afternoon motorbike ride, yet still it stayed with you. Still it haunted you, the words that you’d read on the coroners report ingrained into your memory. How he had died on impact, how in his last moments he had angled the bike just so that he would take the brunt of the force instead of your mother.

You bit down on your lip so hard that you were surprised you didn’t break through the skin; you had spent the past ten years never crying in front of anyone, never letting anyone in far enough to see just how broken this singular event had made you. Even Jack, the love of your life and the reason you weren’t an empty shell of a human being, was kept at arms length so as to minimize the impact.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jack asked you softly, reaching out and placing his hand on your arm gently. Everything about him was gentle in that moment, his tone and his actions, all coming from your boyfriend who had a tendency to be obnoxious and crass and loud in the best of times. It was the softness of his touch that broke you though, your carefully constructed facade crashing down like a house of cards in a blizzard.

The sobs racked your body as your body slumped forward, your entire frame shaking from the force of your cries. Jack couldn’t just sit there though, couldn’t just sit there with one hand on your arm while you sobbed for the father you had lost. Wrapping one arm around your waist and the other around your legs, he hauled you into his lap, both arms wrapped around you tightly as you cried into his neck.

“Why did he leave me here? Why did he have to go?” you wailed into his neck, your cries filling the entire room as you shook against him. “He told me he was always going to be there, that he’d make sure nobody ever hurt me but he left! He left me here all alone and now I’m the one who has to protect everyone but I can’t anymore Jack, I’m not him!” You cried, burying your face into his chest.

It was breaking Jack’s heart to see you like this and be unable to do anything for you, but he was so thankful that he had woken up and was able to be here for you now. He ran his fingers through your hair gently with one hand as the other focused on rubbing soothing circles into the skin of your bare thigh that was slung over his lap.

Gradually your heart wrenching sobs began to quite into small cries and whimpers, before eventually, and without either one of you really noticing, your cries stopped altogether and your breathing was evened out. Neither one of you moved though, your head remaining tucked into the crook of his neck as his hand rubbed circles into your skin softly.

“You don’t have to put all this pressure on yourself,” he told you softly, “You don’t have to protect everyone and be him, you can just be you,” he continued, “I know how hard it is for you to actually let people in and let someone else share your pain but you can’t keep doing this to yourself, baby.”

Sniffling slightly, you nodded silently against his neck, “Thank you,” you whispered to him, your fingertips tracing the outline of the tattoo on his ribs ever so lightly. “Thank you for letting me cry and not complaining about the fact that your neck is now sticky with my tears,” you giggled softly, peering up at him with red rimmed eyes and smiling thankfully. “You’re too good to me, Jack Maynard,” you smiled, stretching up and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Why don’t you show me what you were looking at before I came in?” He offers, a smile lighting up his face when you pick up the box that you were hunched over before. He sees that it’s a box full of photographs, all ones of you and your family. He recalls that you once told him that finding photos with your dad in there is a nightmare because he was always the one taking the photos.

Picking up one photo, you show him a tiny seven year old you perched on your dad’s shoulders, theres a bandaid on your head and a wide toothy grin on your face. “This was when I crashed the dodgem cars at the amusement park and nearly flew over the top of the steering wheel,” you tell him, laughing softly as you recount the day to him, some of the brightness that he loves so much returning to your face.

And if you two sat there until the sun came up a few hours later, still pouring over the photos in that box, well then that was okay too.

Birthday Memories

Pairing: Sam x Reader 

Characters: Sam, the reader, Dean 

Warnings: light swearing, a ton of fluff 

Word count: 2222

Summary: The reader decides to do something special for Sam’s birthday and take him down memory lane with a hand made gift. 

A/N: Happy birthday Sam Winchester!! I don’t really post anything other than fics, so I thought I would write this one for our favorite’s big day:) 

Tag list: @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove@evyiione @mogaruke@aliensdeservebetter@27bmm@craving-cas @cleverdame @spnfanficpond @samwinchesterfluffandsmut @hamartiamacguffin​ @katymacsupernatural 

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House Aesthetics
  • Tag which house you are in the tags!
  • Hufflepuff: rosemary, having someone play with your hair, smiling at babies, fields full of sunflowers, chamomile tea, landscape paintings, film cameras, scrapbooks, tea lights, vinyl records, writing letters, big sweaters, lazy Sunday mornings, playing tag, bubble baths, summer, wandering through cobblestone streets, goodnight kisses, going for an afternoon bike ride, scraped knees, horseback riding, running to hug someone after not seeing them for a long while, freckles, climbing trees, disney movie marathons
  • Ravenclaw: stargazing, the smell of earth after it rains, misty mornings by the sea, earl grey tea, lavender, the smell of old books, charcoal drawings, braids, long conversations late at night, quiet afternoons spent listening to music, baking, owls, winter, open windows, getting so absorbed in a book you forget the world exists, snow globes, watching milk swirl into coffee, getting up early to watch the sunrise, the sound of rain on a rooftop as you try to fall asleep, keeping a journal
  • Slytherin: evergreen forests, sage, big dogs, spring, the stories behind scars, archery, fairy lights, staring at the moon, secrets kept between best friends, horoscopes, going on adventures, mountains, rainy mornings, love at first sight, rivers, fog, holding someone while they cry, piano, long train rides, pencil drawings, silver, castles, blushing when you make eye contact with someone you like, lace, sleeping in, pine scented candles, climbing into bed after a long day, writing stories, the start of friendships
  • Gryffindor: crackling fireplaces, brownies, singing with friends, big scarves, nutmeg, hot chocolate, museums, sculpting, playing guitar, autumn, birthmarks, brown eyes, love notes, polaroids, lockets, roasting marshmallows, vanilla tea, tight hugs, small cabins deep in the woods, homemade gifts, poetry, cuddling, big blankets, getting lost in your thoughts, home being people rather than places, the first day back at school, reminiscing, putting photographs up on a wall, pinky promises

mad-li  asked:

#28 for those prompts you reblogged? mileven please (st blog is hawwkins) love your blog and your writing! it's some of the best... getting me through to season two one small fic at a time. i thank you.

40 Prompts List #28: “Keep your eyes on me”
Thank you for the request! And for being so incredibly lovely! I really appreciate your kind words and hope you’ll enjoy this. Sorry it took so long! 💕 💕 

“And that’s Orion,” Mike said in a soft whisper, pointing to the southwest, “And that big, bright star is Rigel—it’s a blue-white supergiant.”

“Orion?” El echoed, her eyes following Mike’s fingers across the inky blue sky as they traced the constellation for her. She knew comparatively little about space, but the vastness of the universe fascinated her and Mike was a good teacher; El enjoyed listening to him talk, especially when he got excited about the things he was telling her.

“Yeah,” Mike paused in his drawing and turned his head so that he was looking at her, sprawled out on the plaid blanket next to him, wrapped in his favourite sweater, curls cascading out behind her head. “He’s a hunter. From Greek mythology—remember Lucas was telling you about Artemis and Athena last week?—and he could walk on water.”

“Cool,” El smiled and nodded, fondly remembering the stories of powerful goddesses Lucas had shared with her while they had been stargazing six days earlier. She had liked those stories. Tonight, however, it was just her and Mike—Lucas had gone home after dinner and El was staying with the Wheelers while Hopper worked late. She didn’t mind, of course. Any time at the Wheeler’s house meant more time with Mike.

El’s eyes flickered towards Mike, meeting his gaze briefly. Even in the darkness, she could see Mike blushing, his pale skin turning crimson under the freckles she sometimes counted like Mike counted stars. Wordlessly, El shifted closer to him and snuggled into the crook under his arm, Mike adjusting so that he could comfortably hold her. Resting her head on his chest, El sighed contentedly at the familiar smell of fabric softener and bubblegum that was Mike Wheeler.

“I’m tired,” she whispered into his shirt and she felt him grin against the top of her head.

“We can go inside,” Mike offered, “You can take a nap in Nancy’s bed.” He felt El shake her head.

“I’ll rest here,” she mumbled, her voice already thick with sleep. They had spent the afternoon riding with the rest of the gang, riding bikes and playing tag. “Story?”

“Sure thing,” Mike grinned. In a soft voice, Mike continued the story he had been telling El the previous night over the phone, picking up where he had stopped when he heard her breathing soften—a sure sign that she had fallen asleep. He didn’t get much further, prattling on for less than ten minutes before El was asleep against him. 

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boneyard

Pansy Parkinson was the type of girl to end her love letters in x’s and o’s.

Except her x’s were bones and her o’s were skulls and her love letters were always more like death threats taped to her lover’s locker.

She wore black lipstick and choker necklaces and was the kind of crafty, never-present student all the teachers despised, yet she managed to be top of the class ever single fucking time and it drove everyone mad.

She smelled of peppermint and looked like Persephone’s softest daydream. Her kisses were sweet and her punches were like cotton candy.

Pansy was possessive. Like the moon in the sky, desiring every eye to fall upon her precious being.

And when she wanted something, she would stop at nothing to ensure she was queen of it. All the boys were afraid of her and all the girls idolized her.

With her perfectly manicured midnight-colored nails and her ironed pleated mini skirt, she practically owned the school.

Yeah.

That is, until she works her way through an entire bag of exceptionally well-charmed licorice meant to bring tangibility back to the dead.

In her state, though—her very alive state—she transforms into a ghost.

 A fucking ghost.

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An Afternoon Ride

Requested by @princess-of-erebor1992…you know exactly who I’m asking a request for. Just fluff. Lots…of fluff. You pick the plot. I don’t care. Just…FLUFF.

Here you are, my dear!! I do not own Kili, Fili or Thorin. They belong to J.R.R.Tolkien.

Warnings: Fluffy fluff! Everybody lives AU

Pairings: Kili x reader, Fili, Thorin Oakenshield

Originally posted by iamjaynaemarie

You loved Kili more than anything. You loved spending time with him. You loved his ridiculous jokes and the pranks he and his brother pulled. You loved his smile and how the corners of his dark eyes crinkled when he was amused. You loved how protective he was of people he cared about. All these things you loved about Kili and yet, you never could tell him. Every time you’d get an opportunity to tell him how you felt, you’d clam up.

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anonymous asked:

18, i feel that should be interesting

A/N: oH. yEs I N D E E D. oh, i may not put the entirety of the sentence requested because i’m viewing it as being a prompt rather than actual dialogue cause i suck at that. anywho on with the angst show.


Looking up at the bright large lettering on the sign above, you feel a combination of melancholy and nostalgia wash over you as forgotten memories flood your mind. You’re completely lost in your thoughts until his you hear his voice, “… doesn’t it?”

“Huh?” You were caught off guard by his question.

The corners of his mouth raise before he repeats himself, “Brings back memories, doesn't it?”

You smile with him, nodding, “Yeah… How many years has it been? 4?”

“3 years and 8 months,” he says seriously and you look up at him, feeling that long forgotten uneasiness in your stomach as his seemingly soulless eyes bore into yours. 

You awkwardly clear your throat, as does he. “Well,” you say, looking forward. “Shall we relive old memories?”

He’s smiling again, looking at you with that familiar adoration that once made your knees weak. “Race ya to the railway,” he says too quickly for you to fully comprehend before taking off. You follow his long strides soon after calling out to him for not giving you a head-start.

The two of you spend the entire afternoon riding all the familiar rides together, wasting money at the booths, and stuffing yourselves with sweets you could once tolerate so much of before. The day goes by quickly, but neither of you complain as you had spent the day having fun. You find yourself sitting across from him in a Ferris wheel booth hundreds of kilometers off the ground, clutching a stuffed penguin he was determined to win at one of the rigged booths earlier that day.

You look out at the scenery, the sun is setting behind pink tinted clouds and the trees below you blow slowly as the summer breeze passes through them. You realize then that the two of you haven’t said a word to each other the entire time you were in the booth.

On cue, he clears his throat and you turn your head to look at him. He looks content which brings a relieved smile to your face. “I’m still kind of bummed it cost me 4 dollars for this penguin,” you tease.

“Hey,” he says in feigned defense, “Those games are rigged. I know from personal experience.” 

The two of you share a laugh together but that ever present feeling you’ve been ignoring so hard all day comes back but much more intense. 

He clears his throat again, “I had fun today.”

“Me too,” you agree truthfully.

The silence between you feels like an eternity, your head is faced towards the windows of the booth again, eyes concentrating hard on the scenery presented.

“I missed you,” he admits quietly.

You close your eyes and your shoulders fall, “…Stuart.”

“I… never stopped, you know… I never stopped loving you.”

“Stuart, please.”

“I do hope you’re happy though,” he says quietly and you don’t meet his eyes knowing he’s not looking at you anyway.

Your eyes join his as you stare at the golden band on your ring finger and unknowingly, the same thoughts run through both of your minds.


terrible and predictable plot twist but i love angst

4

April 15th - A better day, but with a keen wind and I headed out for a ride late afternoon. Passing along the canal in Brownhills, the local feline population didn’t disappoint: At Catshill just on Clayhanger Common, eyebrow cat cast a surly, but authoritative figure as it disdainfully regarded me, and on a canalside deck but the Watermead, an old puss had fallen asleep, seemingly unaware his tongue was still out.

I’m loving the cats at the moment…

fatimaisnotemo  asked:

can you do marichat and 49? sil vout plait????

A lil aged-up pre-reveal Marichat #49, modified, from this drabble prompt list. Also for Marichat Week Day 1 (Secret Dating). Thanks to @watashiwaweebdesu​ for beta reading, and @marichatweek​ for hosting this.

Also on AO3. I have a craving for Marinette to be the one pining for Chat Noir, so…


Enough For Now


“Hey, Marinette, can we call this a date?”

She looks up from her needlework to where Chat Noir is reading her history book at her feet. Despite the potentially sensitive question, he looks awfully casual and relaxed. She purses her lips in consideration.

“What constitutes a date, exactly?”

“Hm…I’d say it’s two people who spend time together to see if they like each other.”

“Well, we are spending time together.”

“And I do like you.”

“And I like you.”

“Does this count as a date, then?”

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