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Kitten’s Got His Tongue | M | 01

Yoongi & Jimin | BTS | 5.5k Words | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07.

Yoongi orders Jimin and you from a hybrid companion service, but when he receives the two of you, he has no idea what to actually do with you.

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ok i don’t even know where this idea came from but i’ve now held it for long enough that it’s acquired official headcanon status so here we go

  • let’s talk about ronan driving up to visit adam in college for halloween, but adam had already been invited to this party by someone in his dorm, so they decide to go together and start throwing around increasingly ridiculous ~couple costume ideas 
  • at one point ronan suggests – mostly to be a little shit – that adam should go as poison ivy, because of his connection with cabeswater/sentient plants and his love of all things science
  • at first adam is skeptical but then he’s like “if i go along with this do i get to pick your costume” and ronan’s like “sure no problem” 
  • and he’s so damn smug already because this is a couple costume after all, so obviously if adam’s poison ivy, ronan gets to be the freaking batman, moodiest and coolest and most-black-wearing of superheroes, right??
  • wrong, because that’s when adam just gives him this honestly borderline evil smile and says harley quinn
  • and that’s the story of how – some makeup, two temporary hair dyes, and a lot of dreaming later – adam and ronan rock up to the halloween party as this badass gay villainess couple
  • ronan, being his gd extra self, has actually dreamt the purple lamborghini from the suicide squad movie because screw the joker this car is too good for that fuckboy, so everyone is already staring at them before they even properly walk in
  • adam is wrapped in what is basically a (rather revealing) plant catsuit (“bro, are those real vines???” “shut up todd you’re stoned” “no but chad i swear those leaves moved” “yeah ok you’re super high right now”), wearing green eyeliner, green lipstick and his coolest magician look
  • ronan is wearing honest-to-god hot pants (”listen parrish this is too much” “oh, right, like this vegetable suit you dreamt me covers my modesty so well??” “i don’t know what you’re talking about” “i’m sure. now put on the shorts, lynch”) with the obligatory tank top and letterman jacket, red and blue eyeshadow, smudged lipstick, and a fucking baseball bat 
  • (it’s maybe just possible that his bared midriff and the careless way the baseball bat is slung over his shoulders are doing things to adam)
  • (it’s also maybe just possible that when one of the vines from adam’s costume possessively wraps around his waist, that does things to ronan, too)
  • long story short, that is how adam and ronan win the costume contest while managing to make everyone at the party irrationally aroused 
  • but possibly one of the highlights of the night is when somehow a picture gets posted on the facebook page of the event and within five minutes ten increasingly agitated/enthusiastic comments appear
  • spoiler alert they’re all from gansey
Fuzzy Wuzzy

One of the most powerful lessons I learned from my time as a Certified Nursing Assistant was from an elderly woman who called me Fuzzy Wuzzy.

For the purposes of this story, we’ll call this woman “Edna.”

Edna called me Fuzzy Wuzzy because I had recently started shaving my head, and the first time I came to work without hair she put a hand on my head and said I reminded her of the poem, “Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear. Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair. Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t really fuzzy, was he?”

Edna was an easygoing and good natured person who had very poor vision and almost no mobility, but was very pleasant to care for most times of the day.

Except things were very difficult for about an hour every night, because that’s when Edna saw spiders.

The spiders that she saw every night covered her ceiling in a great black moving mass. This was caused partly by the confusion she experienced, and partly because her poor eyesight caused false shapes to appear and move in very dark lighting. It was terrifying for her.

She would scream and holler for someone to get rid of the spiders until one of the CNAs would go into her room and try to loudly convince her there were no spiders. Sometimes she would get so worked up that they would have to turn on the light in her room, which greatly bothered her roommate.

One night, I was working down a different hall in the health center, but I could hear Edna’s shouting from the other side of the facility. The CNA working her hall was occupied with helping another resident use the bathroom, so I went in to Edna’s room and claimed the call.

I knew there was no way I could talk loudly enough for Edna to hear me without waking up half the hall. Plus I didn’t like shouting at residents.

So instead, I took her hand, leaned in very close to her ear, and in the deepest, most reassuring voice I had I said, “Edna, do you know who this is?”

She recognized my voice and immediately stopped shouting. Then she brought a shaking hand down on my head and gave it a little rub.

I’ll never forget the sound of relief in her sigh as she took a deep breath and said, “Oh. Fuzzy Wuzzy.”

I told her she was safe and that things would be alright, and she believed me. I asked her if I could sit with her for a bit and she said yes. She closed here eyes and I held her hand until she fell asleep a few minutes later.

After that, we made a habit of me visiting her room each night I was on shift. I didn’t wait for the screaming to start because I got to know when it normally would. After a couple weeks, Edna no longer saw spiders at night. She never stopped calling me Fuzzy Wuzzy.

And more than a decade later, I’m still blown away by that experience. What an immensely powerful thing it is to be someone’s Fuzzy Wuzzy!

What a difference it makes to listen to someone, get to know them, joke with them, love them, show them respect and learn to laugh with them. And then, when they are going through a crisis, to be there. To say their name and let them hear your voice, to hold their hand, to let them feel your presence.

Even without the power to solve their problem, just to BE THERE. To remind them of brighter times and sunshine and jokes and promises of good days that can return again. To just assure them they’re not alone.

It doesn’t take a lot to be a Fuzzy Wuzzy, but OH, WHAT A DIFFERENCE IT CAN MAKE.

And I will always be grateful for the opportunity I had to learn that lesson from that special and sacred experience.

anonymous asked:

winteriron neighbours au bucky is 28 or 29 and tony is 24 or 25, where bucky and tony live next to each other and tony is scared of him. bucky is always grumpy, angry, glaring at everyone. tony thinks bucky is a serial killer. one day he just blurts it out and bucky is very offended. that's how they start talking. later when they start dating steve still can't get over the fact that tony had thought that bucky was an assassin. he still laughs at them because of that. happy ending.

Resting Bitch Face/Bucky will always be one of my top pairings lmao. (Man I had plans for this and then I threw in angst lol I’m a failure.) Look out for under the cut!

You can also find this on Ao3 here.


Tony was pretty sure his neighbor was a serial killer.

Like, he’d done the proper thing his mother had said to do, introduce himself to his new neighbors (he had a standing offer to have coffee with Bruce anytime), but when he’d knocked on the door of 4D, a man had answered looking ready to commit murder. There had been bags under his eyes and his eyes were red and his hair was a mess. He’d grunted out a terse ‘the fuck do you want’ and Tony had been able to do nothing but squeak. And then the door had been slammed shut in his face.

Which, you know, might have been a little rude; no one looked good first thing in the morning and Tony had clearly blind-sided him. But the guy hadn’t had to slam the door in his face. He had planned on just nicknaming him ‘Rudy McTrudy’ and moving on with his life.

Except sometimes Rudy McTrudy came home late at night clutching his left hand with a towel that was stained with blood.

Tony nicknamed him ‘Murder Guy’ instead.

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zarohk  asked:

So, I'm not totally sure the timelines match up, but do you think that Rachel's sisters (especially Sarah who is younger and more naive) could have watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer and decided that Rachel is the Slayer? Goes out at night, all hours, secret boyfriend who only visits her at night, can't tell their single mom, etc.

[First of all: the timelines do actually match up quite well.  In #20 there’s a brief mention of David’s dad (of all people) watching Buffy on TV, and although Animorphs started and ended first most of its run overlaps with Buffy.  Second, I LOVE this idea so much.  Rachel and Buffy are two of the people who were massively influential in teaching me and my friends that it was possible to be girly and tough at the same time.  Third… Voila.]

It starts as a way to distract her sisters, on the nights when their mom can’t make it home and their dad is too busy to call—Rachel will put on whichever Buffy episode she’s got saved in the DVR and all three of them will watch it together.  However, all three of them fall in love with the show over time, until they’re catching each episode live: Sarah laughs at all the puns and hums along with the theme song while Jordan waxes poetical about how dreamy Spike and Angel are.  

Rachel just loves Buffy herself, because there aren’t enough girls on TV that can look that fabulous and kick butt at the same time.  It becomes a weekly ritual, one that Rachel sometimes has to miss if Cassie or Jake calls with urgent news, but she’ll put aside anything short of the alien invasion to catch it with her sisters.

*****************

Jordan meets Rachel at the door, which is a bad sign because their mom and Sarah are both asleep and Rachel herself went to bed six hours ago.  The mission was long, nasty, and exhausting, the way they always are, and Rachel’s too keyed-up from the adrenaline rush to think of a proper excuse for why she’s sneaking in.  

She and Jordan stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, Rachel leaning on the door frame, Jordan holding a comic book in both hands as she sits on the end table in the foyer.  Jordan becomes the first one to speak.  “Sarah and I were talking,” she says.  “And I think we figured it out.”  

Rachel feels her stomach churn.  She’s not as careful with her sisters as her mom.  She never has been.  “Figured what out?”

“It’s okay.”  Jordan clutches her comic book a little more closely, expression solemn.  “We won’t tell Mom.”

Rachel crosses her arms.  “Won’t tell her what, exactly?”

Jordan thrusts the comic book at Rachel.  The cover shows a girl—Buffy Summers, judging by the title—holding a wooden stake in one hand and a sword in the other, her blond hair whirling around her as she thrusts the sword at a spike-covered greyish creature in the corner of the frame.  

Rachel takes a step back from the comic, not sure whether to laugh or to cry.  

“It explains everything.  Where you sneak out to almost every night.  Why you’ve got blood under your fingernails half the time when you get home.  Why you’ve got a secret boyfriend who only comes out at night—”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Rachel says reflexively.

Jordan nods, eyes wide.  “Uh-huh.  So you definitely weren’t seen by half the school at last week’s dance with a mysterious guy who has blond hair and is never seen around town.  You don’t have a boyfriend, even though I’ve heard people talking in your room in the middle of the night.  And you always leave your window open, even—especially—when it rains.  Almost like you’re waiting for a secret vampire boy—”

Rachel snorts a laugh.  “Tobias isn’t a vampire.”

Which has exactly the opposite effect than the one she intended.  “Oh my god,” Jordan whispers.  “Tobias as in that guy who disappeared last year? Everyone thought he died—” She gasps.  “Unless he did die.  And now he’s back!”

Much as Rachel wants to laugh and keep laughing until she falls over, she understands that this conversation actually has serious implications.  With effort she sobers herself.  “Look,” she says at last.  “There are things… Things I can’t tell you.  You wouldn’t be safe if I did.”  

She looks Jordan in the eye.  Jordan is taking this conversation seriously—probably more seriously than Rachel herself, for that matter.  “I understand,” Jordan says.  

“As soon as…”  As soon as the war’s over.  “As soon as it’s safe.  I’ll tell you everything.  Right now, there are things I can’t talk to you, or to Mom, about.  But someday I will.  I promise.”  Rachel can’t be more honest than that.  

“Okay.”  Jordan bites her lip.  “I just wanted you to know your secret’s safe with me.  And if you ever need help, like, hiding a body…”

Rachel smiles, overwhelmed with fondness.  “Thanks.”  She yawns.  “Now, if it’s all right with you, Dawn…”

Jordan makes a face.  

“I’m wiped, so I’m going to bed.”  She walks past Jordan and up the stairs to her room.  

“Rachel!”

She turns around.  Jordan is standing at the bottom of the stairs, hugging her comic book against her chest with both hands.  

“On the show,” she says haltingly.  “They say a lot about how slaying’s a dangerous job.  About how most slayers don’t live to be twenty.”  There’s real fear in her eyes, as she looks up at her sister.  

Rachel grins, tossing her hair over her shoulder.  “Really, Jordan, you should learn not to believe everything you see on TV.  After all, it’s just a show.  No vampire’s gonna take me down.”  

****************************

“You know, my sister thinks you’re William the Bloody.”

«Who’s that, a spokesman for Kotex?»

***************************

She doesn’t get much input on the actual headstone; she’s too young for that.  She does, however, manage to put in a special request for the plaque on the statue they erect outside of Washington D.C., a proud grizzly bear rearing up to defend the Capitol.  

Rachel Daniella Berenson, the plaque reads.  She saved the world.  A lot.  

“Tony killed Wanda’s parents”, my ass.  I can't believe that I am writing this post in 2017 but great, whatever...

Right, lately it has been a shot tons of posts of the Defense Squad hijacked with a very known, common sentences since the last three fucking years:

  • Tony killed Wanda’s parents.
  • Tony made the weapons that killed her parents so for that he deserves what she did to him.
  • Tony doesn’t have the right to attack Bucky if he didn’t let Wanda kill him because of her own revenge.
  • You can defend Tony’s reaction and condemn Wanda’s actions in Age of Ultron/CA:CW.

All of this is shit and I can’t believe that we are in fucking 2017 and y'all still don’t get it.

Tony didn’t fucking kill Wanda’s parents. He wasn’t responsible for their deaths. You know why? Because logic say so.

Let’s see this screenshot from Age Of Ultron. The Maximoff’s apartment was destroyed when a shell of a missile fell. A bomb, people, Tony wasn’t there.

Also, the common argument is that Wanda and Pietro were kids and didn’t know better but let’s see here:

Wanda and Pietro were part of protests against the Americans/The Corrupt Government/The Avengers/Wherever, the Marvel wikia and the tie-ins comics describe Sokovia as a war zone. If they’re had enough judgement to participle of those manifestations. That means that they fucking knew what fucking war is. So? Maybe? They could have rethought that the person responsible of making the fucking weapon? They have years to think “hey, maybe if our country is a war zone… maybe our parents were collateral damage.”

Zemo himself described Sokovia as doomed. Even if Tony hadn’t made the weapons, the people that fired them would have bought to another company.

So, let’s go with Tony and his parents.

The fact that you compare the Maximoffs, I tell this again, having fucking years to think that their parents were collateral damage, with Tony and the delivered and planned murder of his parents is laughable.

You’re gonna scream at me that Wanda and Pietro deal with their grieve in a different form? That’s not the point the point is, who was there? Who was in the death scene?

Let me show this again, the Maximoffs saw a bomb, a fucking non-thinking object and decided that the fucking name in it was the responsible for their parent’s dead.

Tony saw this:

And this:

Don’t believe me? Look at his expressions. This is not someone who had years to think “maybe they were collateral damage”. Is not Tony looking at an object, but a living and breathing person who is just next to him.

No, dearies. This was someone who had seconds to react at something horrible. That was a murder, I’m not talking about Bucky being innocent or not. It’s a about a canon fact that you’re trying to cover to excuse the things that Wanda Maximoff did in Age of Ultron. You’re inventing. I just present you the fact here.

So, please. Spare us of the stupidity of “Tony killed Wanda’s parents” posts and hijacking. Tony Stark was never close to her parents. Never touch them, never known them. He wasn’t the person behind heir deaths and you know it.

Bucky killed Howard and Maria Stark. It wasn’t his fault but he did it. He said it himself:. But I did it.

I am not blaming him. I’m not accusing him or saying that was right to harm him. I’m just stating facts and I put the screenshots for that. It’s canon. It happened.

Your “Tony killed Wanda’s parents” did not.

@lokasennahiddleston thank you for the screenshots and you can add what you want. @alethiaii @bitterfriends @thealextheshipper @queenyavengers

anonymous asked:

biker even and isak on the back :D

aaah tysm for the prompt anon 💝  i really do like the idea of even on a bike :)


isak has been listening to thomas brag about his job and his possessions and how well connected he is ever since he got into his car. 

“the restaurant i’m taking you to, it’s the best in town when it comes to italian food. you usually have to book two months in advance, but,” he stops to wink at isak. “i know people.” 

isak simply nods at him. “that’s awesome,” he says, although he doesn’t really mind where they end up eating. he’s not much of a picky eater - with his long shifts at the hospital, he’s learned to settle for whatever’s edible and readily available. 

“obviously, it doesn’t quite compare to the authentic dining experience you’d get in italy, but i own real estate there, you know - i’ll take you one of these days.” 

i can’t just randomly take time off to travel for the sake of “an authentic dining experience”. we’ve met a week ago. this is the first time we’re spending time alone. 

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anonymous asked:

doesn't mod s call herself a feminist? she can't be muslim and a feminist, islam is a male dominated religion, women have to be constantly oppressed. it's disgusting how muslim women are treated

Well, first of all, I’m use they/them, but thanks so much for misgendering me!

You wanna talk about how Muslim women and and woman-aligned people are treated? Fine, we can talk about that.

We can talk about how the Quran was revealed in 632 AD, saying how women are equal to men. (“And their Lord responded to them: ’…be you male or female - you are equal to one another.’” [Quran 3:195])

We can talk about how in the 16th century, western men were still debating if women had souls.

We can talk about how in 632, the 1st century, Muslim women had the rights to choose who to marry, to divorce, to work, to educate and be educated, to have their won inheritance, to their own land and property, to have their own businesses, to participate in combat, to half their husband’s wealth, to have their own opinions, to have custody of their children, and on and on and on.

We can talk about Muslim women’s right to have a voice in government. Tell me, when did the USA give (white) women “equal participation in the political process,” or voting? 1920. Muslim women have had that since 632.

We can talk about how Pakistan, Bangladesh, Indonesia, Turkey, Kosovo, Kyrgyzstan, and Senegal have all had female Presidents or Prime Ministers. How 1/3rd of Egypt’s parliament is female. How in the lovely USA, we haven’t even had a women vice-president yet.

We can talk about the hijab, niqab, abaya, and burqa, how they’re mainly worn to protect women from leering men, and to allow women to interact freely in public without people being able to judge their bodies or looks and only having their minds and personalities to make judgements off of.

We can talk a out how the Western world has twisted our clothing into “women have to cover up because they’re indecent!” and women and feminine-presenting people get attacked and have their coverings yanked off, either because of Islamophobic hatred or misguided attempts at saving us.

We can talk about how I’ve had my hijab ripped off twice, both times by white men, once outside my community’s masjid (the Muslim place of worship.) And oddly enough, my clothing didn’t stop me from breaking one of those men’s noses when he went after my sister. Just like it’s never stopped me from going to school, or playing sports, or doing anything a white woman or woman aligned person could do.

We can talk about how outside of the masjid, where men and women are required to cover their heads, I’ve never once been made to wear a hijab.

We can talk about how the only people who have lectured me about dressing modestly were non-Muslim teachers and other educators.

We can talk about how people want to preach about how Muslims think women are indecent, when western schools freak out when a girl shows her shoulders.

We can talk about my cousin who once made a joke about women belonging in the kitchen and how out of thirty people in the room, the only person who laughed was his white friend. How his father immediately corrected him.

We can talk about how the first university ever, the University of al-Qarawiyyin, was founded in 858 by Fatima al-Fihri, a Muslim woman. How despite that, the summer I was thirteen and taking extra courses at the community college, an instructor praised me for joining even though “I know Muslim parents don’t let girls have higher education.” I had to look her in the eyes and ask who she thought was paying for my classes.

We can talk about the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.a.w.) who denounced all forms of enslavement of women, and assisted women in issuing their rights to exist freely.

We can talk about people who rush to condemn Muslim men for hurting the “defenseless” girls, then turning around and making jokes about raping and hitting women.

We can talk about the “saviors of Muslim women,” talking about how they’re so oppressed, they don’t get to make their own choices.

We can talk about how these people completely ignore anyone who says they’re wrong and call them brainwashed. Because of course millions of women have been coerced into believing in a tradition that views them as subservient, what other explanation is there?

We can talk about how patronizing and infantalizing this is, how it denies Muslim women and woman aligned people agency and puts our “saviors” on a pedestal. “We need to be their heroes! Because obviously they can’t fix their problems without the aid of white people!”

We can talk about how it’s true that Muslim women suffer from misogyny. How there are Muslim men who think of women as lesser, how some Muslim women are forced to cover themselves and marry. Because guess what? There is no culture that is exempt from misogyny and sexism, gender discrimination is a problem everywhere. But you cannot call an entire culture and religion inherently misogynistic, that is in no way true. 

We can talk about how somehow there’s this incredibly untrue idea that Western cultures have “progressed forward, and sexism doesn’t exist here, only in other countries and cultures.”

We can talk about how if people want to help Muslim women, all that is needed is for them to listen to us and follow our lead.

We can talk about how Muslim women and woman aligned people do not need white people to save them. We have always been capable of helping ourselves.

There are a lot of conversations to be had about the treatment of Muslim women, if it’s something you want to discuss.

But the thing is? People who talk about how oppressed Muslim women are generally don’t.

You want a deflection from your misogyny, “You think I’m bad! You should see how Muslim girls are treated.” You want an excuse for your Islamophobia, “We need to criticize Islam, they treat women awfully!” You want justification for western imperialism, “These wars are necessary! We need to save the poor girls!”

You don’t care about Muslim women and women aligned people.

Stop pretending like you do.

- Mod S

Crestwood Analysis: Sad Lavellans, Angry Lavellans, and Solas’s Cowardice

I wanted to write about the different break-up options in Crestwood and how, at least for me, the differences play out emotionally in the aftermath, based on whether you choose the Sad (“I love you”) or Angry (“Don’t do this to me”) options. I’ve never played or headcanoned the third and, honestly, one truly hopeful option before (“I believe in us”) and so have less to say about that, but I would be interested if anyone can offer their perspective per the Hopeful option, ie: such a generous response to such a cowardly act. My Lavellans have both been too brash and too young for that kind of immediate sense of perspective. Note that this is not an argument in favor of any one response, just my own personal reading of how emotional dynamics play out differently between Solas and Lavellan post-Crestwood, based on the different responses I’ve chosen in the past. Also, sorry for the length of this post. I tried to shorten it, but it just kept getting longer, so…yeah. I threw it all in. Reckless abandon!

I am not sure what the most popular option has been in Crestwood. There’s no way to know. For me, with my first Lavellan, I went full Sad. This is because it felt tragically romantic, like when Angel breaks up with Buffy in season three, or when Edward breaks up with Bella in New Moon. I am a sap and a masochist that way. But for whatever reason, I had a really hard time with this option, especially in the aftermath. It seemed strangely contradictory to me, that she could be so upset, so blindsided, so terrified of losing him, and yet he merely is apologizing for “distracting [her] from [her] duty.” At this point, duty distractions, to me, seemed irrelevant, or another matter entirely. Filling in the blanks here, ie: between the balcony kiss and this—this immense sadness on her part, plus his cold response to said sadness—was difficult for me.

Of course, it hurt like hell in the moment. Obviously. I made a Tumblr. But for whatever reason, afterward, I had a really hard time headcanoning this one, ie: resolving all the weird, dissonant emotional chords that seemed to be going on at once in the scene, and then reconciling them with what happens later on. If they are as in love as Lavellan’s reaction suggests, why did he think merely referring to himself as a “distraction” would be enough to definitively break things off? Is he seriously that cold? Maybe. Perhaps he has to force himself to be this cold simply in order to deal with the situation. Eep. Dark. Still, I thought she would have more questions, ie: Why are you being so cold? What are you talking about, my “duty,” you’ve never cared before? I also found it hard to envision their relationship after Crestwood. I mean, unless you play it otherwise, there’s a bit of time still before the final battle with Corypheus. How did she stay away from him? Did he have to turn her away again and again? She was just so hurt in Crestwood, so confused. How could she not at least try and understand? And after the final battle, how is she so composed, speaking to Solas calmly and with what seemed to be a great deal of perspective, or at least acceptance? Perhaps others could, but I couldn’t make sense of this.

Once I got to Trespasser with my first Lavellan, I then couldn’t reconcile her desperation in Crestwood with her casual demeanor in the beginning at the Winter Palace. It seemed like she would have spent the previous two years searching for Solas frantically, and then wondering if, perhaps, he might somehow be there, at the Exalted Council (like actually be there—not throwing Qunari through eluvians and baiting her with blood trails). She was too beholden in this playthrough, and I couldn’t figure out how she could be both the calm, cool Inquisitor joking with Varric and talking marriage with Cassandra, and also be Solas’s frantic ex-girlfriend at the same time. Then, in the end, that she didn’t immediately jump into his arms when she saw him for the first time in two years felt like a major flaw. I needed her to need him more, and I was getting none of it from the game. Partially, this is an issue of the writing, but also, because I’m sort of like this emotional canon purist (ie: emotional dimensions outside of the game must resolve as they do in the game—I need it to be real), it all just ended up feeling a little bit meh. So, naturally, I started over. From the beginning. New Lavellan. I needed to get it right.

Okay, so the other night, with my new Lavellan, who I’ve been playing amidst droves of fanfic and hours of headcanon daydreams, I realized in that moment, in Crestwood, that the only possible response to his cowardly behavior seemed to be incredulity and anger. After everything they’d been through? This is how he ends it? Unbelievable. Her aggressive, physical response—shoving him, yelling, calling him a “cold-hearted son of a bitch”—felt so true in the moment. I sort of lost my breath a little bit. For some reason, the level of cowardice in his behavior (and it is—it is cowardly) seems to be compounded (or negated) by her response. If she responds by begging him to stay, telling him she loves him, this lowers the effect of his cowardice in general, because all the focus is on her emotional response to his behavior rather than the behavior itself. The cowardice has little effect on her. She seems to care less about whether what he’s doing is cowardly. She cares only that it’s happening at all. This response seems based in an unconditional fear of losing him. But if she responds by aggressively pushing him, demanding that he tell her he doesn’t care (which he can’t do, and she knows it), essentially calling him out on his cowardice, this highlights the motive behind his action rather than just the action itself. This, to me, makes his default reasoning of “duty distraction” to feel like just a cover now, ie: the first thing he could think of to say in his moment of bumbling cowardice.

The dialogue choice for the angry response reads, “Don’t do this to me!” It is the one response where the focus is on her. It is also the only response in which Lavellan walks away from Solas. The other two responses are focused on him or them (“I love you”/”I believe in us”). In both of these options, Solas walks away from Lavellan. I am tempted to draw a connection back to my earlier claims in another piece about their sexual/emotional dynamic, ie: with an angry response, this is the only time that Lavellan can be seen pulling away or walking away from Solas. It is otherwise always the other way around.

When Solas is able to walk away in the end, it makes the entire affair seem colder, and much more in stone, even as if he’d prepared himself for the coming of this very moment. But in the angry break-up, he seems completely taken off guard, especially by her response, which is physical and bitter, ie: “Tell me you don’t care.” Another dare. What she sees: He is brave enough to break up with her, but not brave enough to tell her why? I like this Lavellan, because, like in previous scenes, she is sort of putting the ball in Solas’s court. In the Fade and on the balcony, however, this has reminded Solas that he holds the power, which empowers him to continue the exchange (ie: to kiss her). But here, in Crestwood, even with the ball in his court, Solas has no way of responding. He cannot tell her the truth, but he also cannot bring himself to lie about his feelings. All he can do is take her abuse, stand there, and apologize as she walks away. He has fully lost control now—finally, and it is because of this that he is forced to reckon with his cowardice. This was powerful for me. I also knew that “cold-hearted” comment bit him. Solas is much more of a Romantic Hero during this option—far more self-hating and emotionally distraught than he was in my initial playthrough.

Because when she’s pleading for him and telling him she loves him during the sad breakup, his response is to put up his hands, to ward her off coldly, to say “I can’t. I’m sorry,” and then just walk away, leaving her there. Again at his mercy. I think my Lavellan, this time around, was a little bit sick of being “at his mercy.” She wanted more. Plus, his reaction in the sad break-up, his behavior is so cold, and so is his ability to walk away: it makes him seem more secure in the fact, if not relieved, that it is finally over—even if he’s hurt, it is held back.

I also feel that, during the angry break up scenario, his decision to break up with her does actually feel sort of believably spontaneous and cowardly and regrettable. Like, he really was gonna tell her the truth about the whole Fen’Harel thing, but he chickened out, and then the vallaslin removal was like this great, unfixable mistake, and he just legitimately realized he had lost all control of his feelings, the situation, and the relationship at large. He cannot walk away. How could he? He has no idea what’s just happened. Solas is so rarely caught by true surprise. Especially after watching him just like, own the Iron Bull in a game of head-chess entirely in banter the other day, I’m not sure he knows how to deal with even one small, legitimate moment of spontaneous indecision. Certainly not a stalemate. Because you cannot plan ahead for those. And he is prideful, and a martyr, so when caught off guard, of course he defaults to the mission, and he bails on anything so unpredictable and unwieldy as love.

Oddly enough, I’d argue that Lavellan’s angry response forces Solas to actually confront the reality of their relationship, while a sad response immediately hardens him to the situation. To avoid her tears, he must effectively switch off his humanity. He backs off, on guard. However, he lets her anger in, because he feels he deserves it. This, to me, is a good thing. Any time you can get Solas to feel, that is a good thing.

Once she’s gone, I picture Solas just like, dropping to his knees, realizing what he’s done, and, based on her reaction, terrified that there will be no going back. In the sad break-up scene, it seems like he still has an out to change his mind—if he wants to. Her reaction leaves him in control. But in the angry break-up, she is in control in the aftermath. There may be no going back, no fixing this mistake. Fen’Harel is obsessed with fixing his own mistakes. So he disappears, takes two years to suppress his feelings for her, because he has no choice, and, whether mistaken or not, doubles down on the plans he abandoned her for in the first place. Then, when he sees her again, and she is still open to him and his redemption, even somewhat forgiving, despite a modicum of, not resignation, but reason, it’s all the more hurtful. He falls so easily back into old tropes in Trespasser when he calls her vhenan, suggesting that their relationship has permeated him subconsciously, that it won’t die easy, won’t die at all. Their reunion is powerful then as, in his own very familiar, noncommittal way, he comes back around at the end (as he always does), calls her his “love,” tells her he will never forget her, takes the anchor, and, per his duty (and his nature), leaves. Again. WHY, SOLAS?

The angry break-up sets Solas up a bit differently in the immediate aftermath as well, I think, at Skyhold, ie: he’s in the wrong, and he knows it. Meanwhile, Lavellan’s anger sets her up for all of these wild reactions and methods for coping, doing just about anything to get him the hell out of her head so she can, as she puts it in the scene, “move on.”  This is very much my own headcanon, but I picture her like, heading out with the Iron Bull to anger-slay some dragons the very next day. Maybe she’ll bring Solas, too, but on the condition that he is a “powerful rift mage” and that she needs his magic if she wants to succeed. She still loves him, but in her defeat, she, like him, has grown too proud to relent. Though it hurts her, she treats Solas as a tool, a means to an end, which, considering Solas’s motives for joining the Inquisition in the first place, is ironic. And hey, I’m just trying to build a story here. I like irony.

Of course, I am still a deep romantic, and so I know that all of this is just reactive. Lavellan still loves Solas, but she is actively upset with him, searching out a way to reconcile her anger at his inexplicable cowardice and her own (apparently) unconditional love for him. Their interactions at Skyhold, as I see them, are often extended and bitter on her part, as she, starving, will do anything to draw any sort of emotional response from him at all. He, meanwhile, shows only self-loathing, taking her abuse, while trying to search out her true feelings without showing his hand. He calls her “Inquisitor” out of guilt and deference and speaks only of their final fight. It is hard for him. She may not refer to him at all, trying to get a rise out of his “cold heart.” At times, she may be downright mean, but he believes he deserves it, so just like in Crestwood, he is defeated and hard-pressed to defend himself—

Lavellan: You really don’t let anybody see under that polite mask you wear, do you?

Solas: You saw more than most.

Then, by the time it’s the end of the game, and they defeat Coryphy-tit, and the orb is shattered, Lavellan’s expression, her composure, will make sense in ways it did not when I played the sad break-up. Solas confession then (”No matter what comes, I want you to know that what we had was real.”) almost reads like one more apology. It is quasi-closure. I mean, at least until you get to the end of Trespasser. After the sad break-up, I couldn’t understand her composure in this moment at the end of the main campaign. But somehow, the fact that she became angry provided her with an immediate outlet, catharsis, a way to process, and now, Lavellan can see that, no matter what, they’ve been through a great deal together, and in the end, being so angry seems foolish, even silly. Perspective begins to set in, making everything even sadder and more hopeless than it was before, but also setting up the next two years as a time in which Lavellan at least attempts to get over Solas (even if unsuccessfully), rather than spend so much time and energy searching for him.

Solas: I suspect you have questions.

I mean, you think?

The end of Trespasser is so very sad. Lost elf, come home. I haven’t gotten there yet in this playthrough, but I hope to fully understand her initial subdued response now. She had hardened herself for so long in her attempt to move on. But the more they talk about their relationship (”And so he did.”), the more she softens to him, lets him in again, remembers. Just as quickly as he falls into the old routine, so does she. At this point, the term vhenan is so loaded–a single utterance conjures a world of joyous and painful memories. He still loves her, and she loves him, but the complications are…dire. We shall see what happens.

Anyway, this is just one way to read the different Lavellan responses at Crestwood, and I would be interested in knowing how other people read their Lavellan’s response in the end. I love hearing how others have managed to reconcile their internal stories with the (often downright sparse but immensely tantalizing) material we get in the game.This is just mine.

Now scuse me while I go watch this and cry hysterically. <3

andy1105  asked:

Omg! I'm really sorry but thanks to you I can't get enough of Sheith-Spider-Man au!! Hahaha XD Can I have their first kiss??? Pleaaaseee 😅

Dude, it’s okay. I’m all about the Sheith Spider-Man au I was literally thinking about it while I was riding the bus to work looool 

[Sheith Spider-Man Homecoming AU] Part 3 (1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)

Weeks passed by and nothing much really changed with Keith and Shiro’s relationship except they hold hands now in secret, which was exciting every time for them because they were both new to the whole boyfriends thing. So Keith was glad they were both noobs. 

They were having their academic decathlon team practice when Keith received a text message from Thace:

Hey, kid. Kolivan wants you at the Avengers HQ ASAP. I’m waiting outside your school gate.

Keith’s eyes widened. He looked around and Allura was discussing strategies and such and the rest of the team were listening intently. He looked to his right and Shiro’s attention was on Allura as well.

Thace would kill him if he didn’t get out now—well, okay he wouldn’t, but still. So he leaned in to Shiro to whisper, “Dude, I need to leave. Thace is outside waiting for me. Avengers thing.”

Shiro leaned closer and turned his head that their noses bumped. “Oh, okay. Good luck. I’ll cover you, man. Be careful, okay?” 

His Spider Sense was probably offline because Keith didn’t feel the “danger” when Shiro closed the gap between them and gave him a soft peck on the lips. His eyeballs felt like popping out and Shiro even had the nerve to be shocked at what he did when he leaned away quickly. 

It was their first kiss.

They just stared at each other, a silent “Holy shit” screaming between them.

“What the hell?” Pidge broke their awkward staring. 

By the time both boys turned their head towards their fellow member, the rest of the team was staring at them in shock. Lance had his mouth open so wide a fly could literally fly in and he wouldn’t even notice. Hunk looked like he was on the verge of squealing or crying, probably both. Pidge had her eyebrows raised in confusion and Allura… damn Allura dropped her book and gaped at them, her eyes blinking rapidly as if not believing what she just saw.

“Uh… um, uh,” Keith fished mouthed. “We’re uh, a-a… uh, we’re a thing.” he nodded awkwardly as he turned to Shiro. “We’re a thing now I guess, yeah?”

Shiro nodded quickly. “Yeah, l-like living things. Ha ha. G-get it?” 

At the same time Keith said, “Like Thing 1 and Thing 2. That kind of thing.″

The second Keith heard what his boyfriend just said, he gave him a look that clearly said Really? Living things? What the fuck, Shiro?

Before things got more awkward, Keith stood up to excuse himself to Mr. Coran and Allura. 

“Keith, wait!” Shiro called out as he ran after him.

As Keith turned around, Shiro was already giving him the kicked puppy dog look and he was always weak for Shiro’s kicked puppy dog look. It was unfair.

“I’m sorry for what I did there. I.. I kinda panicked. And you were so close I didn’t know what got into me and—.”

Keith held his hand up in the air. “It’s okay, Shiro. It’s no big deal.”

“It was our first kiss,” Shiro whispered. “So it kinda is a big deal.”

“Dammit, you’re right,” he clicked his tongue and breathed out heavily, as if releasing the stress he was bottling up. “What a huge step this is for us.”

“Monumental even,” Shiro smiled fondly.

A snort escape from Keith’s mouth before he could even stop it. “We even skipped the cheek kisses and you kinda just went straight for the gold.”

Shiro chuckled. “We’ll talk about it later. You should go now or Thace will decapitate you and I won’t have anything to kiss anymore.”

“I knew you were only keeping me for my lips,” Keith joked and then he felt his phone buzzing again. “Okay, I gotta go now.”

Shiro nodded and he pulled Keith in for a hug. “Be careful, okay? Text me when you’re at the Avengers HQ. Make Karen call me when you’re—”

“Okay, Mom,” Keith rolled his eyes.

“I worry, okay? It’s not everyday I get to date Spider-Man,” Shiro huffed. 

“You’re such a lucky dude, aren’t ya?” Keith smirked. “Getting to have all of…” he gestured to himself, “…this to yourself for hugs.”

“For hugs,” Shiro repeated while laughing. “Now go or Thace will have my head too and we can’t have that. We have a decathlon to win and I need my brain for that.”

“Okay,” Keith nodded as he fixed his bag strap. “Bye!” He quickly pulled Shiro to give him a peck on the lips. His boyfriend didn’t even get to say anything because he ran towards the school’s front door but not before he shouted, “That was our second kiss!” 

The smile plastered on Shiro’s face was so worth it.

“You know they’re going to ask me questions once I step back in that room! Especially Pidge!” Shiro shouted.

Keith’s laugh echoed through the halls. “I know!! Give them hell! Love you!”

ptw30  asked:

Hihi! You mentioned on AO3 you have no prompts for Ulaz and Shiro right now, so...if you're still taking prompts, would you mind writing one about Ulaz and Shiro - maybe at the Blade headquarters? Thanks!

Ohhhh I do not mind. I do not mind at all.

Technically they aren’t at the Blade headquarters here, but. Um. I’m not sorry. 

:D

Kolivan is not pleased when Ulaz calls him from halfway across the galaxy.

“There were no other options,” Ulaz repeats, for the third time. Kolivan stares back at him from the communication screen, silent and impassive. His mask is down, but it’s no improvement: Kolivan’s face is nearly as stoic and unreadable as if he had the mask up.

Nearly. Ulaz isn’t fooled. The tick in the corner of Kolivan’s eye and the small flare of his nostrils give him away.

“Be that as it may,” Kolivan says. His tone speaks volumes, too: brusque, blunt, syllables sharper and harsher than usual. ‘Not pleased’ is an understatement. “I cannot permit you to come blindly back to headquarters after such a foolish sacrifice.”

“My actions were not foolish,” Ulaz insists, defensive and heated. The comm unit in the stolen Galra ship is small, made smaller by the tracking devices Ulaz ripped out and dismantled with his bare hands. The ship was intended for short journeys; it was never meant to make the long trek Ulaz faces now. “Against your timing, perhaps, but not foolish. Thace is still on board. He will remain as informant for as long as physically and feasibly possible.”

“The choice was not yours to make.”

“And yet I have made it.”

“At what cost?” Kolivan asks. The comm image blurs for a tick before it steadies, stable. “Your plan has failed. This was your alternative?”

Ulaz casts a glance over his shoulder. Shiro’s asleep, propped up against the far wall - ‘far’ is a generous statement. This ship is too small. Shiro’s tucked his back into a corner, his arm cradled to his chest. He’s sleeping off the drug and what Ulaz is fairly certain is a concussion.

“No,” Ulaz admits, quietly, “This was not part of my plan.”

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Jughead & Reader: Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Everyone thinks you and Jughead hate each other but as it turns out, the two of you actually hook up behind closed doors. One night Archie drops by your house and finds out the truth.

NSFW** Like, for real.

Requested by: anonymous


Listen to: Closer - Nine Inch Nails 


“Trade you my baked lays for your flaming hots,” Kevin suggested as the two of you joined your friends at lunch. 

“That’s a terrible trade,” you told him with a laugh. “And this isn’t elementary school. You can just go to the vending machine and buy better snacks like an adult.”

“If we’re adults why must we continue to ask permission to go to the bathroom?” Kevin argued. “This place is like a prison.”

Veronica laughed. “I take it you aren’t having a good day.”

Kevin sighed and said, “Joaquin cancelled on me this weekend and we were going to see a movie. I had the whole night planned and my dad was going to be working late so we’d have the place to ourselves. But now I’ll just go home and eat a ton of ice cream and ugly cry while watching really old Audrey Hepburn movies.”

“Sounds good.” You laughed, teasing him. He rolled his eyes at you. 

Betty smiled. “Well why don’t we all do something this weekend?” 

“I’d be down for that,” Veronica said. “Beats sitting at home thinking about what it’s going to be like when my father comes home next week.”

“I don’t have any plans. I’m in,” Archie said. 

Everyone looked at you. “What about you?” Veronica asked.

“Oh, um. Sure.” You shrugged. “Sounds good.”

At that moment, Jughead walked over to the table. Your heart was racing but no one would ever tell by your expression. You rolled your eyes and shifted in your seat so you weren’t looking at him directly. Kevin just laughed. “You still hate him, huh?”

“What are you guys talking about?” Jughead asked as he joined the table.

“We’re all going to go see a movie this weekend. Want to go?” Betty asked him.

“Who’s all going?” He asked. 

Veronica sighed. “_____ is going but that doesn’t mean you can’t go.”

“It absolutely does,” you interjected.

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Rom-Com Starter List
  • Friendship:
  • "I'm not washing vomit out of your hair again."
  • "Who do I need to punch?"
  • "Don't worry, I covered for you."
  • "You're seriously going out in that?"
  • "I don't think one bottle is going to be enough."
  • "Oh my god! My eyes!"
  • "You started dancing in the middle of the street and you expected me to join in..."
  • "I can't believe he/she/they did that to you!"
  • "How do you suck so badly at this?"
  • "A toast! To the best friend in the universe."
  • Romance:
  • "I was trying to be sexy!"
  • "Are those for me?"
  • "Tonight was...perfect."
  • "You can't just kiss someone like that!"
  • "How do you even do that with your tongue?"
  • "I can't believe your Mom/Dad just walked in on that..."
  • "When I was a kid, I used to dream about meeting someone like you."
  • "Are you asking me out?"
  • "Is that a phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
  • "I'm so sorry! I swear I don't usually vomit all over my dates."
  • "Did you just say that you love me?"
  • Enemies:
  • "Oh, you're going down."
  • "You look like shit. Is that the style now?"
  • "I can't believe that I ever thought you were a decent human being."
  • "Is that the best you can do."
  • "Oh no, you look great in that. My Grandma/Grandpa has something like that back home."
  • "If you take one more step..."
  • "How could you do that to me?!"
  • "I'm not apologizing."
  • "I can't do this anymore. I just can't."
  • "I don't hate you. That takes way too much energy."
  • "Go fuck yourself."
  • Texts:
  • [Text] Help. Stuck in the elevator with that creep again.
  • [Text] Fuck, don't tease me like that.
  • [Text] You want me.
  • [Text] Where did you go?
  • [Text] Date boring as hell. Save me!
  • [Text] You suck!
  • [Text] Might be a little late...cover for me?
  • [Text] How did you even get this number?
  • [Text] We're having a movie night. Bring ice cream and booze.
  • [Text] I fell asleep in the middle of him/her fucking me. Do not think they want to see me again.
  • [Text] What is wrong with you?

rowanismybae  asked:

Nessian losing their unborn baby... can't get more angsty than that. 😭😭😭

THE ANGST.

It destroys me internally, but also, you know how much I love to cry while writing. Thank you, friend, for fulfilling my angsty needs.

For those of you who are new here, I love to cry. Get used to it.

Warning: Intense, graphic material ahead. Angst.


Originally posted by coldrainy

She was sitting on the window sill, watching the rain when I had left our room earlier that afternoon.

I could still remember the crimson stained sheets in the middle of the night, of her crying my name, shaking my shoulders in a panicked daze.

She blamed herself. It was early in the pregnancy, and the doctor said that sometimes, unfortunately, things like that just happened, to no fault of anyone. Nesta didn’t believe that, though. She was stubborn. 

Often times, I found her stubbornness charming. It was one thing that attracted her to me in the first place, how she held her chin up high and stood her ground. But, in this instance, I wanted to fight. I wanted to scream, and punch things, and shake her until she realized that our loss was not her fault.

It was no one’s fault.

It was a tragedy. 

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this is mostly for @cafecliche‘s benefit but anyway this is called “icegays - safeword joke” because there’s only so much weird subby victor fic I can take. Let alone “homie, is this a fic, or is it a SSC manual thinly disguised as a fic for a popular fandom????”

Still a rough draft but also I had to copy it over from notebook, so more or less edited but unbetaed.


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Sins of the Father: What the Spirit Says

Pairing: Finn Bálor x Reader

Warnings (some potential triggers): Incredibly sacrilegious/blasphemous smut, anal sex (female receiving), graphic death (minor character), hints of dub-con, detachment, bondage, knife play, blood play.

Word Count: 1141

A/N: Hello hello! So we’re coming to the point in the story where things get disturbing as hell. This is the beginning of the end.

Anywho, I hope you enjoy it. :)

My Bálor Babes: @yourr-anger-your-anchor@motleymoose@georgiadean37@wweximaginesxd@racheo91 @daddy-slug@blondekel77@ambrosegirlforever @liam-is-sexy10 @fucking-bandsx@boundtomyfate@hotspurmadridista@florenceivy@geekoftv@behindthesesilvereyes@vsturgeon5489@thegoddessqueenrileycarter@justhavingfun123469@wwesmutandstuff @devitt-club @anerdysouthernbelle @thebadchic   

Originally posted by letstalkwrestling

Because context - even of the sacrilegious kind - is everything, catch up on the Masterlist before you proceed.

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White Wine Nights

Summary: In which, we expose Lin as a wine mom 

(I really couldn’t think of a better description, I apologize)

Author’s Note: yay, my collab with @hamilbye!!! yes, it did take us that long to decide to write together and yes, it only took us like three days to finish this. We put our amazing brains together and wrote this pretty quickly. 

I love love love working with you, Nat. It was the most fun. I also love love love you. You’re the best. AND you’re very talented. 

Words: 2,138 

Warnings: alcohol/drinking mentions, a curse word or two (I forget), fluff 


An audible sigh escaped you when you stepped off the elevator in your apartment building, taking a right turn to head down the long hallway. Your feet carried you, but protested heavily after the shift you had pulled at your dead-end waitressing job. You were sure you smelled of stale cigarettes and dirty dishes, but at least you had some cash in your pocket. As if that hadn’t been stressful enough, you hadn’t even seen your apartment in about 20 hours due to college classes and familial commitments. It was the week before Spring Break and hectic was the synonym for your life.

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I can’t believe I actually wrote this. WC: 1414


They said he was crazy. They said he’d never find him, that he was just some myth. That his sightings were just the result of some people taking one too many drugs.

But he knows he’s real, and he is going to be the one to find him.

He’s never gonna give up, not until he finds him.

Not until he finds Mothman.

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anonymous asked:

Can we get a fic with reader and kylo, but kylo is a mermaid and reader is human? I can't really think of a plot to request, I just want mermaid kylo haha

Anon next time can you please request more of a plot! It just makes it a whole lot easier and less time consuming. We also don’t really do full fledged fics, because that would be too much for this type of blog. That being said, I think you’ll like this


When you first meet him it’s on the water, you’re taking a walk and you stumble upon a series of caves; that seemed to appear out of nowhere. You decide to venture inside, walking on a ledge around a clear, blue pool. The water here seemed to be different too, it glimmered even though there was no light and it was still despite the waves outside of the cave.

You sat down on the ledge and dipped your legs in the water, enjoying the cool liquid lapping at your skin. You stay like that for a moment, taking the time to reflect on the serene beauty around you. It was hard to believe that you were the only one here; this place was truly a hidden gem.

You feel something very faintly brush against your leg, but pay it no mind, it as probably just a fish and that wasn’t something to fear. What does scare you is when you feel a strong hand suddenly wrap around your leg, startling enough for you to quickly pull your legs out of the water.

A man surfaces from under the water, tilting his head and giving you a questioning look. “What the hell?” You ask. Where did he even come from? You didn’t see anyone around it was definitely too far to hold his breath and swim here. The man reaches out and grabs your foot, inspecting it like he’s never seen one before. Then he runs his hand over the skin of your leg and you shiver, “So soft,” He murmurs. 

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