highballing

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“We cannot break bread with you. You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans, and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the road sides, you will play golf, and enjoy hot hors d'oeuvres. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will have stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They have said, “Do not trust the Pilgrims, especially Sarah Miller. And for all these reasons I have decided to scalp you and burn your village to the ground.”

anonymous asked:

Can I get a scenario with Ignis and his s/o dancing to a slow song? ❤️ btw;; you complete me, 😚

Aww, you’re so sweet.


Imagine this;

You’ve been waiting for this little break in Lestallum. The days and on the road, fun as they were, left you strung out and exhausted. You adored the four blokes you travelled with but, by the Six, you needed a break.

You found what you were after in a small bar, crowded with working women, the air thick with music and chatter. The fans were going, the drinks were cheap and for once you looked good enough to eat. Nursing a highball cocktail that was half ice and half something bright green, you leaned against the bar and watched the crowd. You felt a little over dressed and soft compared to the half-dressed power workers, definitely an outsider at a glance, but it was like watching a water current flowing past, somehow relaxing.

The company helped.

Beside you, Ignis was noting something down in his little black book, lips pressed into a line. He’d made a comment about the loud music when he arrived, twenty minutes and two drinks late. Loud music was the point, you told him, lips by his ear, breathing in the smell of his cologne, herbal and fresh and working in tandem with the cocktails and heat. The sharp focus on his eyes as you pulled back made it all the worse.

He bought you a drink and one of his own and slipped into a seat beside you. During lulls in the music you spoke heads craning close, sharing tastes of each other’s cocktails. You rocked in time with the music, watching a crowd of dancer’s shimmy and twist.

A hand on yours pulled you from your daze, a bare thumb and gloved fingers gliding over your skin. You looked, meeting Ignis’ gaze. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, brows lifting. He gave a slight nod towards the dance floor in invitation. You smiled in reply, a little excited thrill squirming up your spine.  Tangling your fingers in his, you nod and slip off your stool.

The crowd is easy to slip through, people parting for the stranger in the room. The music changes, slowing as you find a clear space and turn to your dancing partner. Ignis seems to have eyes only for you. The hand holding yours gives you a gentle squeeze before urging you closer. His other hand finds your hips, and yours finds home against his chest.

“Did you plan that?” You asked following his sway. It’s still crowded and hot despite the fans blowing across the dancefloor and the goose bumps on your skin. Ignis was just as warm against your front, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Would it help if I did?” He replied over the crooning voice of some singer, fingers pressing gently through the fabric of your top. You smiled, helpless, unable to look away even as he turned you both around the floor.

“Maybe?” You said, losing his gaze as light flashed over the lenses of his glasses. The music swelled and you shivered, heart aching. You loved this song, dreamed of dancing to it one day in white. For a moment you could almost pretend you were anywhere but a crowded club.

Ignis’ hand slipped around to your back. “Are you alright?” He asked. You nodded, shoving your thoughts away to focus on the man in front of you.

“Nostalgia.” You leaned in closer. He was so warm and real, arms looping around you. It was almost too warm to be held but you leaned in closer. “I love this song.” He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your cheek.

“Good to know.”

my internet provider: miss lornacrowley we’re calling because it appears you googled the phrase “reinhardt/torbjörn meowrails couple cosplay” 40,000 times in the past 24 hours 

me, reclining in a giant magnificent suede armchair and clinking the ice in my highball glass loud enough to be heard over the phone: yeah, and

Cat,

Well, baiting me into anger always has been one of your favorite pastimes.  I’ll remind you that I work very hard to keep my rage under wraps as the consequences for the loss of my temper can be rather… cataclysmic.

You assume I don’t know how to swear.  But if you think I didn’t learn a thing or two from Alex ‘fuck off’ Danvers or Eliza ‘bullshit’ Danvers, you haven’t been doing your research.  I’ll kindly remind you that I also speak a half-dozen languages with extraterrestrial origins.  So, check your assumptions, oh great mistress.

So, you never hold back?  You, who can routinely be seen with a highball glass fused to your palm?  Who sabotaged Sandra Bullock’s spin bike rather than just ask her why she left you out of her ‘Powergirls’ weekend?  You deal with everything by confronting it head-on?  Yeah, ok, Cat.  Whatever gets you through your nights. With Susan, presumably.

And while we’re on the subject, by the way, I am just fine at sharing.  Running interference was my job.  Would you rather have fielded needy questions from ‘Danielle in Fitness’ every other day?  In her patterned stretch pants?  In retrospect, maybe you would have.  Need I remind you Susan Vasquez was my idea?  You make me sound like I’m jealous, Miss Grant.  Did you take a bump to your head in your recent incident?  Oh god, did you?  I hope you’re okay.

In any case, I couldn’t care less how many breakfasts you share with your favorite bodyguard.  I’m simply ensuring you are settling into your new normal.

And to prove to you I am perfectly capable of expressing my anger and in the most polite way possible.

Kindly fuck off,

vimeo

Never a bad day on this boulder.

Ignis x Reader Fic: Next To You

I’ve been taking a hiatus writing fics, but after reading so many others and obsessively playing the game (I’ve gotten quite good at fishing. Caught the Vespar Gar and the MF-ing Leige!), the bug bit like like a fish to a lure.

Anyway, here’s a thing for you to read. If it’s popular/demanded enough, I’ll continue writing it. This was my first stab at writing a reader fic, so the (Y/N) here is female, but feel free to change it to whatever you want in your head ^_^;

Also tagging @chocobro-daydreams and @chocobrodreamteam, hoping I’d get some kinda reblog or something ^_^;;;

Ignis sighed heavily into his highball glass of whiskey; wine wouldn’t cut it after today. The light-brown haired man picked up his glass and sipped from it, letting the peaty, hot spirit coat his the insides of his mouth and throat. His attention then turned to the opening of the door, seeing a familiar face.

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