He reached out and took Nina’s hand. Wylan suddenly felt he was intruding on something private. “I am grateful you’re alive,” he said. “I am grateful you’re beside me. I am grateful that you’re eating.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re better than waffles, Matthias Helvar.”
A small smile curled the Fjerdan’s lips. “Lets not say things we don’t mean, my love.” (x)
As promised, here’s an edited version of the Sander Sides as benders! Hope you like it! And it made my day that Thomas saw my first version and said he liked it, and all your faves and comments really mean a lot, so thank you everyone <3
(I wrote “passion” for Princey because I think that’s the most fitting word for him)
— sex | implied exhibitionism | mild dom/sub tones | if u’ve got a praise kink then ur gonna love this | mentions of daddy kinks | instances of spanking
;summary — you’re the supervisor of the clothing department with a lot
of useless lingerie knowledge, jungkook is the jewelry department’s defiant hot
boy who flirts in wristwatch brands. basically an upscale retail au, but with
lots of implied under-the-counter sex. and when an opportunity presents itself to fuck
each other in the boss’s office after hours, you’re both too hot for each other
to say no.
Neil spotted the Foxhole Court long before they made it to the stadium parking lot. Built to seat sixty-five thousand fans, it’d been placed on the outskirts of campus where it could tower over the shorter utilities buildings nearby. The paint job only made it stand out more: the walls were a blinding white with obnoxiously bright orange trim. A gigantic fox paw was painted on each of the four outer walls. Nicky clapped a hand to Neil’s shoulder. “All the orange grows on you,” he promised.
-Cat… I love you. I have to love you. But that doesn’t mean… It isn’t… I’m… You don’t have to love me.
-What’s the difference between a joke and a riddle? The answer could be clever or funny. Or political or deep or anything. It could be, but it’s not… The answer is, “who cares”? You are who he made. Fine. And I’m whatever the horrors of my life made me. Fine. All our sins, our earned tragedies, all of it. All that damn pain. It’s all here with us. It is us. And I’m sure it’s all meaningful or hilarious. Or philosophical or deep or something or everything. We could spend our whole lives mired in the complexities. But really, compared to us… compared to you and me… what we have, or could have… all the pain we have… honestly. Who cares?
“Who said ‘please’ that made you hate the word so much?” Andrew gazed at him in silence for a minute. “I did.” Neil didn’t know what answer he’d been expecting but this wasn’t it. Andrew tolerated his blank stare for only a couple seconds before waving this all off as inconsequential and uninteresting. “He said he would stop if I said it.” “You believed him,” Neil guessed. “I was seven,” Andrew said. “I believed him.”
“And that’s the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too.” —Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner
Is there a dream role?Not a dream role. There’s dream directors because again at the end of the day, the role… you could have the greatest script, you could have the greatest role, you could have the greatest cast, it doesn’t mean shit if you don’t have a good director. I’ve seen amazing scripts that I was like this is going to murder at the Oscars come out and be a dud. And I’ve seen scripts that were very, very average and mediocre come out and be sleeper hits because it begins and ends with the director.