I fumble. I’m not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. And it’s not about the sponsors. And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.
why are most furries so obsessed with squishing dogs toe pads tho like i get it yall r like “PAWS PEEPS WIDDLE TOE BEANS LITTLE PEETS UWU” but they legit feel like sandpaper yall are just obsessed with animal body parts
In which Damen, ex-heir to the corporate empire that is Peet’s Coffee and Tea and first year grad student, finds himself working at an independent coffeeshop run by the heir to Starbucks. He did not sign up for any of this (except for the grad student part).
The three Princes stand. Damianos drops his gaze from Auguste to Laurent. His eyes are honey brown, his expression taut. There’s blood on his face, dirt in his wounds. Gaze still locked to Laurent’s, he sheaths his sword.
“Oh,” Laurent finds himself saying. Damianos has excused himself from his conversation, and has begun to make his way through the crowd. Here stand the Princes of Vere, after all. The ethereal Veretian Prince brothers. Laurent lifts his eyes towards the ceiling, arching his brows. “Heavens,” he says, voice tight.