PLUS SIZE GOTHS AND WITCHES THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL KILLSTAR IS NOW ROLLING OUT THE PLUS SIZE CLOTHES WITH A SELECTION OF BLACK WITCHY DRESSES UP TO SIZE 4XL I AM SCREAMING I NEED IT
Today was the first really hot day of the year and I wish my pool was open so I could rock these cute suits!!
I bought and reviewed a few one-piece swim suits from Rue21! These only go up to a 3X but I included some links to some bigger sizes of similar suits from other places for you if you need them!
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Boh. Angst? Demetra and Cullen, chapel scene before the final battle in DA:Inquisition.
“Whatever happens, you will come back.”
His voice is low and he holds her against his body, maybe cursing the armor between them, a protection that’s useless when they’re together and that is depriving them of a precious moment in which they need to feel each other.
Demetra knows he craves to hold her properly, and the cuirass is just a cruel remind of the danger outside his arms.
They both want to feel the other, skin, scars and life.
It’s not about sex, it’s not about comfort either. It’s about strength.
For her, to remind that she’s doing this not for an abstract ideal, but for her love ones, for him, and she must be enough to keep her promise and truly return.
For him, to find the strength to let her slip away, staying still while she’ll ride towards her destiny, once and for all, taking from him joy, kisses and books read together.
Demetra grabs Cullen, pressing her face in the comfortable fur of his cloak, her eyes closed, lulled by his warm and the light scent of incense in the chapel.
She wants to cry, the lump in her throat is too painful, and her body is on the verge to break under the pressure. She’s not sure she’ll be enough to make another miracle.
But she promises anyway to return, adding the importance to keep a promise between them to the list she had started to write when she has become Inquisitor, when she needed good reasons to not give up.
“The thought of losing you, I can’t…”
Neither can I, she thinks, gently passing her hands on his face. He’s tired, but under the pale skin there is courage, there is pride, there is hope.
There is love.
Behind eyes too old, a bright sparkle of life, and that secret jolt of affection meant just for her, a blur of tears and golden unspoken words.
She kisses his lips once, twice, caressing his cheeks. It’s a simple, tender gesture she has done often, since the beginning of their relationship.