suavity

anonymous asked:

if you wanted prompts, how about bucky pining over the cute nerd tony and getting jealous of how much time tony spends with his best friend/super popular kid rhodey

Bahaha Tony’s friendship with Rhodey is more important to me than any shipping I just want everyone to know that. Look out for more under the cut! I hope you like this, Anon! :)


“You’re staring again,” Steve commented, peeling his orange.

Bucky didn’t even try to deny it. He’d denied it the first few times and now Natasha just looked at him like he was pathetic when he tried to say he was looking at something beyond Tony. Besides, what was the point of denying it when basically the whole school knew how gone he was for Stark? Except for Tony himself, of course, the oblivious punk.

“He’s just so cute,” Bucky whined, leaning his face on his fists as he watched Tony gesticulate wildly while he talked to Bruce Banner. “With his glasses and the way his hair curls a little bit and his stupid backpack that’s almost as big as he is–”

“I’m waiting for the day when the weight of his backpack sends him down the stairs,” Clint cut in. “Fifty bucks it’ll happen by the end of the year.”

Natasha shook his hand, taking that bet.

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jean-snow replied to your post “A Brief Account of Why Vampires Are Romanian (or Rather A Not-At-All…”

This was a fantastic and very informative read, but if you don’t mind my asking… if the creatures we tend to think of as “traditional” vampires don’t come from Romanian folklore, is there a place where they do come from? Or are they really just a hodge-podge of complete fiction and misinterpreted myths from different regions?

Okay, I should preface this by saying that I’m not a folklorist and that I have no formal training in tracing the spread of folk beliefs and how they develop. I’m also going to fess up and note that while I personally am sold on the claim that strigoi are best classed as something other than vampires, there have been enough writers claiming them as vampires that I’m pretty sure that the line between them and vampires has blurred a little as a result. In particular, Emily Gerard (author of The Land Beyond the Forest and “Transylvanian Superstitions”) was a major influence on Stoker’s depiction of vampires and she cites a bunch of “vampire” myths that she claims to be Romanian in origin, and this has undoubtedly led to the modern vampire being a composite in which strigoi myths must play some part.

With that in mind, my general, not-terribly-exciting stance on the origin of vampires is that they come from Slavic-language-speaking regions that actually have mythical beings called something that sounds like “vampire” (Ex: vampir, wampir upir). I would be absolutely unsurprised if there was cross-pollination with other folkloric creatures, as is clearly the case with the strigoi at this point, and its very evident that a number of now deeply entrenched vampiric attributes are purely literary or cinematic inventions. However, at the end of the day, I’m inclined to give the original “vampire” to groups with monsters by that name, even if there is an inescapable hodgepodgeiness to the vampire we now consider “traditional.” This isn’t to say that there’s some static, singular Slavic vampire that’s the “real” thing, but rather that that’s the general direction in which one should look in trying to explore how our conception of vampires has evolved.

My basic guess as to the course of said evolution? I’m obviously not the ultimate authority on the topic, but if you want my general impression of how we got from the Slavic folkloric being behind the European newspaper stories of the 1730s and what we have today, here’s what I’d propose:

Pre-1700-1800s: Slavic vampires are a thing. They’re not particularly vampire-y by today’s standards. They’re basically zombies with a different dietary restriction, and they also sometimes steal your corn pudding, spook your cattle, wreck your crops and generally do the sort of nefarious stuff in your community that might prompt you and your pals to exhume some bodies and stab them in the hopes that the effects of plague, famine, and misfortune might be averted. You can generally kill these puppies via decapitation or staking; they sometimes have issues with apotropaic plants, running water, and/or religious symbols; and they always always always flee back to their grave when you are not asleep and being attacked.

1819: John Polidori does the one sort of competent thing in his life in that he writes a totally incompetent story about how Lord Byron is a vampire and incompetently gets it attributed to Byron himself. Vampires are now sapient people that can pass as human and are also predatory, libertine aristocrats. They are no longer jerkbag corpses that you can never seem to spot up and about; they can now hang out with you, entice you into gambling and debauchery, and murder your sister.

1820s-1890s: Lots of vampire literature happens, but it isn’t Dracula. Lots of literary vampire trends come in and out of fashion, but we tend not to remember them because they aren’t Dracula. Something that we don’t remember is how literary vampires had to either get married to keep being vampires or get married to stop being vampires. We also don’t remember that vampires, instead of burning in the sunlight, used to recharge in the moonlight. Back in the day, you could shoot/stab/strangle/whatev a vampire, and it would have the decency to die… only it would pop back up like a daisy if cold moonbeams hit it. This is sort of interesting, because stuff like the marriage and moonlight rules aren’t folkloric; they’re literary conventions that have just gone out of fashion. We do, however, remember some of the literary conventions that developed during this time, partially because some had folkloric backing, and partially because they appear in…

1897: DRACULA! Okay. Carmilla probably should get a brief mention because it was obviously on Bram’s radar enough that he initially thought of setting his book in Styria, but sadly Carm’s vampire mythos contributions pretty much get overshadowed at this point. Dracula happens and then vampires change. While the novel includes a lot of folklorically-derived stuff (some cribbed earlier vampire works, some taken from authors like Gerard), Stoker introduces some elements that are new (having to sleep in special dirt, having to be invited in, having no reflection, being really upset about garlic in particular instead of any of the gazillion other herbs vampires hate, etc…). Despite the fact that he appears to have made some of this up or ganked it from the attributes of Mephistolfeles in a recent production of Faust, this is the stuff that becomes vampire gospel. Our concept of the “traditional vampire” now does these things because Dracula is that big.

1922: Nosferatu happens. Orlok shows up, dissolves at the cock’s crow, nearly gets erased from history by Florence Stoker, but nevertheless gives vampires their pernicious sunlight allergy. I’m not the greatest at twentieth-century vampire media, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this attribute isn’t really set in stone until Christopher Lee starts catching fire in the 50s-70s.

1931: Dracula is soldified as the most important vampire thing in the history of vampires. The suavity of vampirekind also might have gotten a little off course in the journey from Ruthven to Orlok, and Bela shows up and reasserts that vampires are aristocratic in bearing and generally aesthetically pleasing. Additionally, Dwight Frye as Renfield sets up people’s expectations for the archetypal vampiric ghoul/servitor/minion for like… forever.

1950s-1980s: If you weren’t painfully aware of the fact that vampires are all about assaulting busty hapless women, Hammer Horror hammers home that vampires are -in fact- all about that, and it does so in glorious technicolor. In the meantime, Barnabas Collins helps to start the trend of vampires actually secretly being sympathetic characters full of vampires feelings, a trend that continues through various 1970s Dracula productions and eventually finds its best known expression in Lestat’s boyfriend bemoaning how dark the night is into a tape recorder.

1980s-Now: Vampires get more sympathetic, more punk, more trenchcoaty, and more popular. Then they sparkle, and everyone acts like this is some sort of travesty, because their non-Slavic, sapient, sympathetic, aristocratic, invitation-needing, sun-susceptible, trench-coat-wearing vampires are the real vampires™ and not just another iteration of a monster that’s been continually changing in popular culture for nearly three centuries.

Early in the morning, with the important paper in the bosom of his embroidered coat, Laurens, accompanied by his secretary, presented his name at the door of the audience chamber of the Count de Vergennes.  According to agreement, Dr. Franklin was waiting; he was sitting and listening, with his benevolent smile, to the polite words of the minister under whose influence, it must be confessed, the worthy old gentleman had been so moved to patience and inaction.  As Colonel Laurens entered the apartment, Franklin and the Count rose, the latter all suavity and politeness.  Franklin opened his snuffbox, and appeared somewhat nervous.  It was the first time that Laurens had found a chance to plead his cause in the way he wished to, and he opened fire without preamble.  He began to present his facts, and urged passionately the necessity of compliance with his views.  Count de Vergennes listened smiling and unmoved.  At last, as the young American was finishing a sentence in which he rather gave way to the bitter feelings that filled his bosom, the Count raised his hand, and interrupted.  He threw himself into an armchair, and his smile was sarcastic as he began to speak.  ‘Colonel Laurens,’ said he, ‘you are so recently from the headquarters of the American army, you forget that you are no longer delivering the orders of the Commander-in-Chief, but that you are addressing the minister of a monarch who has every disposition to favor your country.’

Laurens, who had seated himself, rose at once.  He controlled himself with difficulty.  After striding across the room, he turned.  ‘Favor, sir!  The respect that I owe to my country will not admit the term.  Say that the aid is mutual, and I will cheerfully subscribe to the obligation.  But as the last argument I shall use with your Excellency—the sword which I now wear in the defense of France as well as my own country I may be compelled within a short time to draw against France as a British subject, unless the succor I solicit is immediately accorded.’

— 

From “The Man for the Hour” by James Barnes

I believe @ciceroprofacto and I mentioned this display of Laurens’s temper and frustration in our recent podcast, so here’s the full context and the supposed dialogue.  This article is hardly an academic source and should not be taken as complete fact, so this event may have been apocryphal.  However, it does sound like something Laurens would have done, so I can’t deny its plausibility.

anonymous asked:

my real question is what reasons 1-75 are

owlgirl1998 reblogged your post and added:

3) Where’s Patagonia it sounds lovely?

ALRIGHT PEOPLE LISTEN UP

PATAGONIA IS THE SOUTHERNMOST PART OF SOUTH AMERICA, A REGION THAT INCLUDES BOTH CHILE AND ARGENTINA

IT’S THE MOST FRIGGIN GORGOUS PLACE IN THE WORLD

NO SERIOUSLY IT’S BEAUTIFUL

I SHIT YOU NOT THE SKY IS BLUE

LIKE YOU THINK YOU KNOW THIS BUT MY GOD YOU DO NOT KNOW THAT THE SKY IS BLUE UNTIL YOU’VE SEEN HOW FECKING BLUE THE SKY CAN BE

AND WHILE WE’RE AT IT THE OUTSIDE WORLD IS A FABULOUS FABULOUS PLACE BUT IN THE TOWNS THEY HAVE A GREAT APPRECIATION OF (A) SUBLIME CHURCHES AND (B) CHOCOLATE WORTH KILLING FOR NO JOKE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT GOES IN THIS HOT CHOCOLATE BUT I’M PRETTY SURE IT’S STRAIGHT UP AMORENTIA BECAUSE MY GOD

GLACIERS MY FRIEND BIG ASS GLACIERS THIS FUCKER IS PERITO MORENO GLACIER AND IT’S OVER 70M TALL M E T E R S 70 METERS

AND YOU KNOW THE BEST FUCKING THING ABOUT THIS IS THAT NO ONE GOES TO PATAGONIA IN WINTER BECAUSE IT’S COLD AND TRANSPORT STOPS WORKING AND YOU GET RANDOMLY SNOWED IN WITH FOOD SUPPLIES DWINDLING BUT MY FRIENDS THESE FAIR WEATHER PEOPLE ARE MISSING OUT BECAUSE DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE WE SHARED THIS GLACIER WITH???

FOUR. FOUR OTHER PEOPLE. AND WE DIDN’T LIKE SHARING SO WE WALKED DOWN A BIT AND GOT OUR OWN PRIVATE STRETCH OF GLACIER WHERE WE COULD HEAR THE ICE CREAKING AND SINGING AND CAN YOU DO THAT WITH CROWDS? I THINK NOT FUCKERS

AND ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE YOU TO THE ESTEEMED KING PENGUINS WITH GIANT FLUFFBOMB CHICKS LOOK AT THEM AND WEEP BECAUSE LET ME TELL YOU I WAS SOBBING UGLY TEARS AND IT WAS SO DAMN COLD AND WINDY THAT I GOT BLOWN OVER AND FROZE TO DEATH BUT I’D DO IT AGAIN IN A HEARTBEAT BECAUSE ACTUAL PENGUINS

WOULD YOU BE SURPRISED IF THE EAGLES OF MANWE CAME WHEELING OUT FROM BEHIND THE FITZ ROY??? YES FOOLS BECAUSE THOSE LIVE IN NEW ZEALAND IT’S CONDOR COUNTRY OVER HERE AND HOLY FUCK CONDORS CAN MOVE THEY’RE LIKE SUPER FAST AND HUGE IT’S AMAZING

BY THE WAY WE DID TRY AND CLIMB THE FITZ ROY AND IT WENT BADLY BECAUSE THE WEATHER WENT FROM THE LOVELINESS YOU SEE ABOVE TO THIS ARSECRACK OF A DAMP SQUIB

AND IT KEPT GETTING WORSE UNTIL WE HAD TO TURN AROUND AND LEG IT AND WE GENUINELY THOUGHT WE WERE GOING TO FALL OFF AND DIE BECAUSE WE COULD SEE ZIPPO ANYWHERE IT WAS HILARIOUS

IS THIS A LLAMA NO IT IS NOT BAMBOOZLED AGAIN IT’S A LLAMA’S WILD COUSIN THE GUANACO AND THESE THINGS DEFY PHYSICS I SWEAR BUT ALSO MEGA CUTE

AND INCIDENTALLY

THE FOOD

I DON’T HAVE A PICTURE BECAUSE MY HANDS WERE BUSY EATING BUT THEY DO LAMB IN A BIG WAY AND YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN QUANTITIES OF MEAT UNTIL YOU’VE SEEN QUANTITIES OF MEAT LIKE THE SOUTH AMERICANS SERVE IT IT CAUSED ME ACTUAL PHYSICAL PAIN TO EAT THAT MUCH FOOD BUT I WOULD NOT STOP IF YOU PAID ME

SO IN SUMMARY FRIEND

IF YOU EVER HAVE HERMIT DESIRES GET THYSELF TO PATAGONIA PRONTO AND MAKE SURE YOU GO IN WINTER

YOU WILL GET SNOWED IN

YOU WILL SPEND OVER AN HOUR WALKING AROUND A MOSTLY DESERTED TOWN TRYING TO FIND SOMEWHERE OPEN THAT SELLS BREAD

YOU WILL BUILD AN ALTAR OF SOCKS TO THE FIRE AND TAKE OUT THE KNEECAPS OF ANYONE WHO DARES STEAL YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE

YOU WILL STAND ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN WITH YOUR ARMS OUTSTRETCHED AND THE ONLY OTHER HUMAN BEING YOU WILL BE ABLE TO SEE IS THE GOOF YOU DRAGGED WITH YOU

YOU WILL WALK APPROXIMATELY TWENTY MILES A DAY AND MOST OF IT WILL BE UPHILL

YOU WILL SORELY MISS TREES

YOU WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT HOW FUCKING BLUE THE FUCKING SKY IS

OR HOW PRETTY IS IT

IN SHORT

GET THYSELF TO PATAGONIA

AND CRAP I FORGOT TO MENTION THEY HAVE FLAMINGOS AND FOXES AND SEA LIONS AND BIRDS AND ALL OF THAT

AND CULTURE AND HISTORY THE PEOPLE OF TIERRA DEL FUEGO DIDN’T WEAR CLOTHES BECAUSE WET CLOTHES? EEEWWW SO THEY JUST PUT ANIMAL FAT ON THEIR BARE SKIN  AND WHEN THE EUROPEANS ARRIVED THEY WENT WTF???? WHY AND BROUGHT SOME OF THE PEOPLE BACK WITH THEM TO EUROPE TO TEACH THEM TO BE “CULTURED” AND THESE PEOPLE LEARNT THE LANGUAGE AND WORE THE CLOTHES AND DID EVERYTHING THEY WERE ASKED BUT WHEN THE EUROPEANS TOOK THEM HOME TO TEACH THEIR FAMILIES THEY STRIPPED RIGHT BACK OFF AND WENT BACK TO BARE SKIN AND FAT AND THE EUROPEANS JUST WENT NO WAIT WHY SO THEY SAID “WE’VE HAD OUR TIME AS SAVAGES NOW WE’RE BEING ACTUAL PEOPLE AGAIN SO PISS OFF YOU BARBARIANS” WELL NOT IN THOSE EXACT WORDS BUT MEANING STRONGLY IMPLIED AND THE EUROPEANS HAD TO ACCEPT THAT THEY WERE BARBARIANS WHO COULDN’T COMPARE WITH LOCAL SUAVITY AND STYLE

AND AND AND THE MAGELLAN STRAIT LIKE HELLO HISTORY BEAGLE CHANNEL LET ME JUST LIE DOWN ON THIS DECK AND DIE

PATAFUCKINGGONIA BITCHES

//ok but i think a Larry/Miles fusion would be the funniest thing ever because he’d be the most inexplicably charismatic guy 

like Edgeworth has his odd allure to every lady on god’s green earth (and a fair amount of lads as well) and Larry actually seems to have skill with women (managing to pick them up anyway) and people in general. 

so like they join forces to become this monstrosity of suavity and persuasion (though he gets into internal arguments about whether to use this power for police work or to finally score the girl of his dreams and subsequently splits apart)

oh but downside there’s like 2x the self-loathing 

Thinking back, there were so many red flags warning me to stay away from you yet something about you, whether it was your suavity, your deep brown eyes, your smirks, something just kept me within your fingertips. I was enamored by you and even now I am still trapped between the memories we made together. Sometimes I wonder whether you miss me or regret those words you spoke to me that night. I hope you do, because it is finally time for you to start missing me. After all, I just lost someone who didn’t care about me while you lost someone that loved you.
—  annoymous 2016
Stupid Challenge

Originally posted by itsjaebeom

Pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Horror

Word Count: 892 finally something with less than 1,5k

Requested: Yes “ Hello! Could I please request a 2, 10, and 14 (from the Halloween prompt) with got7’s JB with (probably mostly) angst and some fluff, pretty much anything other than smut, and you’re both badasses and sass masters towards each (but have a strong relationship anyway lol)? Thank you!! <3 (if I’m late then don’t worry about it 😋)”

Summary: Halloween Drabble - 2. “ ‘Let’s split up’ better not be what you were   going to say” 10. “What is it about ‘don’t go outside’, you don’t understand?” 14. “Well not believing in it, isn’t going to stop it from coming after you.” 

- Admin Juju


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sick of being just friends ◇

pairing: mark tuan & you

genre: requested | bias wrecker | he is so adorable | so precious | wrote this in library ;-; | fluff | seatmate!mark

credit: look at him 

being your best friend is not enough for him;

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ONLY THE BEST

A/N: So Jules got me to fill a request for them and it was challenging, but definitely interesting! I changed up the request a bit, but I hope it’s still kind of what you wanted. Buckle up, ‘cause things are about to get interesting 😈

“When you open your requests again you should definitely make an imagine about how you’re James’s daughter and he’s super over protective (people will look at you and he’ll snap, guys look at you and he’ll kill them). You finally get a boyfriend and he kills him but it’s in the hotel so he’s stuck there 😂”

Hope you enjoy!

Words: 4K+

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Adam Gopnik reviews Michel Houellebecq’s new novel, “Submission”:

The charge that Houellebecq is Islamophobic seems misplaced. He’s not Islamophobic. He’s Francophobic. The portrait of the Islamic regime is quite fond; he likes the fundamentalists’ suavity and sureness. Ben Abbes’s reform of the educational system is wholesome, and his ambitions to rebuild France are almost a form of neo-Gaullism. … One of the few objects of real scorn in the book is François Bayrou, the (actual) French centrist politician whose dancing between left and right in electoral politics is legend, and who becomes Ben Abbes’s chief apologist and mouthpiece.

Photograph by François Berthier / Contour by Getty

I’ve Been So Blind

for @rise-fallen-angel, just because. <3

read it here on AO3!

Cas’ birthday party was going absolutely fine, until someone suggested blind man’s buff. 

He groaned internally. He was seventeen and he shouldn’t be expected to play dumb games - ones that he’d always been awkward about playing, even when he’d been tiny.

“This is grown-up blind man’s buff!” another person said. “When you catch someone, you either have to give them a kiss or a slap!”

Which, of course, made Cas cringe even more. He was about to disagree, but then -

“No speaking when you’re caught!” someone else agreed excitedly. “That way, the blind man has to try to guess who you are!”

Cas couldn’t honestly think of anything worse than standing in front of an unknown person and having to either slap them, or - kiss them.

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anonymous asked:

How about Aomine finding his crush actually has big boobs even though in clothing they look about average size?

Aomine splashes the pool water with his feet, already bored in the trip. Couple of his friends were already getting friendly with the girls but none of them had big boobs, so why should he? He was only waiting patiently for your arrival, because when it came down to you, it wasn’t about boobs for him. Over the years, you brought the fun in his life other than basketball, which he found refreshing, and plus, not many could tolerate his idiocy like you do.

When you make your grand entrance, red bikini sexily contouring your curves, you grab the spotlight. All eyes are turned on you, guys with toothy grins and drools, and girls with a mix of jealousy and admiration. You flip back your hair and look up, waving at your friends and running. 

Aomine stares in disbelief and actually blushes, while his eyes bulge at your figure. His mind flashes back to all those times you’ve spent in oversized pullovers and varsity sweatpants, which successfully covered your body. Due to that, he has never really imagined anything beyond A-cup, and never dared to admit his disappointment over the years. 

He snaps back to reality and shakes his head, clearing his naturally emerging erotic thoughts. Blinking away his indecency, he turns his head to find you sitting on the edge of the pool, feet plunged in the water. You are laughing at something the boys are saying, which Aomine does not find too pleasing. 

Taking off his blue jacket, he angrily stomps over in his speedos and throws it on your face. Shocked, you fumble with the lump of clothes as to not let it drop in the water and shoot him a snappy look. Then your eyes widen. 

“Just wear it, goddamit.” He grumbles, rather satisfied at his suavity. He then scowls at his own friends, silently drawing a line which they better not cross, and looks back at you. Instead of your timid reaction though, the girls, you included, are giggling away. Aomine raises an eyebrow at you, but one of your friend embarrasses him instead.

“Eh..Aomine-kun, your nose is bleeding?”

This was the loveliest Benson’s episode ever. I mean, I’ve never seen him look so adorable and sweet like he was with Applesauce. Although he’s bad-tempered, negative and has a lot of anger issues, he demonstrated his suavity and his love by doing the cutest faces and talks ever, and looking so chill and happy. And  I’m really  proud of him. I hope he’s will be able to show all the love he has in the inside in other episodes like this.  <3

Undercover 1: Truth, Dare, and the Scientific Method

“Heyyyy, Scully, look what I found!”

Mulder comes back from an unusually-long kitchen prowl, naked per the new usual, holding two lowball glasses with a half-inch each of Scotch in them. It’s the only real liquor she has — the bottle of Glenmorangie 18 Year that she bought herself when she joined the Bureau. She forgets about this bottle for months, years at a time — it’s not much fun sipping Scotch alone. The lowball glasses, with their heavy bases and beveled rims, were a housewarming present from her then-boyfriend when she moved into her apartment. She hasn’t seen them — or him — since a few weeks after the move.

“Ooooh, yum!” She sits up, holding out a hand for her glass.

“Really?” he asks, a curious smile starting on his face as he settles on the bed by her outstretched legs.

“Yeah,” she says, pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts and tucking it demurely under her arms. “It’s one of those things I learned about on purpose to fit in with the boys’ club, back in med school. But drinking Scotch actually stuck with me, unlike quoting Caddyshack or shooting pool.”  

He shakes his head, filing this fact away with the many new ones he’s discovered about her in the weeks since this insane and wondrous transformation of their relationship.

“And here I thought it was going to be a good dare,” he says, sniffing at his glass and trying not to make a childish “ick” face.

“Guess it’ll have to be ‘truth,’ then,” she says, low and throaty, taking a sip with her eyes on him over the rim of the glass like a film noir mystery woman. She’s kidding — vamping at him, amusement dancing in her dramatic expression — but it stirs him, despite the short interval between now and what got them into their current state of undress. Christ, she is sexy, and he may never find out all her secrets, but he’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to.

Aiming for suavity, he takes a small swallow of his drink, and manages — marshaling every ounce of his manhood — merely to tear up a little from the strong taste and powerful aroma, instead of coughing and spluttering like a freshman as it burned all the way down. God, how had his father knocked back so much of this stuff?

“OK,” he says, when he can speak again, “Truth: The first blowjob you gave.”

Her eyes go wide and innocent. “Why, that was three weeks ago — on your couch — that very first night we were together.”

For a long, shocked second, he almost believes it — he can feel his eyes start to bug out, his mouth go a little slack — and then she laughs and he feels like an idiot. He makes a face at her; she just makes one back, still laughing.

“All right,” she says finally. “What do you mean? First-ever attempt? First successful completion? First guy to ask me to marry him based on that alone?”

He wants to follow up on every lead, which renders him unable to pick just one — god, he must look like a cartoon right about now, sweat beading on his forehead, steam coming out of his ears, jaw agape …

“Um …” Oh, smooth, yes.

She looks down into her glass with a smile on her lips. “I’m just saying — people who hang on to their virginity — technically — because of religious guilt, tend to develop other skills to compensate.”

He purses his lips, eyebrows raised — “Oooooooh, Scully, I wanna hear allll about that,” he says, and she giggles again. They should play Truth or Dare every day. “OK — first, ah, successful completion.”

She settles back with a little shimmy of her shoulders, tongue darting out over her bottom lip as she searches her memory. “All right … I was seventeen, he was also, or close to it — anyway, we were both juniors. Met him at church. He went to the Catholic boys’ school near us — not to the public school, I forget whether he was a Navy brat or not, but he had longish hair which most Navy dads won’t allow, so I don’t think so? And he was tall and skinny, dark blonde hair, green eyes, nice kid, very respectful — like, way too respectful — I wasn’t ready to lose my virginity, but Caleb would barely touch me.”

Mulder moves closer, placing a hand on her sheet-covered thigh just above her knee, charmed by the description of what Scully once found attractive even as he finds and bats away the tiny egg of ridiculous retroactive jealousy trying to hatch in his head.

“It took us two months of very proper dating to work around to what my youth group leader called ‘heavy petting’ —”

Her sudden laugh almost upsets her drink, which she’s holding between her breasts to warm. “‘Heavy petting,’ oh brother … anyway, I finally got him alone for long enough and convinced him I really did want to — which, by the way, I did — that wasn’t really like me, at least not at that age, but I was so curious and I guess horny? Although I wouldn’t have called it that.” She takes a meditative sip. “And I knew there was no way he’d tell anybody and ruin my reputation, so he was safe that way. Plus — it’s not like I thought I was going to marry him, but I really did like him a lot. So … one afternoon when we were at his house, supposed to be studying, and his family were all out, I just … went for it.”

He’s been watching her mouth as she talks, only half-aware of his own arousal creeping up on him. He likes this new view he’s getting, of Scully the Good Girl taking charge of things.

“And?”

She shrugs. “My technique wasn’t very sophisticated, so I don’t know how great it was for him — well, I guess pretty OK, he did come —”

Mulder almost chokes on his second, wincing swallow of liquor. She laughs, a roguish gleam in her eye.

“Me, I was mostly surprised at the volume — it wasn’t the pint or so that I’d imagined. More like a few tablespoons. Also it was in spurts, not one long gout of ejaculate. Which was scientifically interesting — I hadn’t been able to figure that out from books.” He makes a strangulated noise, to her clear amusement. She goes on, “But it made a hell of a mess. I had to wear my jacket home, zipped up, and immediately do a load of laundry with my shirt and bra in it as soon as I got there —”

“You didn’t, ah …”

“Swallow? No — I told you, I didn’t have the technique down, plus — scientific curiosity. I really wanted to see it happen.”

He ponders this new revelation for a moment, wondering if her approach had anything to do with how quickly she’d learned things about pleasing him that had taken other women much longer to discover, if they ever did at all. He hopes, suddenly (though not for the first time) that he’s doing as well with her as she is with him. He shifts a little, trying to formulate a way to ask her that, but just then her eyes drop to his lap and her lips curl up in an absolutely wicked smile.

“Your turn,” she says in a husky tone that makes his erection bob eagerly toward her. He might’ve laughed at that if it weren’t for the way she bit her lip — there’s nothing funny about what he wants to do to her right now. She looks up, finishes her drink with her eyes locked on his, and puts both glasses on the nightstand. “What’ll it be — Truth? Or Dare?” She lets the sheet drop away, where it pools around her waist.

He slides his hand higher on her thigh, leaning forward to close the distance between them. He’s not sure how it works within the game, but he knows she understands when he murmurs against those soft and devilish lips: “Both.”

Macavity: the Mystery Cat

by T.S. Eliot

Macavity’s a Mystery Cat: he’s called the Hidden Paw–
For he’s the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime–Macavity’s not there!

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
He’s broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime–Macavity’s not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air–
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity’s not there!

Mcavity’s a ginger cat, he’s very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he’s half asleep, he’s always wide awake.

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
For he’s a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square–
But when a crime’s discovered, then Macavity’s not there!

He’s outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard’s.
And when the larder’s looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke’s been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair–
Ay, there’s the wonder of the thing! Macavity’s not there!

And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty’s gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair–
But it’s useless to investigate–Mcavity’s not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
`It must have been Macavity!’–but he’s a mile away.
You’ll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long-division sums.

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place–MACAVITY WASN’T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

shimmerleaf  asked:

Kaijou guys telling their s/o 'I love you' for the first time? c: Your scenarios so far have been a great read, and good luck on the blog! <3

shhh, don’t tell anyone but kaijou’s my favorite team ;D and thank you so much!

this turned out really long too so more characters under the cut!

HAYAKAWA: He started it again. The babbling. You couldn’t follow whatever he was saying. He was yelling, throwing his hands in the air. “Idon’tknowhowtoputthisintowordsandI’mjustsoexcitedbutworriedtoo.” You stared at him, blinking repeatedly, trying to get a grip of what was going on. He babbled on again and kept muttering to himself, pacing the floor of your house as you tried to do your homework. “Hayakawa,” you called. He stopped. He turned to look at you. “Baby, come sit down next to me.” You patted the spot next to you on the floor and he obeyed quietly. “Now, slow down. Breathe. What are you saying?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I love you!” He groaned, trying to slow down the pace of his talking. You blinked several times again, asking him if he was serious. “Of course I’m serious! I love you!”

With a twitch of your lips, you replied, “Well, I love you too so—“ And then he started babbling again, still yelling and swinging his arms all over the place. Though, this time, he was yelling out words of victory and happiness. Some things never change.

KASAMATSU: You were cuddling because you absolutely loved cuddling with Kasamatsu. He was a gentle lover (although he can be a total senpai in the sheets) and extremely thoughtful most of the time. He had one arm around you as he traced circles on the back of your hand. You snuggled deeper into him, inhaling his distinctive scent. He cleared his throat. You glanced up to see him, red-faced, and muttering? “Ne, Yukio, what’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing!” He blushed, waving it off and shifting on the bed. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his racing heartbeat. This was it. He was going to say it. “I love stew.” What? You stared at him. “Crap, I mean I love you.” He rubbed his face in frustration. “I screwed it up. Crap. I’m sorry. What I mean to say is that I love you. I love stew too but I love you more and—“

You kissed him to shut him up and grinned against his lips. “I love you too, Yukio.” He breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank God.”

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