No Hugs: Loki x Reader

“Alright Avengers, announcement to make!” Tony called loudly drawing the attention of everyone in the lounge.

Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Thor and a man you didn’t immediately recognize from the various news reports looked over.

You blushed weakly, trying to duck away or at least hide your face, but Tony wrapped his arm around your shoulders and plowed on. “This is my niece, (Y/n), she’s going to be staying with us at the tower. She has a major in public relations, and hopefully can help our public image.”

“You have a niece, Stark?” Steve asked, frowning, “I didn’t know you had any siblings.”

“I don’t, but she’s practically family and like a niece to me, so don’t get any funny ideas. Just wanted to make sure I introduced her properly.”

“Thanks Tony.” You hugged him tightly, “I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“You never could.” Tony smiled.

The various Avengers stood up and slowly made their way over to you, all but the mysterious dark haired man you didn’t recognize. He wore clothing similar to Thor’s armor, even though Thor was now dressed in casual Earth attire, so you wondered if there were similarities.

“I’m Natasha,” Natasha greeted, holding her hand out for you to shake it.

You grabbed her in a tight hug and smiled, “You’re amazing! It’s so great to meet you!”

She quickly pulled away, casting you a bemused look, “Right, yea. Well, let me know if you need anything, or if Stark bothers you, or if you have any dirt on him that would make for good stories.” She winked, “C’mon Clint, let’s go work on that program you were talking about, we’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

The man you recognized as Clint Barton hurried after her, offering you a quick salute, “Ditto on her offer, glad to have you with us.”

You waved at the two assassins as they left the room.

“Steve Rogers.” Captain America greeted you, awkwardly accepting your hug. “Wish I could stay to chat, but I got a thing to get to, sorry about that. Let me know also, anything I can do to help you out, I’m here.”

“Thanks Steve.” You watched the tall super soldier shuffle from the room. Turning your attention back to Bruce you chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’ll save the hug for you.”

“Thanks, nothing personal.” Bruce mumbled, “I gotta get to the lab, c’mon Tony.”

You watched the science brothers walk off before returning your attention to the last Avenger standing before you.

“Lady (Y/n)!” Thor greeted, scooping you into a massive bear hug. “A pleasure to meet kin of Tony!”

All the breath rushed from your body, squeezed out of you, but you managed to pat Thor on the back gently before he finally set you down, “Thanks! I’m really glad to be involved with such a group.” Thor stood towering over you, beaming down at you. You glanced towards the couch at the man still seated, and noticed he was reading a thick book. “Who’s that?” You asked.

“That is my brother, Loki.” Thor explained gently, “Loki, will you greet our new acquaintance please, I think it would do you well.”

Loki sighed, finally standing up and unfolding himself off the couch. He seemed to magic the book into oblivion and your mouth dropped open as it vanished from sight. Loki slowly strolled over, looking down at you unimpressed, “Very well.” He muttered, “And I’m Loki, which you obviously know.” He rolled his eyes.

“It’s great to meet you also!” You lunged forward, hugging him tightly. It struck you how cold he felt through his many layers of leather clothing, but you ignored it.

Loki winced, quickly pulling away. “Don’t.” He snarled shortly, a faint tremor seeming to run through him. He shut his eyes, jaw clenching before turning and, for lack of a better word, fleeing from the room.

You frowned, watching him go before looking back to Thor, completely confused.

Thor’s hand still raised, as though trying to stop you or Loki, you couldn’t be sure. Slowly, Thor’s hand sank back down to his side and he hung his head, sighing heavily, “I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“What’s wrong?” You asked, overcome with concern. “Did I do something wrong?”

Thor shook his head, “No, the fault is mine. I didn’t think you would dare to attempt that, so I couldn’t warn you in time. You know the tales of my brother, yes?”

Frowning you thought hard, “Was he the one who attacked New York?”

Thor nodded, “Yes, there is more to it, but I’m only just beginning to uncover the truth of his actions. He is known for his lies, but,” Thor hesitated and sighed, finally trailing off. “He shies away from physical contact. I was blind to not notice sooner, I fear he experienced a great deal of pain before the madness that caused him to lash out at humans so fiercely took hold.”

A pang of guilt and sympathy pulled at your heart, “I have to apologize, I had no idea.” You turned, rushing from the room, calling to Stark’s AI to lead you to Loki’s whereabouts.

Thor opened his mouth to stop you but hesitated, unsure if you would listen to his reason. Though perhaps, it might do Loki some good.


Shortly, you found yourself standing outside a nondescript door at the end of Tony’s private library. You knocked hesitantly, “Loki, it’s me, can I talk to you?”

The door slowly opened a crack and Loki peered out at you, scowling irritably, “What?” He felt weak, foolish, to allow a mortal to draw such a reaction from him. Something about your touch had called to mind that which he wished to forget. Loki forced himself to appear cool and calm as he glowered down at you.

You noticed the signs of a mask, of someone in pain not wanting to share or let others see. “I’m really sorry Loki, I had no idea. I just like hugging people and certainly didn’t want you to be left out.” You apologized, trying to convey your sincerity. “I read that people are touch starved, we as a society don’t hug enough and I always want to make sure to rectify that in any situation I can. I didn’t even think, I’m sorry.”

Loki’s expression faltered, the cool indifference slipping away to a sort of curiosity.

“Please forgive me, I never meant to upset you.” You finally added, feeling tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

“I don’t need your pity.” Loki sneered.

Frowning, you tilted your head uncertainly, “Pity? No, I upset you, I just wanted to make it right.”

Once again, the genuineness of your emotions struck Loki. He squinted at you, searching for an ulterior motive, “Why should you care?”

“Everyone deserves compassion.”

Traces of a long forgotten smile touched the corner of Loki’s mouth as he stared down at you. Warm, soft, you reminded him in ways of Frigga. “Surely not I.”

“Especially you!” You sighed again.

Loki opened the door fully, still not looking away from you. “You are very different from the metal man.”

You half smiled, “Yea, well, I wasn’t raised by him, just an old family friend. I should probably get going though, I do have work to do.”

Loki nodded, “Of course.”

“Uh, it feels weird not hugging someone when I leave though.”

Loki fought the desire to step back from you, further retreating into his room and into himself. He stayed put, scowling down at you, waiting to see what actions you might take.

“Can I do a high five?”

“A what?”

You held up your hand, “You just lightly tap your hand against mine.” You brought your other hand to yours, effectively clapping. “Two people clapping type thing?” You offered.

Loki glanced down at his hand, the one the frost giants had revealed his heritage to so many years ago, then back up at you. Slowly, he raised it upright and allowed you to tap your hand against his lightly.

Beaming, you laughed, “Cool! Let’s do that instead, that way you don’t have to hug, but I can still count it as a hug. You’re supposed to get like six hugs a day to be healthy, you know?”

“Am I?” Loki responded softly, glancing down at his hand. He could still feel where yours had touched his. The revulsion of touch still clung to him, but there was none of the familiar pain he was forced to ignore.

“Anyways, I’ll see you around Loki. I look forward to getting to know you.” You waved walking off down the hallway, phone already in hand as you began planning out the various assignments Tony had emailed you.

Loki watched your retreating form, head tilted to the side, a curious sensation welling in his chest.


And so it went, you and Loki spending more and more time together. Each day you greeted any of the Avengers you saw with a hug, except for Loki, he got your special high five. Some of the others noticed, occasionally laughing. At first, Loki seemed annoyed by the looks they gave the two of you, but the feeling faded as he saw how happy you were to simply be making contact with people. Perhaps the hugs were as much for you as it was for them.

You and Loki would read and talk for hours, spending a great portion of your free time between missions just talking about anything, getting to know the other. And, as always, your parting and reunions were always met with the gentle high five and Loki’s bemused expression at the simple pleasure you gleaned from it.

Thor watched from afar, doing his best to spy on you and his brother, hoping that such a friendship might heal his damaged brother. In all honesty, the constant support seemed to be doing Loki a great deal of good. He laughed and smiled more, genuine laughter and non-sardonic smiles, even playfulness that didn’t stem from actual misery slowly returned.

Thor walked past you and Loki sitting on the couch, discussing one of your favorite books in great detail. Thor glanced down at you and Loki; Loki stared so intently at you that he barely seemed to notice Thor’s presence. Still smiling, Thor entered the kitchen, searching for a drink, though the conversation carried in from the lounge.

“So that’s why I just love the story.” You finished. “It’s just so well written and just covers everything. Can’t beat the classic hero’s journey.”

Loki chuckled, “Agreed. Though sometimes I find myself sympathizing with the antagonist.”

You snorted, “Of course you would.” Normally you would playfully shove a friend who responded with that, but you had trained yourself not to overstep Loki’s fragile boundaries. In a way, you didn’t mind. He seemed happy just to be talking to you, and you certainly liked just sitting and talking with him as well. You mimed flicking him, letting him know the intention was there.

Loki laughed again, arm resting over the back of the couch as he sat beside you. If you leaned your head back, you would be able to rest it on his hand. Even his body language was more open, though both of you were very careful to not actually touch the other.

Miming pain, as though you had actually flicked him, you rolled your eyes at Loki’s antics. “You’re a fool, you know that?”

“I have never claimed to be wise.”

You raised your eyebrow, “Really? I’m pretty sure that’s a load of bull.”

“Intelligent, clever, certainly, devilishly good looking, but not wise.” Loki winked.

“Alright, fair point, I can attest to that. You keep getting into too much nonsense to be wise.” You glanced down at the time, sighing, “Well, I gotta get some sleep I think.”

Loki peered at the time with you, nodding, “Agreed.” Slowly he stood up, waiting for you to stand as well.

“Same time tomorrow?” You asked, holding out your hand for the customary high five.

Loki hesitated, glancing down at your hand, “Yes…” He began slowly. You looked up at him uncertainly, not sure why he was suddenly hesitating. Then, very slowly, and with great force of will, Loki reached for you, gently pulling you into his arms and hugging you.

You stiffened up, enjoying the sensation but fearful of pushing him too much by hugging him back. Loki held you there for a moment, doubt slowly creeping into him. You could feel the tension flowing off him and very slowly, you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him back. A moment passed, both of you holding your breaths, not sure how to react to the other.

Then slowly, you both pulled away, hands still resting on the other. Loki smiled as he looked down at you, “Thank you.” He murmured softly.

The faint traces of fear and doubt showed in his eyes, you had learned what to look for and you smiled reassuringly, “I appreciate it.” You managed to answer, overcome with emotion at Loki touching you in such a way.

Finally Loki pulled away from you and you quickly dropped your hands. Loki licked his lips nervously, nodding, “That was, unexpected.” He muttered finally.

“I enjoyed it.” You mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Loki smiled weakly, “I did as well.”

Out of the corner of your eye, and luckily beyond Loki’s notice, you saw Thor beaming at the two of you. He mouthed “Thank you” before ducking down and waiting for the two of you to leave. Loki carefully took your hand in his, the two of you making your way to your separate rooms. You weren’t sure what would come of this, but for now, you smiled, heart warm and light as you felt Loki’s hand squeeze yours gently.

Just Like a Movie, Just Like a Song

Amy Santiago does not break rules.

The sky is blue. Water is wet. Jake Peralta and Raymond Holt have been in Witness Protection for six months and one week. And Amy Santiago doesn’t break rules.

She turns the phrase over in her mind late at night, her darkened apartment lit in only one corner by the eerie and unnatural glow of her laptop screen. Her internet browser is pulled up, but she stares down at the screen in blazing indecision, chewing her thumbnail so fiercely she’s in danger of ripping it right off with her teeth. She’s never been a problem child, she’s always made good grades and sucked up to her teachers and professors and Captains. She’s so compliant with the rules that it’s really almost a fault, one Jake had no problem repeatedly pointing out in their first few months together as partners. It goes against every fiber of her being; even just considering it stirs up the deepest dregs of anxiety down in the furthest pit of her stomach.

She doesn’t break rules. She doesn’t. She’s a good daughter and sister and student and detective. As she stares down at her screen, her screensaver flickers to life; it’s a nine-month-old selfie of herself and Jake, taken out in the swirling snow on one of their shared days off sometime between Christmas and New Year’s. Her face (the upper half of her face, the part not hidden beneath a thick maroon scarf) is flushed from the cold, the tip of her nose red, but her eyes are bright and laughing - Jake’s kissing her cheek, his long nose smushed against her temple. As she studies the image, the ghost of his lips brushes once again against her cheek and phantom winter winds slip through her hair and down her spine.

She toggles her wireless mouse, feeling the determination that is suddenly welling up from the center of her chest set her face into the same hard lines she’d adopted earlier when she’d chewed her team out. She’s got more than enough money saved up to cover all the necessary costs - money she’d planned to use to cover all the unexpected expenses that come with moving in with a boyfriend. She only feels a vague pang when she sees the total, but she quickly reminds herself that having him here, alive and safe, is far more important than being able to buy a new couch. The only thing stopping her now is that pesky echo of CJ’s voice reverberating through her memory, but that’s drowned out quickly enough by two voices shouting over each other somewhere in the back of her mind that sound suspiciously like her twin brothers’ saying things like oh, the shame! The scandal! Mimi’s breaking the rules! What will mama say when she learns she’s raised a criminal?

She grits her teeth, her thundering heartbeat more than enough to drown them out. Three clicks later and the deed is done; five tickets for the 4AM flight to Miami leaving JFK International are emailed to her, each one bearing a name belonging to each member of her squad.

Her fingertips tingle as she pulls her phone from her jacket pocket but she pushes through and dials Rosa’s number anyways.

“What?” Rosa answers.

“Screw what CJ said. Pack your bags.” Amy says (and it’s only a little breathlessly). “I just booked all of us a flight. We’re going to Florida.”

She half-expects some quip along the lines of ‘what did you do with the real Santiago’ or something, but instead all she hears are the muffled sounds of Rosa moving quickly through her own apartment. “What time do we leave?”

“Four AM.”

“Pick me up at three-fifteen.”

The line goes dead with no further discussion, and as Amy begins dialing Terry’s number, her screensaver once again flashes across the screen. Her gaze falls upon it over the edge of her phone, and for a moment she stares as hard as she can at Jake’s face, willing the picture to come to life so that he can look at her and hear her.

But his face remains firmly fixated to his right, his lips cemented against the side of her face, his eyes closed and lashes delicately brushing against her cheekbone.

“I’m comin’, Pineapples,” she murmurs.



anonymous asked:

3,11,49 with Nct Jaehyun please (^.^)

“I hate you.”

“I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Can I sleep with you tonight? I don’t want to go home and deal with the guys.” He whines, turning over to look at you after he pauses the video game.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know. Can you?”

You flash him a smirk before he launches over towards you. You try to push him back but he was too strong and placed his hands on your waist. His hands going straight to work to tickle you.

“Say yes!” He laughs, continuing to tickle you.

“P-please stop!” You cry between your laughs, trying to pull his hands from your waist, “Yoonoh!”

“What~” He coos, pulling you closer to his body on the couch.

“I hate you.” You smirk, pushing him teasingly.

He lets out a laugh before squeezing your cheeks, “there’s no way you can hate your best friend.”

That’s when it hit you. As much as you wished that he knew about your desire of being more than friends, you knew that it was almost impossible. You had never told him, though multiple times throughout the years you had always tried. But every time you tried to confess your true feelings, you always got tongue tied and lost every thought in your mind.

You hadn’t noticed that your facial expression had changed until Yoonoh got off of you and crossed his arms.

“You alright cupcake?” He asks, leaning back into the couch, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“N-no! It’s just.. I had something on my mind.” You blurt out, waving your hand to signal he wasn’t in the wrong.

“Something on your mind?” He questions, tilting his head to the side in a cute way.

You felt your heart skip a beat as you watched him pout his lips in a way to think of what you could have on your mind. Not knowing how to respond, you nod your head with a smile.

“Would you like to tell me what that could be haunting that mind of yours?”

You thought for a moment, debating whether or not it was time for you to finally say what has been on your mind.

“I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” You stammered, looking at the ground as you lost all confidence to look directly at him.

“You’re in love with me?” His eyes widened.

You nodded, biting down on the inside of your lip.

“And terrified.” His eyebrows lift as he scoots closer to you, “why?”

You leaned back into the couch, trying to move further away from him.

“Because I’m scared you won’t feel the same.” Your voice turning to almost a whisper. You were twiddling your fingers waiting for him to say something in return.

He was overjoyed from your confession but he, being in the same boat as you, did not know what to say in return. So after minutes spent thinking of a response, he decides not to say anything but just went to plant a peck on your cheek.

Your eyes widened, “did you just?”

“I like you, too.” He giggles, planting another kiss on your cheeks. “I like you so much I just wanna~”

“Yoonoh do not think about tickling me again!”

“Too late.” He laughs mischievously.

Send me a number and a member of a group.

Thank you for sending in a request! I hope you liked it ^^

-Admin Jess

Just submitted my first grad school research paper.

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Weird delay

We just got a call that the closing on selling our old house is delayed. Financing is fine, and there aren’t any problems, but the buyer has to suddenly be out of town. It will be sometime in the first half of next week instead. That means we don’t have to turn over possession until then!

Even though I’m super ready to be done with the whole thing, I’m actually pretty happy that I get a few extra days to get the new place cleaned, let the painters finish, and then move things over more slowly. The big furniture will all come with the movers on Thursday morning, but more time to get the little piddly stuff will be extremely helpful.


seapruncs  asked:

“I’m not angry at you, just at myself… Because I knew this would happen, but I let myself fall in love with you anyways.”

     Zuko sat at his desk, tapping his pen against a notebook in front of his laptop with only a desk light to illuminate the dim, crammed room in his studio apartment. It’s a well known fact that New York never sleeps, and the cars whisking by below out the cracked window gave testimony to the stereotype. The cool, transitional breeze blew through the window, rolling up the sides of his notebook paper as the rapping of his pen kept it from completely turning over. 

   Katara’s accusations spun in his mind, and had him licking the front of his top teeth, and then clenching his jaw, taking a deep breath. She was taxing his patience this week, and he didn’t know what she wanted. She was being drastically melodramatic, and it made him want to roll his eyes back into his head. He got home yesterday from a business trip to Washington DC, and there was plenty of catching up to do. He lost his dad’s business, so he was struggling to earn a pHD while teaching high schoolers in Queens. He wanted to get into politics, but teaching it would have to do until he got his degree. Katara was still in medical school as well. 

   They were both busy, and he didn’t understand what she didn’t get. They’d been together eight years, married for three. What was so wrong? “I don’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean, Katara,” he grunted, slapping shut the notebook and spinning around in the cheap, office chair they’d bought off a Staples shelf display model for a discount. 

    “What did you know would happen?” he grumbled in vexation. He hadn’t done anything. Before he left they’d just been to the Jersey Shore together for the weekend, and she was laughing with him. She’d been ignoring him since he got home. She wouldn’t hug him when he got off and found her in the middle of Penn Station. He’d broken his phone halfway through his business trip, and couldn’t answer her texts. He called from a work phone, but her phone was set to not allow voicemail from numbers that weren’t saved. He told her that in the car as she drove through the traffic from hell to their shitty apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. 

     He grew quiet a moment, fingers delicate tracing the binding of the notebook. His voice got quiet, and he hoped the question wouldn’t roll off his tongue, and then when it did, he hoped it was too soft for her to hear because he feared the answer. “Do you… do you not love me anymore?”

“describe this feeling for me.”

dogs throwing their heads back
a beetle in frantic spasm on its back
a paper in frustration turned over to its back side
and on the inside,
a snow globe disappointed with its own snow

“that makes no sense at all.”

the dry hand raises to pinch the bridge of an oily nose
the dryer eyes retract behind those comforting lids
the eyebrows that grow apart are brought close
by hot blushed cheeks distraught by the sight of those lips

the mouth now dry from the salt raining down from above
the lump in the back of the throat that rises and rises up
the teeth held tightly together mimicking what the arms have now lost
the tongue moist and limp in the mouth
is the body crying in defeat upon the floor

surrounded by torrents of hate,
of fear, of all things dear, of tears in vein
of sorrow, of no tomorrow, of all the things you borrowed
of goodnight texts, of late night pets, of those friendship bracelets
of every feeling you discarded and left—like clothes shattered
in a soft mess
on my bedroom floor—like a web
of concentric feelings beginning with your love.

—  me

Fynn: “Ugh….”

Alina: “Are you in pain? You should lay back down. Let me help you.”

Fynn: “I’m….alright….just….give me a minute.”

Alina: “No, you are not. And I’m exhausted as well. Let me help you and then we can sleep a little.”

Fynn: “We?”

Alina: “Oh, right. I forgot to tell you that we all talked before I came in here. We can’t leave you alone without fear of Dredan coming in here. So we are taking turns sta-”

Fynn: “Watching over me like I’m a child?”

Alina: “No…..we just….want you to be safe. That’s all.”

The mussels are meant to be wet. Smooth. Blue-black. Their shells the color of depths. I run my fingers over them, arched like whale backs in a bowl. They’re alive. All of them are, I think to myself. How often do we hold living things in our fingers? I go through each one, turn it around and over and find the rough rope in the seam on its flatter side. I wiggle the stubborn anchor loose and drop it in the basin, where they scatter wet like feathers in a storm. The mussels don’t die right away when I pull their beards away. But they begin too. They’re what hook them to rope or stone or wood or something solid where they grow in a blood of salty water, waving in huddles. Have you ever seen a baby mussel, smaller even than a peppercorn? I have. Once. It was stuck to my knee and it glistened in the sun. I find one mussel, open a little, lips parted like in morning sleep. Are you dead or just resting? I bang it hard and fast on the wall of the sink. It echoes. Dark liquor spills from the open mouth before the lips close tight. A small child waking from sleep in the still-dark and wanting more warmth. More sleep. More dream. A reaction. It’s alive. Hello, I say. You’re OK. I’ll keep you. Cleaned and rinsed and all still alive, I spill the mussels into the oil behind me, turned yellow on the stove with onion and garlic and wine, swine, a fingernail of tomato paste and a bay leaf I crack in half. They all die in there. They exhale. You can hear it if you listen. A whisper. Psst. I was, once.

[Painting: Seven Mussels by Derek Jenkins, date unknown]

londonlock  asked:

Why does Sherlock (the show or the character, you choose) mean so much to you?

The show Sherlock has completely turned my life over, made me see the Light, gave me a purpose, makes me want to live life with positive and happy thoughts in my mind, has made me more confident about myself, improved my writing skills to the extent that I score better in my exams, has helped me come to terms with my sexuality, gave me the biggest platform to interact with people who have similar interests as me and are the loveliest friends, has made me more vocal about my opinions when earlier I used to suppress them, has taught me that its okay to be different from others and lastly, that no matter what happens, there will always be something in you life which will make it worth living (which, for me, is the show Sherlock). I owe so much to this show. *wipes a happy tear away*

Thank you so much for the question! 

anonymous asked:

that one year would be over on the release date of mitam right? sorry i know you answered this before but i'm not sure i remember correctly :/ and thanks for sharing what you can :) xx

Either the release date or the delivery date (when they turned the completed master over to Syco), so PROBABLY no later than November 13, but possibly before.

But also, the contract I heard about is not 1D’s contract, so they may have added caveats, I don’t know.

Gathering Ingredients: Part 1

Some parts of the plan had worked. 

The witches words echoed in his mind, the request and the regents. Even more then the bizarre and lurid dreams that visited him in the camo. “You must gather these by the winter solstice.” turning the ideas over and over as he stored the five jars in a stachel.

The troll had grown used to traveling in leathers, to walking on two feet and worse of all the deafening silence of normal sense. “Fire from a holy place.” words that could mean so many odd things.

Keep reading

graci-grace  asked:

Wait wait WAIT! I got the ideas you know the "damn dude I'm scared" moment after wards Arin being really cuddled and sorry...or after Arin freaks and dan gets nervous and Aaron is like super cuddly😊😊😊😊 thanks

Gaming and Coffee || An EgoBang Fanfiction for @graci-grace

Arin threw the controller across the room in distress and anger, He growled at the screen and sat back. “Dude, Arin are you okay,” Dan asked moving a hand on his back, ”Maybe you should take a break.” Arin looked at Danny, He seemed worried.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” He got up stretched and turned over to Dan, “Are you okay….” Arin trailed off looking at Dan’s trembling lips, he could tell he was scared now, really scared. “Dude, you look looked angry, like Attack on Titan angry,“ Dan darted his eyes around the room. Arin was surprised, was he really that angry? He sat back onto the couch, motioning Dan to sit down again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Come here” Arin pulled Dan into a hug. where he felt Dan’s previously hitched breathing calm. “Now, seeing how we have about 4 more episodes to record why don’t we take a break and get some coffee?” Arin stated after a few minutes of listening to the background music from the game. “Sure that sound great,” Dan exclaimed jumping up from the couch. “Come on!” He said as he pulled Arin up and off of the couch.

“Alright, alright!” Arin laughed, he did feel better now.

Hope this is what you wanted! If you don’t like it, tell me on how I could make it better for you! :)

How do you turn over deleted emails?

“I will release my tax returns — against my lawyer’s wishes — when she releases her 33,000 emails that have been deleted,” Trump said in response to moderator Lester Holt’s question about not releasing the returns, according to The Washington Post’s annotated debate transcript. “As soon as she releases them, I will release … Let her release the emails. Why did she delete 33,000?”

This makes no sense. In other words a double negative statement means he will never, ever turn over his taxes. He doesn’t ask a question that can be answered. You can’t release deleted emails. They no longer exist.

driftinglightofthewoods  asked:

"Yes, the bunny is mine. Her name is Jubelee. Why?" ((because Hinn has a bunny as we discussed.))

“Oh, she is so beautiful! I love her! Oh, you never told me you had a bunny!” Oropher squealed from where he was crouched down, turning to glance at Hinnoron before turning back to fuss over the big grey bunny’s ears. “Oh, hello sweetie! You’re such a pretty girl! Yes! I love you already! Ah! I’ll have to make you some special bunny treats, yes I will!” 

( @driftinglightofthewoods I hope Hinny didn’t want any attention tonight because it’s all about the bun)