So if Pan grew up, and married someone who was demisexual, and demisexuality is only being attracted to your significant other, could be described "significant-other-sexual"…does that mean they would be “Pan"sexual?
It feels as though a mountain cliff drops on his bed and
before long Solas is scrambling. In the night, colored only by waning
candlelight slipping beneath the door, blue eyes blink down at him.
“Hello,” Ellana says.
It takes him a moment, then two, in the end even three,
before enough clarity returns to assess the situation.
“Are you having trouble sleeping, vhenan?” he asks, voice
still coming as if through a fog as his hands idly crawl up her sides.
She shrugs, evasive, and in the darkness a brief second of
life is breathed into warm embers.
“What are you holding?” he asks.
She answers with a chuckle that fails to escape. As if she’s
holding all the air in, as if her lungs are too greedy. Arms bracket the sides
of his head and there is a crackling warmth by his ear—something that doesn’t
nearly matter as much as the swell of her breasts pressed so tightly against
him and the inquisitive tip of her nose, too busy mapping his cheek in an
The brush of her lips is but a lingering touch at first, but
she beckons him to open with a quick lick, a little nip, and her tongue is too willful—delightful—pleasant
to deny as it slips into his mouth.
She laughs and the kiss turns sloppy.
Slowly, she pecks the corner of his mouth, a gesture he
knows well, before devouring him again.
But this time she does not kiss. She blows and smoke rushes from
her lungs, whistles past her teeth, and races down his throat without ceremony.
He coughs and hacks and even buries his face into her
shoulder for she’s sprawled herself along him, willowy frame shaken by
Ellana snorts somewhere next to his ear.
“I found a pipe,” she whispers. “And so much elfroot.”
“Yes, I understood that,” he says.
“Why do we only have five pots?” she mutters.
“That truly is an injustice,” Solas agrees.
“I can blow a dragon,” she reveals, sitting back on her
haunches, one hand braced against his chest as she blows a cloud of impressive
nothing into the air above him.
“I should fetch my staff,” he says, the taste of smoked
elfroot heavy on his tongue. “Skyhold is surely in danger.”
She stares at him for a moment, the picture of
contemplation. Then, with the pipe lodged solidly between her teeth and hips
grinding sinuously into his own, “Nah, no need. I think I found it.”
“Ellana,” he begins, breathless, before a pinch to the thigh
cuts him off.
His sudden gasp is less than stately. The pipe travels from
her mouth to his and she bumps him on the nose, approving, as her surprisingly nimble
fingers busy themselves with fastenings down below.
“I’ll kiss it for good luck,” she affirms, resting her chin
on his stomach for but a minute while gazing up at him.
He releases a puff of smoke, allowing a faint spark of magic
to shape it into a legitimate dragon.
That feeling when you send your work crush an email asking a work-related question (hoping he will agree to do something with you), and he replies with a generic response, and you reply with a semi-joking answer, and he replies with a little more interest (but directed at your whole department, not you specifically), and you reply with a couple paragraphs you spent too long writing in an effort to make him smile and get him to take you up on the offer (not that it is really his call–his boss and your boss have to make that decision), and he doesn’t reply, and two days later you are still hoping he will reply, or if that doesn’t happen you’re at least hoping he will surprise you by showing up for your work thing anyway, so then you can at least imagine that maybe he chose to work with you because he likes you too.
I have another theory why Steve & Bucky do not hug. For Bucky, possibly, Pierce had been pretending to be Steve for years. In Bucky's confused mind, he still see "the Steve" who had him tortured. He is still confused between the real Steve and Pierce's Steve.
wow… that is a very dark and very twisted way of seeing things my friend… i like it
i guess i could see how when bucky starts getting pieces of his memories back pierce wouldve have realised and like everything else, he wouldve used this too as a tool to further manipulate him
but then i remember sebastian saying that buck’s thoughts, his memories, are the only thing keeping him sane which is why he’s holding onto them so tightly, writing them down in his notebooks that goddamn backpack makes me so emo trying to remember everything… and the thought that pierce used that part of him too just to abuse him makes my heart ache oh my god why must you do this to me
Full Name: Sophie Victoria Hughes. Pronunciation: SO-fee vik-TAWR-ee-ə. Meaning: Wisdom, Victory. Reasoning: Sophie was the name of her birth mother and Victoria is the name of her adoptive grandmother. Nickname(s): Soph (only by family), Tori, Tor. Preferred Name(s): Tori. Birth Date: May 23rd. Age: Nineteen. Zodiac: Gemini. Gender: Cis Female. Pronouns: She/her. Romantic Orientation: Biromantic. Sexual Orientation: Bisexual. Nationality: American. Ethnicity: French (mother) and Scottish, Irish (father). Current Location: Empire State University.
“I dreamt about you last night.” Sam’s even breathing and the beep of the monitor answered him. Dean lifted a hand where it had been braced against the bed railing and scrubbed it over his face. “I dream about you every night. It’s why I’m not getting much sleep- they’re all nightmares.”
i know it’s crass to talk about money but ya girl doubled her paycheck this week and was so polite to her boss that she got next friday off (unheard of in the ~nightfill sector) to go to a warehouse party