#yeah so this are my favorite lines

[blood-loving-leech]

“it’s time to lose your self loathin, excuse yourself, let hope in baby”

[ohitslen]

Promises

He should know better. 

Wolfwood has seen Vash make promises, or hear about the ones he has made in the past. He has also seen the end of each one and how every single time the outcome is less than what was promised. 

Vash likes to say embellished words, with a soft and determined voice that lures you into his hopes and dreams, it almost feels like a spell, as if he was calling for you to come closer and believe him. But Wolfwood knows better.

He believes in him, but Vash is much closer to being an idealistic dreamer than a realistic person like he is. He might not be aware of it, but his beautiful promises of a better future give people hope, a hope that is usually embraced with things like disappointment and abandonment. 

He doesn’t think that Vash does it with the intent of looking for any of those things. Far from it, he might even do the impossible in order to accomplish said promises, but life is too short and humans are too mortal for his wishes, so in the end, most of Vash’s promises end up being empty or they come to haunt him as a reminder of his failed vows. He admires the man, for his perseverance and idealism, but he also hates the man, for his stubbornness and lies. 

Wolfwood knows all of this perfectly to a tee. And yet, he has also found himself being drawn to his world. Because he also dreams of it.

A world in where his always present calls for love and peace exist, a world that is far more kind than what he might deserve, a world in where the kids can be happy and roam around without any worry in their heads, a world in where he can peacefully turn grey with age and his hands can shed the harsh callouses of his life. Who knows, maybe a world in where he and Vash can finally know the peace that was taken away from them, in where they can share the calmness that comes with the passage of time, indulging in every tick of the clock welcoming with open arms whatever comes their way without any fear.

It is a beautiful promise. But Wolfwood is a person that has to keep his feet on the ground, indulging in “what ifs” would only make things harder than what they had to be. He can’t have any ifs if he can’t make it through the now. And by the way he is carrying his present, he is doubtful he will even get to see a shed of that promised world that Vash tries to drag him into. So why mourn something he doesn’t even have, or will ever have for that matter.

He hates the way Vash seems to promise things so easily. His tongue silky and pliant, slipping divine words one after the other, promises way too big for what that barren world can actually fit. 

But when Vash talks to him in that holy voice of his, when he hears him say “It’s okay, everything will be alright, I promise” so gently right on his ear, while he holds his face so tenderly making him focus on him and nothing else, he wants to believe him.

He has seen the end of his promises. He knows how impossible they are. But for once, he wants to believe it too. Believe in that loving world that will cradle them both until they fall asleep, listening to the soft sound of the wind laughing while the moons smile upon them. 

So he allows himself to indulge in the warmth of his palms, leaning into the comfort of his existence, feeling the soft air of Vash’s breaths against his skin while their foreheads meet in a touch that feels like a hot brand that will melt him.

For an instant, he allows himself to be selfish and believe that maybe, that is how living in that world Vash so desperately fights for would be. Soft and warm, making him feel safe in the hollow of Vash’s hands where the world seems to fit so well. A world where the blue sky is a blanket that covers the love and care that is nestled in it like the one in Vash’s eyes. He wants to see that world.

For now, he will selfishly think that the world that fits in Vash’s hands is right there in where he is holding him, where his blue eyes are drowning in the light of the sunset dripping with love and care while looking at him, that the gentle touch of Vash’s thumb wiping his tears is the same as the kiss of that laughing wind in that distant future, where the smile of his eyes overcomes the smile of the moons.

He should know better. But he loves the thought of that world. And he hopes that Vash will get to see that world, because that gentle sight is more fitting for someone like him than the one of his violent world.

He promises to himself that he will do what it takes for that day to be possible. Even if the end of that promise will be empty for Nicholas, he knows it will be a full one for Vash. So it really isn’t that empty for him after all.

He hates his lies, and he hates how true they sound, but Vash’s embellished words are far sweeter than his bitter thoughts so they feel better on his insides, almost like a balm that cares for the wounds of his throbbing, painful reality.

He should know better.

But aren’t humans weak at the promise of love?

[divorcedfiddleford]

and you may say to yourself: "my god! what have i done?" and you may tell yourself: "this is not my beautiful wife!" and you may tell yourself: "this is not my beautiful house!" and you may ask yourself: "well, how did i get here?"

time isn't holding up, time isn't after us, time is a pony ride! (images described in alt text)

[marshmallowgoop]

I combined footage from my Detektiv Conan Blu-ray with audio from my Case Closed FUNimation DVD and made an HD English dub clip compilation for Episodes 57-58, "The Holmes Freak Murder Case."

[front-facing-pokemon]

[bimbosupreme]

douman gore art under readmore:

ꜱᴛᴇʀᴇᴏɪꜱᴏᴍᴇʀ: (ɴᴏᴜɴ) ᴍᴏʟᴇᴄᴜʟᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴜʟᴀ, ᴏɴʟʏ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴘᴀᴛɪᴀʟ ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴛᴏᴍꜱ

[skyward-floored]

Pup

I was looking through my fics since ao3 is back up, and realized I never put this one on tumblr?? A crime. But here it is now. Bapy Twi and protective Hero’s Shade Time for your reading pleasure :)

Ao3 link

————————————————————

There’s a child crying.

A sharp golden ear pricks as the sound of it flits past, soft cries interspersed with hiccups that are desperately trying to be muffled. It’s a fair distance away, the wind carrying the sound of it through the forest, and the ear’s owner glances around and twitches his other ear as the sound continues.

There shouldn’t be anyone in this part of the woods.

A frown tugs his mouth, as much as it can in the form he’s currently in. He’d felt he’d be needed soon in the land of the living, the cure for his spirit’s restlessness drawing nearer by the day, so he’d drawn closer to the kingdom he’d once been the hero of, settling into the form of a divine beast as he’d padded through the woods, waiting and watching.

And then the crying had begun.

He raises his head, his ears flicking, and listens intently, following the quiet sounds towards their origin. Brambles tug his golden fur, but he pulls his way past the thickets, certain that if his hearing wasn’t so sensitive, he likely wouldn’t have heard the child at all.

He hasn’t been walking for long when the crying abruptly goes quiet, cutting off with a fearful whimper. He freezes, sharply pricking his ears before lowering his nose to the ground instead.

He filters out the smells of the forest, ignoring the fresh plants and musky scents of other beasts, searching instead for that of a child. It takes a moment, but a soft, young scent finally wafts into his nostrils, hints of pine and soft hay spiked with fear throughout it... but there’s something else making up the scent of the child that makes him start.

A faint musk of horses, and milk too.

A scent he knows intimately.

He quickly finds the direction where the scent of the child is coming most strongly from, and takes off at an even faster pace than before. The crying had concerned him, but the absence of it worries him even further, and the realization of who this child must be has him trotting rapidly between the trees.

All of a sudden a cry rings out, sharp with fear, and he bolts, paws pounding against dirt and moss alike.

He nearly trips on the roots that stick up from the ground, and mud tries to slip him up, but he ignores them all and runs even quicker, grateful for his long, powerful legs. His fur stands on end as he suddenly enters a clearing, and the reek of monsters hits his nose, but the beasts aren’t what he focuses on.

He only has eyes for the small child huddled on the opposite side of the clearing from him.

The boy can’t be older than two, dirty brownish-blonde hair brushing his face, blue-grey eyes widened with fear. Tears shine in his eyes, and he’s trembling where he’s cornered solidly against a large tree. The sight of him is almost entirely blocked off by monsters, all with weapons drawn and malicious grins twisting their already grotesque faces even further.

But what most sets his hackles rising and a growl rumbling through his chest, is the sight of the tip of a blood-red blade pointed at the child’s neck, held by a foe the golden wolf knows well.

A Shadow.

He growls, and the shifting darkness turns, glancing towards him with a startled look in his eye. But the emotion is quickly smothered, replaced instead with an amused smirk.

“Now this is a pleasant surprise,” he remarks nonchalantly, as if he’d suddenly dropped by for tea rather than found him about to murder a young child in the middle of the woods. “You’re looking quite a bit older than last I saw you. But I suppose regret does weigh a man down, doesn’t it?”

He lets out a deeper growl in response, and the Shadow chuckles.

The darkness making him up abruptly shifts, settling into something less formless. A broad form with a pelt draped across the shoulders slips into view, a normally kind face twisted into a smirk. Tattoos glowing a faint red as bangs brush across his forehead, and the golden wolf almost takes a step back at the familiar face now looking at him.

But he checks himself, standing his ground with a snarl.

“Perhaps it was forward of me, but I went ahead and introduced myself to your descendant,” the shadow says, smiling down at the young boy he’s still pointing his sword at. The child shrinks away, and he laughs again. “I must admit, I don’t see much of a resemblance.”

He suddenly dips down and snatches the boy up by his tunic’s collar, eliciting a startled cry from the child.

“Take a good look at what you become, Link,” he says in a low voice, ignoring the boy’s struggling. “Because this will soon be a future that doesn’t exist.”

He draws his blade up again, pressing it to the child’s throat.

Link whimpers and the golden wolf grows dangerously, but he’s unable to do anything without risking his descendant’s life. There are simply too many weapons pointed his way, things that could go wrong, and the wolf darts his eye around for an opening.

“It’ll be quite fascinating to see what happens to this time period without you to save it,” the Shadow says mildly, teasing the blade closer. “Eternal Twilight sounds rather intriguing to me. I wonder what will become of Hyrule?”

He glances back at the wolf, who feels desperation start to sink into his chest.

“What do you think, Hero of Time?” the Shadow hums, and the golden wolf feels his heart clench when the red blade draws a single bead of blood from the boy’s throat. “A snap of the neck, or a sword through the chest? I’ll let you decide.”

He lets out a fearsome snarl, blood roaring in his ears.

The Hero of Twilight cannot die now, he is too important a player in future events, too important to the fate of Hyrule. He plays an integral role in history, and killing him now would damage the flow of time irreparably, both in the Twilight invasion and later in their quest to take down the Shadow.

Not to mention the fact that this is his descendant, the only living remains of his family, of his wife, of his children—

Twilight cannot die now.

The Shadow waits for him to make a move with a smug grin, certainly expecting him to try something. The wolf recognizes the look in his eyes though, and knows that if he so much as takes a step in the wrong direction his descendant will be dead before he can even think about attacking.

He glares at the Shadow as a terrified tear escapes down Link’s cheek, feet burning with the desire to get the child out of his clutches and somewhere safe. But the darkness only smiles at him, a satisfied look in his eye as his descendant continues to struggle.

It’s the look of someone who believes he’s won.

And the thing is, he likely would have too, if not for the fact that the hand of the child in his grasp suddenly begins to glow.

Blindingly.

The boy’s hand flashes, and the shadow shouts in surprise and drops him. It’s the only opening the golden wolf needs to leap forward at the nearest monster, tearing it’s throat out without any provocation. The beast lets out barely a gurgle as it falls, and the wolf leaps at another, tearing through the group that stands in his way. It doesn’t take him long to fight his way to the middle, and he leaps forward, standing protectively over his descendant.

Their Shadow hisses in anger, and the golden wolf matches it with a growl of his own, the two taking stock of each other.

He can hear Link’s heart thudding nearly out of his tiny chest behind him, and glances back at him just once, taking in the tear-stained cheeks and trickle of blood on his neck. Then he turns his attention back on his old foe, who should be long gone in this era of history.

“Obviously I should have gone after you first,” the Shadow snarls, eyes blazing. “I’ll kill you both, Hero of Time, and I’ll make you watch as I rip your descendant to pieces in front of you.”

Instead of replying, the golden wolf launches himself at the Shadow’s throat.

The movement is startling enough that his teeth connect, though not as solidly as he would’ve liked. He bites as deep into the thick, dark magic that makes up his foe as he can, ignoring the familiar visage the Shadow is still wearing, and the darkness shrieks.

He lurches backwards from him, black blood spraying down his front as he swings his sword, and the golden wolf goes to attack again despite the stinging cut now marring his cheek.

He fights with a ferocity he usually doesn’t give into, claws gouging and teeth snapping as he protects the child behind him. The Shadow is no match for one as skilled as he, even with his tricks and skills of his own, and soon the golden wolf is standing above him, shadowy form barely held together.

Black blood seeps into the forest floor, and while the golden wolf sports a few injuries himself, none are overtly dangerous. Blood trickles down his snout as he steps onto the Shadow’s chest, and he levels the darkness with a terrifying glare.

“LEAVE,” he roars, and with one last look of pure hatred, the shadows disperse, sliding back to whence they came.

The golden wolf lets out an exhausted huff, and sits down for just a moment.

He takes stock of himself, and makes sure the clearing is completely void of any more dangers before turning around to look at Link. He pads slowly over to the boy still shaking against the tree, aware that the sight of him will likely be frightening due to the fight he just witnessed. There’s blood in his fur and he’s still panting for breath, but Link merely stares at him, a few tears still rolling down his cheeks.

His blue-grey eyes, so familiar to the wolf, flit across his face, fear still bright in them. But they also shine with an odd curiosity, and wonder along with the terror.

He supposes that makes sense. Twilight always had loved dogs.

The golden wolf stops a few paces from the child, sitting down and allowing him to make the first move. After a long moment, the boy inches a little closer, and reaches out a trembling hand towards him. It alights on his muzzle, and he allows the child to run a few shaking fingers gently down his snout, which seems to convince him he’s not a threat.

The boy then launches himself at the wolf, snuggling tightly into his fur as he begins to cry again.

The golden wolf lets out a soft whine, meant to be comforting, and Link sniffles loudly as he presses his head against his neck. He seems content to stay buried in his fur a while, and the golden wolf breathes in slowly, allowing himself to once again taste the familiarity that lies in his boy’s scent.

The child doesn’t have the exact same scent as home, or even the same as when they traveled together. But it’s there, and as he gently nuzzles the tears from his cheek, that old familiarity both soothes and pains him.

“This is all natural strength!”

“I’ll uh, heh, look into getting him a proper rod...”

“Any chores that need to be taken care of? I’m familiar with farm work.”

“Oh, this means our little ones will have families of their own, and them after— oh I’m getting ahead of myself!”

“Win this fight! Show us that courage can fight in every battle!”

The child lets out a wet hiccup, and the golden wolf curls himself around him, trying to exude as much comfort as possible. The boy crying into his fur shouldn’t have to worry about monsters yet, about Shadows that attempt to destroy and kill, or the hero he’s going to someday become.

He‘s too young to have to worry about his future.

He sits curled around the boy for as long as it takes him to calm down, hiccupy sobs gradually slowing. The sniffles continue, but at some point they’re accompanied by the growling of his stomach.

The wolf pricks his ears at that, and pokes Link with his nose, making him startle a bit and raise his head. The boy wipes some tears from his eyes and looks at him with a confused expression, and the golden wolf gently pushes him towards his back, hoping the young boy will get the hint.

Link takes a minute to realize what he means, but once he does he easily clambers onto his back, still sniffling a little. The wolf feels his hands clutch at the thicker fur by his neck, and he carefully stands up, beginning to trot off through the woods again.

He knows exactly where he needs to take the boy.

The trip to his destination isn’t too far, but between making sure his charge doesn’t fall off his back, and avoiding the occasional monster that dwells in the woods, it takes longer than he’d prefer. By the time he reaches the spirit’s spring, the sun is nearly set and Link is fast asleep on his back, nestled into his fur with little breathy snores escaping him.

The sun is low in the sky, but a few orangey rays of light still shine through the trees, making the water almost glow as the wolf settles down next to it.

As he quietly waits for the boy to stir, a fairy flits by, pausing upon seeing him. She greets him with a chime, which he acknowledges with a nod, and she zips over, jingling worriedly at the injuries he and the child have sustained. He shakes his head at her to tell her not to worry about it, but she spins a few tight circles around them both anyway, and the handful of stinging wounds the golden wolf had been ignoring fade quickly away.

He gives the fairy an grateful look, and she chimes warmly as she continues on her way, disappearing into the fading light.

He watches her go, then gently slides the boy off into a soft patch of grass, pausing when he lets out a murmur in his sleep. But his descendant settles down again, and inwardly he sighs in relief. He settles in next to him to wait, and carefully licks off some of the blood that still stains his neck, going back and forth between cleaning out his fur, and trying to tidy Link up a bit too.

He doesn’t bother keeping an ear out for danger. This spring is a safe place, secure from darkness, and if he’s right about the village that lies only a few hills away, this is where Link is meant to be.

Footsteps suddenly approach from nearby, and the wolf pricks his ears as he listens to them. He gives Link’s cheek one last soft nuzzle, the boy beginning to stir, then slips away to watch from a distance, hidden in the bushes.

Right as he settles in, a young man walks into the spring, blonde hair held back with a bandana. His focus is on the open gate, fiddling with the mechanism that probably locks it once the doors are together, but then Link’s stomach lets out a loud growl.

The man startles and turns, and meets the wide eyes of Link, who is staring at him with an equally surprised look on his face. The man blinks at the sight, and releases the pommel of his sword he’d reflexively grabbed.

“A Hylian?” he murmurs to himself, obviously confused at the sight in front of him.

The man’s eyes take in the dirt coating the child seated in the grass, old tear tracks on his cheeks and dried blood speckling his front. He doesn’t outwardly react, but the wolf sees the confusion in his eyes change to outright concern, and the man gets down to a knee, giving Link a gentle look.

“Where did you come from little one?” the man asks softly, and the wolf watches as Link shrinks down and doesn’t answer, lip quivering.

The man hums, and carefully inches closer, reaching a hand out.

“It’s all right,” he reassures gently, and Link looks up at him, appearing less afraid. “I’m not going to hurt you. Are you hungry? I can get you some food, my wife is making dinner right now.”

Link hesitates, and glances back once at where the golden wolf is hidden with a worried look. He seems to consider, then finally steps closer, reaching out and taking the man’s hand. The man’s face brightens into a smile, and Link relaxes, letting himself be pulled a little closer.

The golden wolf watches in satisfaction as the man, whom he knows is named Rusl, brushes some of the dirt off Link’s face, giving him a reassuring smile.

He doesn’t know the exact tale of how Rusl ends up an adoptive father to Link; Twilight had never gone into much detail when it had come up, and he’d said before even he didn’t remember all the specifics. But he couldn’t have picked a better man to take care of his descendant if he’d tried, and despite him being unable to see it, he gives Rusl a respectful nod.

Rusl then picks up Link, gently and carefully, and settles him into his arms. Link freezes at first, but then sinks into the man’s hold, head resting tiredly on his shoulder.

“Come on little one, you’re safe now,” he says gently, and Link sniffles once, an arm wrapping tightly around Rusl’s neck. “Let’s get you inside, and get some food in you. Then we can try and figure out where you’re from.”

Rusl then stands and looks around the spring one more time, calculating gaze lingering on a paw print sunk into the sand. But it’s getting darker by the second, and nothing else appears out of place, so Rusl leaves the spring, Link tucked securely into his arms.

Time watches them go, single eye glowing silently in the twilight.

[loversgothic]

one more, this ones much shorter but i thought it was cute ^_^

this part of the song is originally intended to be a duet but i like to think its singing for gabriel... (however you can imagine it singing to anyone you like :] ) i do wish i could make them duet though.

[moeblob]

Demyx (my beloved)

[zarvasace]

They're definitely both wearing eyeliner

[lazycranberrydoodles]

MAILMAN - SOUNDGARDEN

BABYGIRL WHAT IF THE SINGLE PLANK PATH TURNED MY YOUTHFUL INNOCENCE INTO A TOXIC COCKTAIL OF HUBRIS AND MORBID RESIGNATION

yeah. follow for more of the character of all time XO

[jimmyspades]

let’s stay like this forever let’s just keep pretending

[karpachev]

they be judging 😔

[jahiera]

hello! i can't remember if you answered this in your wonderful astarion romance meta [THAT I CANNOT FIND AGAIN FOR SOME REASON...], but when he propositions us for a second time -- with the series of pick-up lines that we can cheekily call him out on -- do you think he's still in the 'i'm just trying to keep you on my side' stage, or is there maybe some interest in us beyond that?

Hello!! Ahh thank you, you might mean this one? I have another one where I broke down a separate scene so if it’s that one, I can dig for it! But!!!!

I’m currently phone-bound so I can’t grab my usual quotes screencaps BUT I DO have thoughts on that scene, so let me ramble—

for the scene you’re referencing in particular, I really do think there’s a degree of projection from the player (ie what you think this scene means for astarion and your tav is up to you) and personal interpretation for the pacing in here—so if someone else sees it differently or sees it paced differently for their tav, I can definitely get that. however, for me, this scene sort of represents this very interesting shift in the relationship, but not because astarion is developing interest, but because of how he’s acting around tav now that he knows he has tav’s interest secured.

in short: I do think this scene happens still mostly in “I’m manipulating you to keep myself safe,” territory BUT. What’s interesting is that astarion isn’t making any attempts to disguise that anymore. prior to this scene, his two potential propositions (both the one he initiates pre-goblin camp and the one that happens during the goblin party), while not necessarily “natural,” and most certainly not rooted in the first bloomings of a crush, or whatever, there’s a conscious effort to disguise his routine and, in essence, genuine seduction through appealing to Tav, trying to incite desire, etc. — he’s lying and when you know he’s lying it’s obvious, but there’s wiggle room for Tav to genuinely think, hey, this guy is interested in me. but the scene you’re referencing—“here’s my little treat with their cheeks all flushed…” “three little words. everyone’s favorite. I love you. (that would be a lie.) but a very sweet lie,” or whatever he says at the end there—descends very quickly into teasing (almost taunting) that is VERY heavy handed and very gleeful in how he almost …. dangles the falsehood of it in front of you.

there’s multiple ways you can interpret that. is he getting more egregious in his flirting because he feels like he doesn’t have to try as hard, but still TRIES? is he revealing the truth behind the facade because he’s starting, on some level, to feel comfortable enough to reveal THAT if nothing else? I’m less convinced by the second, more convinced by the first, but myyyy personal interpretation of that scene is one that kind of….. is within the romance but removed from it in terms of. I don’t think it’s about tav here, really. I think it’s about astarion.

to elaborate, I think that there’s a kind of thrill in this moment — astarion has been an object for sex and desire for 200 years, and he’s still doing that, still playing that role, but now he’s doing it without the overarching crushing influence of cazador behind him; his safety within the group is relatively secured now; there is less..... external (or perceived external) pressure to keep up the act, but he still does it. which I think results in him almost……. outright telling you that it’s false? like a kind of release, to say that the I love you is a lie, and you know that, and I know that, and I don’t have to FULLY pretend so, in his own way, he doesn't--he tugs and pulls at emotion, and kind of .... invites Tav into the lie, in a sense (thank god there's no option to say "I love you too," here, I worry that fans would take it and mean it sincerely. like. AUCK). maybe there's almost a vindictive thrill to getting to basically display his exaggeration. or maybe he's pushing at the boundaries of what tav & he have here, seeing how far he's sunk in. playing the role still, but at the end, you know it's at least partially an act. either way, poking and prodding like that, to me, isn't motivated by blooming squishy feelings. rather, it's something less sweet, less romance-y to boot, but more interesting for the character as a whole. or maybe that's just my own bias--I tend to find the Soft Squishy Romance to be the least interesting aspect OF the romantic dynamic. also, to be clear, I'm not trying to soften it up with elaboration here. taking away the context of astarion's history and past, what he's doing here is really just mean. it's a kind of cruel thing to so starkly display that you dont really give a fuck about the feelings of the person in front of you--enough to throw flirting and emotional barbs of "I love you," at them just for the laugh of it. it's a bitch move, but it's an interesting one, and I rarely see the conjunction of His Meanness discussed with how it manifests due to his history-- it makes complete sense and it's FASCINATING.

there is ONE thing I'll say, and that in the dialogue branch where you say, "Are you having fun?" or something along those lines, he says, "I am! It's hard not to, with you." and that, I do believe to be sincere, in its own way. I do think Astarion is having fun with Tav out on the road, being with them, being with the group, enjoying the show so to speak, and exploring his newfound freedom--all of which is wrapped up in proximity to Tav. there's arguments to be made that there's pacing issues here, but I actually interpreted the fact that we don't really have another romance-specific scene before the "you're wonderful"/drow confession to be intentional. to me, the trust bond with astarion isn't developed in moments where he's putting up the act or where you're expressing interest or attraction to him (he already knows, he's already removed from that, there's no trust to grow in these moments because sex/attraction is the last thing associated with trust to him), but rather, trust is reinforced over time on the road, through shows of support out and about during crucial, but NON-ROMANTIC moments (such as killing yurgir for him--a nonromantic act, but one that solidifies that he can trust you.)

all in all, after such longwindedness... I guess my answer is that. while I dont think he LOVES tav at all, and maybe he isn't even romantically there yet with them, I do think he likes Tav by this point, and enjoys their company and their presence. what that means to YOU is up to you! as I said, I think it's a scene where the pacing and emotional weight is partially up for interpretation. you can just as easily imagine that he's got unaddressed growing feelings there as you can not--especially since if you turn him down here, what he'll say is "I've gotten on my back more times than I can count [...] most of them I don't even remember. but you, I'll remember." <- possibly implying that there was the start of a potential something here, ultimately ended, which he isn't really sad about because it removes the overall pressure of putting up a show, but at the same time implies a fondness for tav the person; again, not necessarily romantically oriented, but positive emotion regardless.

[cinna-bunnie]

thinking about older women

[fortyfive-forty]

WTA 9 - 12 AS LYRICS FROM SONGS I HAVE SAVED [1 - 4] [5 - 8] [INSP]

MARIA SAKKARI [GRE] -> GAVE YOU EVERYTHING [THE INTERRUPTERS] JEĻENA OSTAPENKO [LAT] -> SO WHAT [P!NK] KAROLÍNA MUCHOVÁ [CZE] -> A BEGINNING SONG [THE DECEMBERISTS] DARIA KASATKINA [RUS] -> LIGHT MY LOVE [GRETA VAN FLEET]