This is what happens when you ignore footballers instagrams for a year
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❛ I hope for God’s sake you know what you’re doing. ❜
Gentle shrug accompanies the half-drunk grin from which words form themselves, thumbs brushing over intertwined knuckles.
“ do I ever ? “
from : [X] (closed)
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But it wouldn’t help. If the bear wanted her, it would climb right up the tree after her!
Before I knew what I was doing, I tightened my grip on the reins and urged the mare forward. “Giddap! Hah! Hah!”
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are you serotonin? 🌈✨ because you make me happy🌈✨🌹🌠🎊
wha- OHMYGOD dude you're too sweet stahp
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I'm glad I already queued Chasing Butterflies to post on Saturday bc I'm getting real itchy about it and want to just post it now
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Chile will win another copa America y’all just watch
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Dick, who do you think everyone is, then?
I know you asked Dick, but here are my top secret theories:
Dick is Babs
Damian is Jason
Babs is Duke
Jason is Stephanie
Tim is Tim
Duke is Dick
Stephanie is Cass
Cass is Damian
Batman is Alfred
-Jay❤️
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dalish clans were said to be cruel, if not deadly, to outsiders. they were, with good reason, wary of strangers, packing up their aravels and leaving their campsites as soon as humans were spotted, lest they lose what little they had left--but travelling at lyna's side showed him a side of them that he remembered, briefly, from what little time he had spent with a clan in his youth. there was something that clutched painfully at his heart when he saw the way lyna's face brightened when she saw other dalish elves. they didn't look the same as zathrian's clan, and definitely not like her clan. their vallaslin was just a bit different, the curves and flowing lines recognizable but changed minutely. their clothes were different, light and loose to fight the antivan heat, cloth wrapped around their heads and legs, but--and here’s the kicker--they still didn't wear shoes.
there was a bitterness on his tongue when lyna, so averse to touch, allowed the keeper to tip her chin up, cradle her head with her hands, when lyna laughed at something the keeper said in elvish, too quickly for him to catch it. she was at home here, among people she didn't even know. they knew her, of course, but he thought: even if they had not, they would've welcomed her with open arms, a daughter of their people with sylaise's markings tattooed proudly on her face.
and she would've walked into their embrace, heart light and head held high. what did it feel like, he wondered, to know that there was somewhere you belonged? and then, he wondered, why his mother would have ever left this for the life of a woodcutter’s wife.
and why lyna had left it for him.
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