#but oh so touch starved

[starsetven]

This is vital, CRUCIAL EVEN, to thr future of our happiness. Our love. The security of all that is GOOD.

How does Link feel about Legend of Zelda? Will he tolerate me going "hyaa! Zyaaa!! ZIYAAAA!" at him?

How about when I need his attention I go "HEY! LISTEN!"

Or if he had a shit day, I put my hand on his shoulder solemnly, I regard him with dark eyes and ask "you've met with a terrible fate haven't you?"

I MUST KNOW

Link would purchase a copy to play horribly for your sake. :3c

He’d find your quoting confusing at first, link would genuinely not understand the references- though he’d familiarize himself, so he’d be caught up for the next hYaH.

He’ll indulge your quoting- finding ways to keep you talking. Link may not always understand your references, but he’s elated to see you enjoying yourself to the fullest <3

But anytime You were touching him, he’d be over the moon.

This small action will definitely be overlooked and taken to heart- he’s probably more fixated on the feeling of your hand on his shoulder, rather than registering what you said

touching link would have him daydreaming specific detailed scenarios…

[dirtflunk]

th unsettling knights r kissing in the dungeon, m'lord.

[solargeist]

I don’t think Angel wings are sensitive like bird wings, but if someone preens Grian’s wings he gets sleepy and will fall asleep under the right circumstances

Not an angel thing, just purely a Grian thing

[hawkeyeslaughter]

not to be like dramatic or anything but trapper john calling me ‘ honey ‘ to comfort me would heal every single thing wrong

[asukiess]

adrien casually touching marinette’s hands and forearms is something that just gets me. so bad. it’s so tender and just for them and they haven’t even had their first proper kiss yet!!! but they can hold each other. comfort each other.

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Asking

(Masterlist)

delta asks for something (yay!)

its not good (noooo!!!!)

set in between the massacre at lemuria and the assassination attempt at thales. brief but critical period in which delta is starting to have doubts and paris is (relatively) chilled out.

(Content: living weapon whumpee, mass death, descriptions of gore, nightmares, guilt, self loathing, attempted self harm, implied physical abuse, verbal abuse, comfort???)

===================

It had been a glorious day for Empire — and an exceptionally terrible day for Delta. It was not that today’s attack had been particularly brutal or challenging. It was practically indistinguishable from the others he’d carried out this month. It had gone smoothly.

It was the second sight that had gone haywire. It did that sometimes. Delta’s powers had always been unpredictable to a certain extent — not in their output, but in the way they affected him. The more he fixated on what he did not want to happen, the more likely it would. Today had been one of those times. As soon as the collar clicked off, he was able to see. Truly see, not just with the strange psychic feelers and the sixth sense they gave him. He could see everything in the target radius. From a mile away, he could see straight inside the planetary base. He got a very good look at the lives he was about to destroy. He was forced to keep looking for as long as the collar was off. He watched as their skin curled up and crisped from the heat of the blast, watched as their blood boiled, watched as it all gave way to dust. 

He’d crashed out as soon as it was over. It wasn’t dignified; he’d fallen asleep right in the transit. It was emotional exhaustion more than it was the typical psychic fatigue. Still, his handlers had allowed him to sleep it off for the rest of the day. It was a small reward for having executed the kill so cleanly. He gratefully accepted, climbing back into bed at the first opportunity. 

They were some of the worst nightmares Delta had ever had. He woke up drenched, unable to bring his own breathing back under control. He stumbled into the shower. The cold water helped to pull him out of the half-asleep state, but did nothing to remove the deep dread in his chest. He still saw it every time he closed his eyes. His own violence. His own power. His.

There was no chance of falling back asleep. He redressed in loose clothing, still desperate to cool down. He’d need to change the sheets at some point; they were still slick with sweat and occasionally blood. He didn’t have the energy to do it just yet. He stumbled out of his room, relieved to find the common areas of the ship mostly empty. It was a week night. 

He leaned his head against one of the ship’s large windows. There were no planets clearly visible. Just stars. He always preferred it that way. 

He needed to do something about it. Guilt was such a fresh emotion to him, newer than even empathy had been. It hurt so severely he almost couldn’t breathe. Not as bad as it would hurt to burn or to boil or to evaporate, to have your limbs severed and cauterized, to die fast or die slow. No, Delta would never hurt the way they did. He’d never even get close. 

He had only been free roaming, without any particular destination in mind. The Thorn was large enough to allow for that kind of thing. Still, his thoughts drifted darker, and his body seemed to accommodate them without any conscious effort on his part. Or maybe it was just muscle memory.

He knocked softly.

“Whaaaaaat?” Paris’s voice came through the door, already annoyed.

Delta slowly pushed it open, sliding through the gap. Paris was still up. To Delta’s surprise, he was sober. The morning’s hangover had been worse than usual; it must have had some kind of tempering influence. Paris glanced up from the computer screen.

“Oh. What do you want?” Paris leaned back in the chair, seeming to relax a little. Delta hesitated at the threshold. He pushed the door shut, starting to cross the room.

“Stop,” Paris said. When Delta stilled, he spoke again, “What is it?”

Delta’s voice came out low, totally inaudible. He hadn’t meant it too. He’d just frozen up.

“I can’t hear you,” Paris rolled his eyes, clearly losing his patience.

“Can you hit me?” Delta repeated.

Paris’s eyes narrowed. He tilted his head, gesturing to the spot on the carpet beside his chair. Delta moved to kneel. He was pretty sure an indentation was forming there.

“What did you do?” Paris’s tone was heavy with suspicion, not a small amount of worry. Delta lost his voice again, totally lost his nerve. He knew what he had done. Killed, again. The men and the women and the children and the animals. The soil that would never grow life again. A thousand times over.

“Delta, what did you do?” Paris gripped his hair, pulling his head back to force eye contact. His voice had an edge of panic to it. He was expecting the worst. Delta winced. This was a stupid idea.

“Nothing. I’m sorry.” Delta said. He bit down on his tongue, keeping himself from what he’d wanted to say. Do you really need a reason?

Paris released his grip on his hair, letting Delta’s head fall back into a bow. He made a small, irritated sound.

“Can you stop wasting my fucking time?” He turned back to the computer. The panic left him. He believed it was nothing; Delta so rarely lied.

Delta stayed kneeling, keenly aware that Paris had not told him to leave. Minutes passed with only the sound of the keyboard’s clicking filling the room. Delta had to make a concentrated effort not to start crying. There wasn’t any release, nothing redemptive. He didn’t want to be hurt. He couldn’t stand the thought of it not happening. He was so tired.

It was a stupid idea. He pressed his forehead against Paris’s knee. The typing stopped. There was no sound at all for several seconds.

“God, you’re the fucking worst. You know that?” Paris’s hand touched against his hair again. It was much gentler this time. He brushed it back, smoothing out the mess from where he’d just disturbed it.

“I know,” Delta agreed for his own secret reasons.

The typing started up again, much slower this time. It had to be one-handed. The other pet through Delta’s hair — absent, soft, clumsy — as if touch was foreign to it.

[taste-thewaste]

Hi! Are you still doing the ficlets? If not disregard this.

“not that i think cuddling will fix everything, but i’m pretty sure it can’t make things worse.” for taynick or firstprince (whichever tickles your fancy). Thanks!

Hi anon! Yes I'm still doing them, sorry I didn't get this done last night but I was a little sleepy. Going for taynick on this one because it's what popped out to me. I've kind of ~explored~ this before but idk I'm feeling soft nick and tay right now and I just know based on interviews that Nick is self conscious and I think taylor would comfort him. idk i hope no one crucifies me for this one lol. enjoy!

Taylor comes home from a workout covered in sweat, as always, and reaches for a protein shake in the fridge. "Nick?" he calls, "are you here?" Sometimes Nick goes to the market or to get a coffee while he's doing a workout, or does a workout of his own. "I'm gonna make breakfast, what do you want?" "I'm fine," Nick's voice drifts in from the other room, but it's thin and tiny and Taylor can tell right away that he's not fine. He finishes his shake and then goes to find him. Nick's sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone, his eyes trained on the small screen, his knees drawn to his chest. "Hey. What do you want for breakfast?" "I said I'm fine," Nick mumbles as he keeps scrolling. Taylor nods slowly and walks around the back of the couch to spy over his shoulder. Nick closes out the app as quickly as he can, but not before Taylor sees that he's looking at photos from a recent Fendi shoot. "Ah, didn't know you were busy checking out how good you look, my apologies," Taylor says teasingly, dropping a kiss on top of Nick's now-garishly blonde hair. They both hate it, but it's for the sheep movie, so he has to. "I look awful," Nick says, pulling the photos back up and shoving the phone in Taylor's direction. Taylor scrolls through them for a moment. "Babe, we've been over this. They put you in the worst outfits imaginable. It's not your fault."

"Not the clothes, Taylor, me," Nick says despondently, and Taylor looks down at him. He looks truly miserable. "I'm all...squishy." "Hey," Taylor says, coming around and sitting next to him on the couch. "You look incredible, terrible clothes and all. Squishy and all." Nick looks down. "Easy for you to say." Taylor sighs. They aren't going to solve this in one day. Nick's had body image issues his entire life, or so he's told Taylor, and one affirmative statement from his boyfriend isn't going to fix it. He reaches out and tugs Nick close until he's sitting in his lap, wraps his long arms around him and cuddles him tightly. "Not that I think cuddling will fix everything, but I'm pretty sure it can't make things worse," Taylor says, kissing Nick's temple. Nick sighs in contented defeat. "You're right about that, I suppose," Nick says, and closes his eyes, trying to shove his insecurities from his mind. For now, he has this, and for now, it's enough.

[prodigaldaughteralice]

tonight I’m thinking about how in practically every one of ND’s drawings of Ambrosius and Ballister as young knights/squires, they’re absolutely all over each other. Arms around shoulders, head in lap, Ambrosius jumping onto Ballister’s back or looking over his shoulder at a desk by plastering himself to him. Hands in hair and on waists.

and then thinking about how strange it must be to go from having that all the time to being completely alone

[thatmaxcontent]

Modern AU Sanuso in a semi-real world? Sign me up :)

[AU RAMBLES DOWN BELOW! Not proof-read in the slightest :D]

They're married and live together with their three dogs. Sanji started his restaurant at 24, living in a small apartment with his then boyfriend Usopp. The other had been doing jobs on and off before he started working on a passion project with saved money. They were pretty broke, up until an ad-campaign Usopp animated for the All Blue restaurant blew up with teenagers and young adults, leading to great growth and success for both the restaurant and Usopp's online store.

The All Blue restaurant expanded, but Sanji didn't open any new locations. From just a restaurant it turned into a hotel, still focused on its food with other services holding up well. The interior had been designed by Usopp, as well as the exterior, according to Sanji's wishes. On the location's 20-year anniversary Usopp and Sanji hosted an event where they told the humble beginnings of the restaurant, bringing in Sanji's adoptive father Zeff to give gratitude to the man who inspired it all. Day and night alike the event was wonderful. Once the married couple reached their comfortable home Sanji allowed his emotions to flow as he fell asleep in Usopp's arms, crying tears of gratitude and giddily joyful disbelief as Onion, Pepper and Carrot (their dogs) cuddled up with them.

Whenever Sanji takes days off and leaves the restaurant in charge of his trusty right hand woman, Pudding, he makes sure to rest himself body to mind. Usopp doesn't have that priviledge, as their home is his working place.

It was only in their thirties that Sanji really realised how much Usopp did around the house, being a stay-at-home worker and all. Every corner was always clean, clothes were washed, fridge and freezer were stocked with ingredients and necessities, dogs were fed, happy, walked and bathed, everything was always in order no matter how it seemed before. It was a norm, but one day as Sanji returned home the house was a little more unkept than usual. This was because Usopp, hard as he tried, could not get out of bed for the first time since teenagehood. From that day on Sanji, who got used to their perfect house, started truly appreciating who made it perfect for them all. He tried to pull Usopp to relax with him whenever he took his days off, realising quite fast the artist couldn't lay back no matter what. Always stiff, aware and awake.

Some time after that realisation Sanji took off a month, something he did a lot of arrangements and work for to make it happen. He convinced Usopp to take that month off as well, after almost a day of debating he finally gave up as they fell asleep on their bed together. Half of that month they traveled to France, to Sanji's hometown to stay at Zeff's. The other half they spent in Thailand, trying out new things and enjoying their time. They were supposed to go visit Usopp's hometown in his home country, but he really didn't want that so instead they visited a destination recommended by a friend and frequent traveler, Nami. After this vacation they returned home, and next time Sanji was talking Usopp into taking a day off with him it didn't take long for a short cuddle-session to start.

Usopp takes commissions every now and then, but mostly he animates shorts and passion projects. He sells his creations, artwork and tailored fashion online, he is also an author as a simple hobby with some published books. He is very often stressed, even though he works for himself he doesn't take kindly to free-time. Whenever he manages to relax, if ever, he prefers a plate of Karelian pies with some egg-butter on top to be by his side as he binges a show. Chugging water and pear juice, he thinks about fresh stories and new projects even while he's supposed to be laying back. The only things that can truly make him rest his mind are Carrot, Pepper and Onion spending time with him and Sanji being his silly Sanji self (which Usopp finds unbearably sexy in a non-sexual way for some reason).

Even though they've been married for 23 years (Sanji at 50 and Usopp at 48) the only thing that's changed is majority of their priority list. It's no longer "I want to spend all my time with you", rather "I want to savor and love you for each moment I have you". They have their own lives, own groups, own events, own plans, but the smallest things will make them get all lovey-dovey with each other.

"Starboy, did you vaccuum the mats?" Sanji would ask, and the moment Usopp replies; "Yeah, I found some spare time.", the older will be with his arms lovingly placed around the younger, drowning him in light cheek-kisses and sweet whispered nothings.

"Loverboy, did you buy this potted plant?" Usopp would inquire, and the moment Sanji replies; "Yes, I thought it could fill the place of the former one.", he is already watching as the artist cares for the plant before giving the cook a long kiss of gratitude.

They met at a vocational school in Finland, where Usopp was a second-yearer at 17/18 and Sanji a first-yearer at 19/20. Sanji studied at the Restaurant-Catering side, while Usopp was forwarding Art studies. Sanji graduated in two and a half years while Usopp had to stay up until four. It was at the end of Sanji's second year that he confessed to Usopp, he wanted to seem cool and romantic but instead stumbled on his words while they were spending time at a mall. They had both moved into Usopp's own apartment at around Sanji's first year, but now as they both returned it was different. Their dumb nicknames weren't so dumb anymore, but seeing one another naked was still as awkward (and uncomfortable for Usopp) as ever. Even so they felt comfortable enough to sleep next to each other that night (in the literal sense, nothing more 👽).

Sanji is in contact with his siblings, who were also adopted by Zeff, to this day. Usopp sometimes looks at old videos of his biological father's, Yasopp's, Olympic Records and other sports performances. Though he keeps a picture of both an archery and sharp-shooting record Yasopp still holds the gleam in his eyes isn't exactly happy whenever that unfamiliar face enters his vision.

I love these two very dearly :) almost as dearly as they love each other 💕✌️👽✨️

[carlyraejepsans]

Do you think the Exiled Queen ending implies that Sans and Toriel are in a relationship? Sans calls her "roommate" but the Ruins' rooms have one bed each, meaning they sleep together in the same bed. Maybe is the terminal Soriel brain I dunno lol

as much as i love exiled queen ending soriel with the passion of christ himself, i always assumed toriel just... finished fixing up that "room under renovations" next to her own, and that's where sans puts his stuff. they don't have to Literally share the same room to be roommates lol. so, as far as authorial intent is concerned, I don't think soriel is canon canon in that ending.

if EYE were in charge of course the room wouldn't be ready to use from day one, so they have to share in the meantime, and when the renovations are finally done (they take longer than expected, wonder why) they meet each other halfway through the hallway because they didn't feel like being alone again :]

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

Chat is it normal to let bees land on you and stay perfectly still while they crawl around

…is it normal for bees to land on a person in the first place

[fvedyetor]

.

[asillydreamer-on-a-crazyworld]

Alan screams Gentle dom energy to me and no one can change my mind about that.😌

[cherry-pop-elf]

Happy Birthday To We

George Weasley x Reader

It’s April 1st. The busiest day of the year, and most traumatic. You figured to steal your husband away, and have a nice little picnic. You, your son, George, and of course…. Fred

Warnings: Grief, Mourning, Talks of self harm, suicidal ideology, hurt comfort, wizarding war angst, lots of angst, dead Fred, Umbridge, hopeful ending ((because reading a story that starts sad and ends sad can be frustration. Spoliery? Kinda, but hey. Heavy topic story with an actual pay off? You deserve it))

“You gotta eat, young man-!” You tsked, but smiled. You knew he went heavy with work. Especially today of all days. April 1st. Not only the busiest day of the year, but also the day of his birthday. A birthday he was no longer able to share. So, he would try and drown himself in work. Make his mind so numb, he can’t feel anything.

“I will I will, after I-“ He tried to excuse, but you waved your wand. Having the box he was carrying quickly be sent into the shelf. He held his hands in mock defeat, as you smiled in victory. You won this round.

“Good boy! I made us a picnic basket and everything! Junior would love some fresh air with you too.” You smiled, as he couldn’t say no to that. A picnic, with his family? How could he resist? Fresh air, fresh food, and his little baby boy? You staked his heart, and he was at your mercy.

“Alright alright. Let me transfer my notes, and schedule, to Lee-“ That had you giddy. Hell yeah, you won this round. That had you proud, as you watched him go and find that good friend of his.

Meanwhile, you were quick to run to the back of the shop. Up the stairs, and into the flats above. Specifically the one where Fleur was, given Bill worked at Gringotts again. Ever since Fred passed, Bill figured being closer to family was wise. Fleur was already packing their bags, the moment he suggested the idea. A Weasley indeed.

“Thanks for baby sitting, the place gets so swamped-“ You wheezes, before you picked up your little boy from the Veela. Those beautiful ginger curls danced in his face, as he reached out for you. Little chubby fingers eager to touch your face. You happily allowed, as Fleur made sure to remind you he should eat soon.

With him safe in his sling, the picnic basket grabbed, you would wait outside of the shop. That way Junior wouldn’t get overstimulated. Was just you, and him. You playing with him, as he babbled away. Your eyes, and his hair. He was just perfect. You loved him so much, and so did George.

George was just enjoying the view. Watching you play with his son. How little Freddy was eager for your attention, and you happily gave it to him. With kisses, and tickles to his tummy. Made him gurgle and squeal so happily. Seeing all that just helped heal him. Like all that pain from the war was worth it. It wasn’t for nothing. Nothing at all.

“My family.” He sighed, as he would be by your side. The way Freddy’s eyes lit up made you want to cry. He was so happy to see his daddy. Out of his work suit, his dress shirt, and tie. Actually enjoying the fresh air on his skin. So many scars, so much ink. So much to his skin, it’s hard to tell the self inflected apart from the war torn. You knew, but you were happy to see them healed over. Finally.

Without another worrying thought, he aparated you three off. There again, to a oh so familiar place. Familiar, and painful, place. One memorized to its core, for George. Even the very ground was indented from his endless visits. The wind seemed to be aware of his presence, and blew. Cooling down the anxiety in his soul.

Across the worn down paths, with the scent of freshly laid flowers next to them. Little Freddy, ever curious, would cooe at all the pretty flowers. Laid for those who have long passed on. You wondered if this was healthy for Freddy. To be exposed to such things so young, but maybe understanding such could be helpful. You would worry about it later, now was the time to see him. See Fred.

His grave was well taken care of. George visits at least once a week, and it was quick to be realized that by the masses. That meant that not only were offerings left for Fred, but George as well. Such as something George had come to love the most.

The grave was that of the familiar W, with its star, and said star would have a little purple and orange beaded bracelet on it. A friendship bracelet, that Luna made. That way the twins could still be twinning, even beyond the grave. Never was there a day you ever saw George without his, and no storm seemed to be able to blow it off the stone. You were surprised no cruel soul tried to steal it, but then again who would want to steal from a prankster who was friends with Peeves?

“Oh, someone seems to need some tummy time.” You giggled, as Freddy was fighting to get free. George was quick to lay the blanket over the grave of Fred, and you were careful in setting Junior down. He was much happier, as he rolled around. Giggling, as he looked up at the cloudy blue sky. Fascinated by the clouds.

While George set up the picnic, and you made sure Freddy didn’t roll into someone’s grave, you have a sight. Reading over the engraving, after moving the endless presents and flowers aside.

Here lies Fredrick Fabian Weasley. Brother, Twin, Son, Friend, Inventor, Prankster, Hero. Your sacrifice promised happiness to endless. Rest In Peace. Mischief.

When the day comes, Mischief will be managed. One day. Maybe times, you thought that day was soon. As soon as Voldemort died even. Not even a chance to get off Hogwarts grounds, did George’s attempts at his life started. You hated how creative he was with it. You couldn’t understand how each one failed. Deep down, you could only imagine it was Fred. Fred, even beyond the grave, found a way to protect George. No ghost needed.

“And I thought I would be the once to space out-“ He snorted, alerting your attention. How embarrassing, but at least you had George there. Funny how he was the one to keep you grounded, right now. Suppose little Junior helps him as well. How his chubby little fingers poked at the stone.

“Ed-!” Junior spoke. “That’s right. Fred. You are named after him.” George encouraged. They say having a kid doesn’t fix all your problems. They are right, but George Weasley was never one for conventional norms. Sure solved alot of his. How he wasn’t bursting into tears was a mystery. Today was such a hard day, yet….Here he was.

“Come here, ya little bugga. You gotta eat, yeah? Ya like grapes don’t ya? Just like yer uncle Fred.” As George said that, you could see the pain in his eyes. He was happy, but it was bitter sweet. One Fred for another. The wound will never truly heal, but to say you weren’t proud of how far he came? A total lie.

You would soon rest your head on George’s, and watched him feed your son. Eyes glancing to the many scars on his inner arms. Burns, self harm, battles, and of course the many faded words of Umbridge. You could hardly see the words, but knew them well. How they were forced to write different words, so that they could never be identical again.

No, you had to fight those memories. If you were thinking them, Merlin knows what George was thinking. You fought your tears, so that he knew he wasn’t alone. Seemed to be what he needed, as he leaned his head on yours. Bandaged fingers gentle in cleaning your little boys face.

“I miss him, so much. It hurts, but I guess it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. Does that make me a bad person?” That caught you off guard, as George would play with Junior. Tickling his nose, and making him squeal. As if on auto pilot. Make everyone else happy, not yourself.

You had to sit on that, for a moment, as you looked at the grave. How well taken care of it was. George made sure it stayed such, and you would safely assume others did as well. Seeing that made it clear. So, you kissed his cheek.

“No, you aren’t. If anything, it makes you a better person. We all heal differently, sweetie. What better way to honor Fred, then allowing yourself some joy. Maybe…..Maybe you’ll cast a patrnous again.” Hearing that made George wonder.

With a wand drawn, he looked it over. To his wand, you, Junior, and Fred’s grave. A thought crossed his mind, and breathed. As gentle as the wind in the air, he whispered the incantation.

It was weak, but something was there. A whisper of hope, as the light swirled around Freddy’s fingers. Utter enchainment was in those big eyes, as George’s eyes watered. Spilling down his cheeks, as he smiled. It hurt to remember those happy memories with Fred, but at the same time it felt so good.

You held George tightly, beyond words of proud, as he kissed his cheek again. He was healing, and he was living. Living, not just surviving. Oh you had to rub your eyes to fight the tears. You were so happy.

When your eyes cleared, you blinked. With George busy with Junior, you noticed something. A beautiful bird, standing on the star of the stone. Such beautiful purple hue to its black feathers. Looked so curious, as its beak poked the bracelet. When that moment passed, it looked at you both. Watching, before it flew off. Leaving behind a single feather in its wake.

“A magpie feather. Say, we could turn this into something for Freddy. Like a training quill, since it’s so small.” With your tears falling down your cheeks, you nodded at what George said. What a lovely gift for Freddy. What a wonderful Birthday present…..for Fred.

[moe-broey]

Some. Sort of spectrum. From most likely to least likely.

And by kitten-pile I mean This

I'll put a transcript under cut for easier reading! 🫡

How Likely Are They to Kitten Pile?

__

Mirabilis: "are you tired..? do you need a break...? ohh we could take one together..."

If she likes/trusts you even a little, she wants to cuddle about it!!!

-

Sharena and Peony: "Okay! 💖 Yay! 💖"

Shari: The only thing stopping her is social conventions -- making her MORE likely to jump at the opportunity!

Peony: Learning social awareness as she goes, and is surprisingly good at it?

-

Triandra: "Aren't we a bit old for that...? But... even so..."

Embarrassed, conflicted, but feels strangely nostalgic at the notion...

-

Plumeria: "I'm not so petal-soft that I'd resort to such INDECENCY, I mean even if your intentions are Pure USE YOUR HEADS YOU FOOLS!! Girl, the IMPLICATIONS!!!"

Desperately wants to join the kitten-pile, but her Issues and Pride gets in the way.

-

Moe: "aw, so cutes!"

Generally touch adverse, extremely picky even with the people it likes/loves -- everything is entirely on its terms.

[catgirl-yeji]

neck kisses. you agree. you reblog.