#language as connection

[captaingimpy]

Thoughts on Media: Why I Can’t Do Anything Else

Hey everyone, originally I had a review of grotesquerie planned for today. But I ran across a YouTube video that really hit on something for me personally. And, with that, I had a very intimate realization about myself. And it was something that for a long time I could never articulate to myself nor anyone else, so I kind of wanted to take the opportunity to share the video itself with you, allow…

[bizarrelittlemew]

i can't wait to be 30+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 40+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 50+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 60+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 70+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 80+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 90+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to look back on my life and know that i loved things deeply and passionately and was inspired to create and was part of communities with incredible people from all over the world brought together by the stories that touched us

[apas-95]

When someone from europe or a peripheral capitalist state does the whole 'oh police violence and repression aren't a problem here that's just a USA thing' song and dance, it's obviously bullshit - the oppositional nature between the enforcers of the ruling class and the classes they rule over is fairly fundamental to the existence of any state - but it would be a lot easier to countermand if usamericans weren't so utterly provincial.

The character of the bourgeois police in, for example, Kazakhstan, is genuinely different than that of the US police, and cannot be neatly understood through just seeing it as a variation on the latter. A more broad, theoretical understanding of policing in general applies to both, but an empiricist understanding of a federal security apparatus descended from British-imperial slave patrols just plainly will not transfer to a unitary state's police force made to replace a workers' militia.

This applies to everything, really - the racial and ethnic dynamics of a given place outside the USA are going to be fundamentally and qualitatively different than those of the USA, and the refusal, of usamericans who have learned, empirically, about the nature of anglo settler-colonial white supremacy, to then develop a deeper and broader theoretical understanding of how systems of racial and ethnic oppression are developed - rather than saying 'its crazy that serbs and croats could hate each other when they're both White, shrimp racism lol' and the like - makes it more difficult, not less, to meaningfully oppose it when someone says 'racism isn't a problem in my country, just the USA', especially when the only response given is regarding supposed oppression of racial categories that may well not exist in that context.

This is, incidentally, why the whole 'I don't need theory, I have lived experience' tripe is wholly insufficient for the real world. You do not have enough experience, and you are going to encounter novel scenarios where mindlessly applying learned dynamics by rote will lead to entirely confident wrong answers. It's not good enough. The world is a lot bigger than you.

[genderkoolaid]

european italians when italian americans have their own pronunciations & spellings because we are a linguistically isolated diaspora & most of our families spoke regional dialects instead of standard italian when they immigrated anyways:

[stoneshipper]

when I first started self-shipping: maybe this character would like me back. we’re sorta dating. oh, and maybe I’d be friends with this character? they might find me annoying…

me now: this character would always have my back. we’re friends until the end of the line. multiple characters have unrequited crushes on me. my f/o has dedication to me like no one’s seen before. we’re madly in love. we’re best friends. we’re soulmates. it’s even deeper than that.

[leafatlaw]

Me watching parkour civilization for the 1st time: 'The book was written in parkour' thats so funny, sure this series is a little silly but its got alot of funny moments even with all the vine booms :)

Me, another watch through and two weeks later: See everybody gets the capitalism metaphor in prkciv but- what most people dont realize is that it goes beyond that: the prison industrial complex. See, the people in parkour prison are forced to parkour not only for food but constantly and in many difficult ways. AND because we know that parkour operates as a form of currency in this world, the prisoners are being forced to do something that should result in them being paid, for nothing ! Which bares resemblance to how in the real world, privately owned prisons are able to make a profit by---

[mobius-m-mobius]

I think there's a real charm - We love playing the argument, because they kind of, they recognize each other and they see each other but it's all about working together.

LOKI APPRECIATION WEEK 2023 | for @dailyloki Day 3 : Favorite Dynamic : Lokius + bickering

[dumblr]

[farfaras]

Part 2.

What if Eddie moved on from thinking Steve and Nancy should get back together when Jonathan came back and saw how they’re actually destined to be together even tho they still have shit to figure out.

I know it’s a popular hc that Eddie and Robin clock each other immediately BUT I still think that as two queer kids in a small backwards town they’re more worried about no one finding out about them so they wouldn’t notice someone else. So worried about themselves that they (like straight people) also fall into the mindset of ‘everyone is straight until proven otherwise’.

What’s the result of this? Eddie seeing how close Robin and Steve are and thinking there must be something there. And because Steve is a little more affectionate than Robin, now Eddie thinks he’s pining after her.

“Why aren’t you and Robin together?”

“It’s not like that. She’s my best friend.”

“I don’t buy it.”

So now Steve has to put up with Eddie constantly going on about how Steve should just ask her out already, what’s he waiting for, she probably likes him back.

It bothers Steve to no end. He wished society had advanced enough to realize that men and women can be platonic friends without having to explain themselves.

A nightmare.

And Steve would never out Robin, so telling him the truth wasn’t an option. And he really wasn’t interested in dating anyone right now, so that was out of the question. What could he do to get Eddie to understand that him and Robin would never happen?

Then he remembered. It seemed so distant but Steve actually tried to tell Robin he liked her once. It was kinda embarrassing to think about now, specially because he saw Robin as nothing more than a friend now. He couldn’t even remember what having a crush on her ever felt like. And maybe he never even had one, shitty friends and shitty parents maybe warped his perception and then he couldn’t see the difference between platonic and romantic feelings. Well, that was for another day. He could tell the difference now. He thinks.

He could just tell Eddie about that moment in starcourt. He would just leave out the part about Robin having absolutely bad taste in girls. Foolproof. Eddie would leave it alone now.

“What? She just rejected you and then you decided to become her best friend?” He looked surprised, like the idea was impossible to understand.

“And I don’t regret it. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“You’re crazy.” Steve didn’t expect that.

“What do you mean?”

Eddie looked at him and his expression was hard to read. “You’re telling me that after being rejected you didn’t need time away? Just jumped to being a platonic friend? Despite your feelings?” He scoffed. “I could never do that.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

“Now I know you’re lying. You still like her?”

Steve really tried to convince Eddie that he didn’t like Robin anymore. But no matter what he would say he didn’t believe him.

So Steve gave up.

Now he goes along with it. It’s easier. It stopped Eddie from trying to set them up or whatever.

Except it didn’t.

Now Eddie came up with the absolute great idea of making her jealous. Which was so so ridiculous Steve had to hold back laughter. He didn’t mention how much Robin had heard about past dates. This was beginning to amuse him just a little bit.

“How would I even do that?” Steve asked, curious as to what Eddie would come up with.

“You know? Let me think about this.” He made a show of putting his hand on his chin, contemplating. “Show up at work with some marks on you neck. You know, see how she reacts to that knowledge.” Steve knows how Robin reacts to that. Before Vecna, on his endless quest to find ‘the one’ (what a waste) he had some hookups. One time he went into work with one or two hickeys on his neck. Robin wouldn’t even bat her eyes, just would ask ‘who was it now?’ and then ask if he would see her again. The answer was no. Eddie didn’t know this.

“Yeah well, I really don’t feel like going on a date and hooking up with someone just to use it to bait a reaction. Seems kinda cruel to the other person.” Steve thinks that should be enough to shut this idea down.

“Huh. Maybe you’re better than me because I didn’t even think about that.”

Steve doesn’t reply, just snorts. And he thinks that’s gonna be the end of it. There’s nothing else Eddie can really do or come up with. Right?

Wrong.

“I could do it.” Did Steve hear that right? Huh?

“What?” Steve asked.

“Give you a hickey. It’s no big deal, really.”

If you asked Steve why he said yes. Man, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. He really doesn’t know! It’s like someone possessed him and he was moving his mouth, but it wasn’t him. Maybe it was because he couldn’t come up with a reason not to do it fast enough that would convince Eddie.

They were both sitting on the couch so Eddie just leaned in and started on a spot on the left side of his neck. Steve’s hand instinctively moved to the back of Eddie’s head. One wouldn’t think so based on its appearance but Eddie’s hair was surprisingly soft.

Suddenly there were teeth scraping his neck. Steve let out a noise that he hadn’t heard before. He accidentally pulled a little on Eddie’s hair, he was gonna apologize but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, he just hummed.

“Did you just bite me?”

Eddie pulled back and sneered. “Sorry. I let my impulsive thoughts win.” What does that even mean?

Steve was gonna ask if that did it but then Eddie moved to his lap, straddling him. “What are you doing?”

“Getting the other side?” Makes sense? Honestly his mind was getting a little mushy and was only focusing on Eddie’s weight on him. When Eddie leaned in again, Steve’s hands traveled to rest on his hips. Eddie’s on his shoulders to have leverage, his hips hovering now.

Steve tipped his head back to give him a little more space. With more space Eddie seemed to be satisfied with that spot and moved lower, however this next one was sensitive to Steve, he’s always known that. He was gonna say so but he couldn’t, Eddie was already on it. He let out a breathy sound and gripped Eddie’s hips tighter making him slam back on his lap. He thinks Eddie moaned, he’s not sure tho. “Sorry.” He muttered.

He didn’t think he’d enjoy this.

He did.

Maybe he should put a stop to it.

He hasn’t so far.

It went on a little longer. Some hands wandering. Some sounds uttered. Minds getting floaty.

He knew it was coming to an end when Eddie started leaving kisses to soothe the spots, he trailed until he got to his ear. Which he actually licked. It was probably to make a joke but it only made Steve shiver.

“I think you’re done.” Eddie said. He hesitated a second before climbing off his lap.

Steve knew he looked winded. Eddie tried to look casual but he’s known him for a while and could see that it was feigned casualness.

“Uh. Good.” Lame. Steve is lame.

Mike Wheeler was right because Steve Harrington is lame.

How is he gonna explain this to Robin?

[blueeyesfilledwithpassion]

Consistency

Dear Me…..💙😎

[lupuru]

[jojo-schmo]

The 24 Character Strengths are awesome references when writing characters!!

I've found this website to be extremely helpful and cool while fleshing out my characters' personalities and motivations.

Even if I only have basic personality traits for a character, exploring strengths that I feel fits them and reading their descriptions is fantastic for inspiration!! It really helps narrow down the basic ideals I imagine a character would believe in, and then I can get more specific from there. It's a great guide to springboard off of!

Each strength is sorted into one of six virtues. Starting with a broad virtue, for example "justice," and honing that down into the strengths of "fairness," "leadership," or "teamwork" makes writing them really fun!

Here's an example of the "fairness" strength description! Lots of detail and tangible qualities describing it!

Of course there are infinite ways to interpret a character strength, just like in real life. And people aren't always black and white and follow a strength 100% of the time. But it's been extremely helpful to see specific traits being described in so much detail, and imagining different scenarios that a character would react in. It's like I can understand them a bit more and think a little like them, especially if their trait isn't one of my personal strengths. :3

But I also recommend taking the actual personality test for yourself! I took it years ago and it was really cool to put a name to some of my strengths and see how detailed this descriptions were. And when my friends and I shared our results, I felt like we understood each other just a little more. :)

Just thought I'd share this reference that's been helping me lately :D

[pronouncingitwang]

something something the spark in claudia's eyes at "a woman vampire!" the way she starts off translating for louis then just talks to daciana alone ignoring his requests for her to translate what she's saying when it used to just be her and louis and their secret language of telepathy against lestat and the way she uses romanian (a language she worked and killed to learn while louis was slowing them down. when she first introduces him to those soldiers she says he can't speak!!!) aloud instead of telepathically so he knows exactly in what way he's being shut out of the conversation but she's not even thinking about that she's just so happy about finally not being alone

[kadextra]

cc!bad opening up about how he had a powerful realization during rp earlier that he genuinely feels the qsmp members as family and how it surprised him. they are all from different cultures & speak different languages, he’s only known them for a few months, yet they are so dear to him

and he explained how with roleplay he usually goes all-in with the character to show the emotions, but with the qsmp he’s been feeling many real emotions. like the eggs who are fictional pixel characters but he’s felt genuine joy and grief about them.

T_T awwww ;;;; every qsmp member seems to share these feelings. many have said something like this before, especially those who went to the meetup in France. they view one another like a big happy family. this was always the purpose of qsmp but the level it’s grown to is something special. it warms my heart so much

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again - Part Six

Summary: Azriel had been avoiding her all day after their last encounter, she was willing to let him brood all he wanted. Y/n may have just found her way home, but it comes with a warning.

Series Masterlist

-Part Six-

Y/n was finally back to her research, she’d eaten lunch with the Valkyries, all of them starving after training much longer than the two hours they’d expected. They had ended up talking about books, recommending many of their favorites for Y/n to read, Nesta had promised to drop some off by her room later in the evening. She’d told them of the books she read back home, of Dorian’s personal library that he’d share with her whenever either of them visited, of the libraries of Orynth, filled with stories from every corner of the world. Books scholars had saved from Adarlan’s path of destruction, books her family had found on their journeys around the world, books written of their battles, of hero’s and villains, love and loss.

Once they’d gone their separate ways, Y/n had found her stacks of papers and the Walking Dead in the exact place she’d left them the night before. The scratched out notes making less sense now that she looked them over with a clear mind. She’d been trying to make sense of her rambling for hours, her mind going numb, almost ready to give up when she’d felt his presence.

He’d been avoiding her all day, just like she had avoided him this morning. If it was because she’d lain him flat on his back, or from the dark look in his eyes as he’d look down at her when she’d been pinned to his chest, she wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t going to spend the time wondering. If he had a problem with her showing him up, then he and his ego could deal with that on their own, it wasn’t her problem. And if it was the other reason, she had much more important things to worry about than the gorgeous male staring at the back of her neck. At least that’s what she told herself.

“How many times must you be told?” She doesn’t lift her gaze from her notes, “It’s impolite to stare.”

A cool touch caresses the skin of her ankle, a tendril of shadows gently wrapping around her. Usually she’d snap at the little creature, but instead she just looks over her shoulder at the source, at the male leaning against the doorway. That dark and heavy look in his eye was gone, replaced by that mask of stoic beauty. He doesn’t say anything, only stares into her eyes, and she fights the urge to fidget beneath his gaze. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of it, she refused, no matter how her skin seemed to burn everywhere his eyes touched.

“You’re so upset I beat you that you’d give me the silent treatment,” she clicks her tongue, turning her back to him, “You males have such fragile egos.”

Again, no response, and it digs under her skin in a way she’s sure her cheeky little smiles do to him. Fine, if he wanted to play this game, she could to.

“You’d think after this long someone would’ve house trained you.” She throws that exact irritating saccharine smile over her shoulder, “Teach you some manners.”

Something she’d always known about herself is that she’d inherited her mother’s temper, to her father’s eternal delight. Prone to freezing a room or lighting it on fire during temper tantrums. When he didn’t respond again, she could feel her magic stirring beneath her skin, wanting to lash out, but again, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He could sit there and play brooding, tall, dark, and handsome warrior all he liked.

That little wisp of shadow gently tugs on her ankle, just enough pressure for her to look down at it, to follow it back to the male who’d taken several silent steps towards her.

She suddenly felt to small, to exposed, sitting there before him, her back on display. She’d been here for only two days and somehow she had already let her guard down. These fae weren’t her own, they weren’t friends she’d known her whole life, they were strangers who could just a easily kill her as she could them. Deadly warriors, skilled magic users, dangerous. She stands from her chair, turning to face him, hand in easy reach of her multiple daggers strapped across her body.

“Are you going to just stare me down, like some feral beast,” she snaps, letting that anger slip its leash, a warning to stay back, “or do you have something to say?”

Those eyes are suddenly not so blank, that mask ripped away to show the male beneath. And she saw that look, that darkness, that desire. It’d been the later that had kept him away, that had him coming back now. A predator stalking his prey, those whiskey eyes dipping down and slowly dragging back up, mapping every dip and curve.

That soft touch at her ankle turns into more than a simple caress, harder. Roughly locking her in place, keeping her from flying away even if she wanted to. He steps closer, and closer, and her heart is pounding in her chest in anger, in fear, in anticipation, she’s not quite sure which.

She has to crane her neck back to keep their eyes locked as he steps right in front of her. Gods he was tall, and gorgeous, and so close she could feel the heat of him.

“Where’d you go, Princess?”

Y/n jerks awake and Azriel pulls his hand away from her shoulder quickly. She’d been laying halfway on the table when he found her, her head resting on one of her arms, a pen loosely dangling between her fingers as if sleep had claimed her without warning. If he was being completely honest, he’d for the briefest moment thought it was cute, the way her cheek was smushed up against her arm, the soft snores that left her mouth. It’d taken him longer than probably necessary to lift his scarred hand to her shoulder and gently shake her a few times, whispering her name. Her skin was warm beneath his palm, and he’d hesitated to move when her lips had twitched up at the corners.

Her eyes frantically search the space around her, a pretty flush on her cheeks. When her eyes finally land on him she jolts, hand flying to her chest as if to cage her galloping heart.

“Gods, someone needs to put a bell on you,” she groans, falling back against her chair, hiding her face between her hands, “What time is it?”

“Well past your bedtime apparently.” He smirks at the glare she sends him from behind her fingers. “I just got back to find you like this.”

She gives him a curious glance, “Where have you been all day? Did your lord and lady give you the day off of babysitting duty?”

“Something like that,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “Why were you drooling all over your notes?”

She glares even deeper, the look in her eyes ice cold like the first night they’d met, “First of all, I was not drooling.”

He pointedly looks at the page she’d been hunched over, “Sure, okay.”

“Second of all,” she growls, shoving that paper across the table like it would hide the smudged ink, “answer my question, where have you been hiding all day? Ego a little bruised?”

She didn’t know the half of it, “I was sent out to check on something. I do have a job you know, and before you say it, no, my job isn’t just babysitting you, Princess.”

“I was going to say it was brooding, but close enough.” She gives him that exasperating smile, and it takes more effort than he’s willing to admit to not stare directly at those lips.

“It’s nearly midnight,” he says instead, glancing at the sky beyond the window.

“Is it really?”

She raises from her chair, putting the thing directly between them, a casual move, to casual. He notices there’s a tension in her shoulders, similar to the way she’d been in the garden that first night, like fight had switched to flight and she was seconds away from running straight through the balcony doors and flying away.

He cocks his head, shadows whispering in his ears, her heart is to fast, something’s wrong. Azriel could tell that himself, her heart hadn’t settled since she’d startled awake, and now she almost refused to meet his eyes. Something was definitely wrong, and he couldn’t keep his thoughts from spiraling.

Did she know that he’d spent the day flying just to cool off, that his blood had roared for hours and hours, that his mind had played the image of her below him, looking up through her lashes, over and over and over. Was she disturbed, disgusted, did the tentative bond they’d formed in the early hours of the morning snap and crumble to dust.

“I should go,” Y/n says, her eyes shift to the doorway beyond his shoulder. “Like you said it’s well past my bedtime. A female needs her beauty rest.”

She doesn’t move though, doesn’t take that first step that would bring her closer to him and Azriel doesn’t like the way it stings.

So he nods, takes a step back and waves a hand towards the door, “Goodnight then, Princess.”

She nods once, “Goodnight, Shadowsinger.”

And then she’s gone, rushing from the room. Azriel keeps his shadows firmly at his side, even as they struggle and beg to follow her, to catch her and keep her there with him. He’d already done enough, already scared her off. Mother above he was pathetic, his heart clenching painfully in his chest, absolutely pathetic.

There were more of those revealing clothes laid out on the dresser when she woke the next morning. Y/n noted that they were in the Terrasen green and silver that she had asked the house for. It eased her heart to wear those colors, made her feel like home wasn’t somewhere far across the stars.

Also laid out on the table by her seating area was a tray full of breakfast, it seemed the house knew she was avoiding a certain male. It may make her a coward, but she needed to put a little bit of space between them, that dream had shaken her, and she needed the time to pull herself together.

She wasn’t a stranger to attraction, to dreaming of males and females alike, to waking up in a bed that wasn’t her own. But this was different, Azriel was different. He wasn’t just some male who’d caught her eye, he was the guard who watched over her to keep her in line, he was the one who’d found her, bleeding and vulnerable on the garden floor, he was a stupidly handsome male from a foreign world who she knew next to nothing about. She had no business feeling anything for him, even if it was just lust.

It took her longer than she’d like to admit to put on a brave face and walk out her door. Azriel had left hours ago, she’d heard him walk into the hall, wait for several minutes as if expecting her to walk out, and then leave when she didn’t.

Y/n took the now familiar path to the dining room, where she found Feyre and Amren sitting at the clear spaces away from Y/n’s sprawling notes.

“Finally,” Amren sneers, “how long does it take you to get ready, girl.”

“Amren,” Feyre warns softly, “Good morning, Y/n, how’d you sleep.”

“Morning, Feyre. I slept fine, thank you.” She’d slept like shit actually, but she wasn’t going to say that and have to explain that a certain shadowsinger wouldn’t leave her mind. “Was there something you needed?”

“It took some convincing Amren.” Feyre gestures to the small scowling female, “But we’d like you to take a look at the Book of Breathings. It’s full of those marks and I wonder if you’d have an easier time looking for what you need.”

Y/n glances at the table between them, searching for the mysterious book. When she doesn’t find it Feyre’s hand comes up, snapping once, and all of a sudden a terrible presence fills the room. It’s heavy and old and whatever it is has Y/n’s defenses rising.

It’s not a book in the traditional sense, no paper, no leather, but metal plates bound by metal rings. It thumps onto the table, and the sound seems to echo around the room, through Y/n’s head.

“I’ll warn you,” Amren says, “the thing has a nasty habit of speaking out of turn. Don’t let it get to you.”

Feyre looks visibly uncomfortable in its presence, leaning back in her chair away from it. Y/n was half tempted to turn and fly out of the room, instead she sits before the ancient book.

Hello little stranger, it whispers, and she recoils away from it, teller of many stories, none of her own.

“Hello, creepy book,” she answers, “Do you have any stories to share?”

“Don’t humor it,” Amren snaps, glaring when Feyre shushes her.

I have many stories, it answers, many stories that may intrigue you, storyteller.

“Any on how I may get home?”

Look and see, it says, the answer you seek is already there, though I wonder if you truly want to see it.

Her brow furrows in confusion, “All I want is to go home.”

Ah, home, it sighs, what is home to you, storyteller? A castle, family, books, whiskey, shadows, a lover?

She forces away the image that comes to mind, “Terrasen, thats my home.”

Land of pine and snow, the book seems to take a deep breath, godless, the gods killer queen, the kings flame blooming year round. Why did it throw you out? Why did the stag turn his back on you.

Anger flares through her, “Enough.”

The Wyrd has plans for you, hesitate to turn your back on the gifts she gives you, it says, she will not take the slight kindly.

“I didn’t ask for a gift,” she snarls, “I didn’t ask to be ripped away from my home, from my family. I didn’t ask to have everything taken from me.”

And yet you have so much to gain.

Just like that it goes quiet, presence fading till it was nothing but a book. Y/n wants to scream, to force it to come back and tell her exactly how to get home.

“It hasn’t been that active since the halves were joined,” Feyre breathes, face pale.

Amren watches Y/n with curious eyes, “It’s interested in her, the same way it was with you. I don’t think we want to find out why.”

Y/n lifts her hand to the first plate, cold metal stinger her flesh. That ancient power floods through her, though the book stays quiet. It feels like the presence is weighing her down, holding her in her seat. She grits her teeth and forces the book open, eyes flowing over the words that she could not read, over the marks she could. It was a mixture of them, spells and marks, most she knew, some she didn’t. Those were the ones she focused on, the world seeming to hold its breath.

It took her several moments to figure out what exactly she was looking at, a mark she’d seen before, so similar to the one for unlock that she’d overlooked it the first time, open. It was so simple she almost laughs. Open, to open the rifts between worlds, to open a gate. That ancient presence seems to sigh in her mind, the only confirmation she needed before slamming the book shut and shoving it away from her.

“What is it?” Feyre asks, “Are you alright?”

Y/n nods, “Get that thing out of here.”

Amren snaps her fingers and it’s gone, “What did you find, girl? Did it give you what you needed?”

She nods her head again, “I need some paint.”

Tag List-

@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 , @thisiskaylin , @wolfgirl624 , @khaleesihavilliard , @fluffy-bnny , @mariahoedt , @durgenyx , @glitterypirateduck , @byyalady , @amberlynn98 , @ferrarisbitch

[wheniseeyoucry]

Get a girl with a dirty mind but looks all sweet innocent and smart —she’ll keep the conversation fun and never boring!