â   iâm pulling  ALL MY TEETH   to try and feel something.   â   @strxnzoâ âĄâd.

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    â   iâm pulling  ALL MY TEETH   to try and feel something.   â   @strxnzoâ âĄâd.

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@strxnzoâ said,  â well, iâm an unconventional girl, thatâs what you like about me. â
he knows sheâs just teasinâ,  but it comes on the heels of a confession heâd meant more than she maybe knows.  itâs not something he lingers on a whole lot, but itâs there â a little more now whenever he catches sight of the two of âem in the same space, reflections starinâ back.  her hairâs dark and falls just right over her shoulders, and her eyes â theyâre always shining up at him, always beautiful, always so full of life and bigger than the world.  maybe his favorite thing to do these days is trace his fingertips all over the tattoos scattered along the length of her little body, then kiss the corners of âem, too, just for good measure.  and when she smiles  . . .  heâs a goner, just gone.
     then he sees himself, and he always sobers.
   they used to call him ears â just ears.  nothinâ new, heâd always been awkward and ungainly through the years.  it didnât last long anyway when heâd grown bigger and lumbering, and they started just callinâ him logan, save for a few jokes over drinks.  back in those days, there wasnât any time;  no one gave a shit, no one thought too hard or long about somethinâ little like looks.  far removed from his family, thereâd be days he forgot to compare himself to jimmy, with his squared off jaw and steely eyes, charm drippinâ from his brother like nobodyâs business.
     then clyde came back here, back home, back into his brotherâs shadow.
   they say iâve got unconventional looks, heâd murmured, stretching the syllables out in that four - dollar word like they were foreign â or like maybe he just hadnât wanted to repeat it.  donât know how you ever looked at me again, heâd joked, voice a little lighter to make up for the fact that he wasnât, not really, his a half - cocked smile that didnât go any higher than his lips.  maybe thatâs alright though;  he hadnât got jimmy or mellieâs nice eyes, no, he got their granddaddyâs flint ones and a big, pouty mouth like his ears had conspired with âem to unbalance the rest of his too - narrow face â a face she now cradles, coaxinâ it down to hers like he wouldnât live there in her bubble if he could.   well, iâm an unconventional girl, thatâs what you like about me, she says, whole universes in those eyes.  dark like his.  he tries to see himself through them.
     then he leans in and presses a soft, lingerinâ kiss to her lips,  âcause itâs more than enough that she even looks at him at all.
PAUL HOLD MY OTHER HAND RIGHT NOW
thereâs no need to shout. all you have to do is bat those eyelashes at me and iâm SOLD
STARTER for @strxnzoâ muse: jules | verse: s3
âWhat...what was that?â She could have sworn that she saw a spark of electricity coming from the otherâs fingertips, but even she couldnât be completely sure. Jules lowered herself on the couch beside the woman, her eyes widening a little as she held her hand up, palm facing the other. âCould you do it again?â
âlookât me, pratt. breathe. breathe.â while heâs keeled over from the vigorous training, eliza rubs his back, hands running over the ridges of his spine â before using her tender nature to curl her hand under his jawline and gently guide his gaze to hers. âyânot weak â i know that. yâjusâ gotta prove that tâhim.â she gestures to one of the posters of jacob behind them, and her tone builds from stern to a soft pleading; âfight. yâjusâ gotta fight.â
   âDonât touch me, please. I donât...Just stop it.â Staci shuffled back further into that curled up, fetal position against the wall. He only faced the wall. He didnât want to look at Eliza. He didnât want to be stronger. He just wanted to be himself. He just wanted to live. âI just wanna go home, Eliza. I donât wanna be here.â
  He started to turn outward, back against the wall and his head in his hands, still not yet facing Eliza. But then he felt her hand under his chin. He flinched. He couldnât look her in the eye. He didnât know what to do. He didnât know where to look. He didnât know what to say. Why was she so kind? Why did she trust him? Why did she tolerate him? Why did she think this was right? Why did she listen to Jacob?
   âIâm scared. Iâm not strong, Iâm scared. I donât know what to do. I donât know how to be strong.â

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   @strxnzo liked for a one liner from kylo ren.
  "Don't fight it...you know you can't."
A HAND SNATCHES OUT AND GRASPS HER WRIST.  there was no shame in eagerness nor enthusiasm, however, there was in ignoring danger.  rush into something too fast and you could get caught out.  beneath the shadow of his mask, features strain to express his disapproval - scolding, because if she gets caught ?  heâll have to clear up the mess and put his neck on the line for her, which heâd rather avoid if possible.  after all, heâd done enough clearing up in his life already, thanks to erin.
       â not yet. â  the master thiefâs tone is heavy and firm, muffled by his mask though barely above a whisper.  below them stands their target.  â he has company. â  the untrained eye wouldnât have picked up on them, but garrett knows the nobles all too well.  cautiously, he nudges a finger in the direction of two ( no doubt hired )  gentlemen sitting on a nearby bench.  you wouldnât think them to be connected - though their continuous eye contact says otherwise.  â need t' get him alone. â  / @strxnzo /  sc.
@strxnzoâ
He was traveling back from a successful hunt; the morningstar once bloodied now hung at his waist, cleaned and ready for anyone unfortunate enough to mistake him as someone to rob. Ser Gervaise did not frequently go on quests with his subordinates; often they were ordered onto other tasks and spread evenly among the kingdom - a knight for every sector, with him walking among all. Of course that depended on what area required aid the most; like this questâs monstrosities made of dead flesh, sent out to drag victims back to a damned land. It was handled with ease because of course it was - he was a Lord Knight for a reason.
One of those reasons being for his keen senses. The small shift in the air had his golden gaze tilting towards the right, following the wind current that moved in the opposite direction of how it had been blowing. Unnatural, a sign of magic or a potential creature stalking. His pace slowed, expression unmoved as he turned to follow the direction it came in. The knight moved through the trees, off the beaten path and into a small clearing where he found a humanoid woman. This could be any number of creatures that lured men from the road; yet the foulness of a hungry beast was not in the air. Something cleaner, the clearing did not hint at something vile and the cursed weapon did not warn him of any illusionary magic.
His hand remained on the hilt of his morningstar as he gazed down upon the woman that looked too clean to be this far out from any civilization. âHail, stranger - are you woman or beast?â Ser Gervaise inquired, tone clipped but polite enough to not be considered ill-mannered. Heâd determine quickly if an execution was necessary; no sense in leaving a potential creature to attack peddlers.