#thefangingace

                                                                                  ; send me a url and i'll talk about them.

                  For a split second she freezes beneath his touch, has to forcibly remind herself that it is not the man who thinks himself a GOD in front of her but the only paternal figure she has known in this life instead. And warring with the sudden spring of fearful fury is---- PRIDE. You did good, kid. Words not often spoken by the older man. And as much as she tries to distance herself from everyone ( even him sometimes ) she smiles. 

             It’s small and it’s brief but it’s THERE for him to see before she gently knocks his hands away from her face, mutters a small remark that might have earned her a soft cuff if she hadn’t stepped away, the war rig they stand on jolting beneath their feet. “----Thanks,” she adds, blue-green eyes fixed on the horizon line, against the glare of the setting sun. The corner of her mouth tilts into something that might resemble mischief. “You too, old man.”

Send "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" and my muse will respond to yours asking them that question.

❛you’re a grown man,❜

{ she begins, but already she’s moving over   to let the war boy(?) lie down. }