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electing strange perfections
[http://archiveofourown.org/works/5679367] - - public:opalsong
Dave says, bouncing his heel on your thigh for attention, “Are you drunk? Holy shit, are you— like, are you tripping out? Did Rose just roofie you with her pretentious fuckin’ leaf water? Oh my god.” “Oh my god,” Rose repeats, and colors brilliantly across her cheeks, blood coursing bright and close under her skin.
