Szpd culture is perpetually waiting. For what? I don't know. But I'm waiting for it.
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15. beach
i watch - i watch the time - i watch the waves - i watch the way you pause in front of the ocean - i watch the way you glance at me - the corner of your eye - and i - i want to say hello - i want you to say hello - i want one of us to say - something - i am stuck - romance shy - so my chance dies - i'm sorry - a stupid reason - i wait - i apologise - if it was you - i guess i'll never know now - stupid me - why can't you be - more brave?
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I’m always waiting for a notification. That little red dot.
On iMessage, on instagram… but they never come.
Because no one wants to talk to me. They ignore me. They don’t want to talk to me.
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Michael Kiwanuka - Always Waiting
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Ugh... Is it six yet?
Is it eleven yet?
Is it Friday yet?
Always waiting.... waiting... waiting..
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compelled to re-read Darling (again) bc of all this Benny/Dean stuff today, thank u for your contribution, that is top shelf
thank you!! I re-read my own fics pretty often (I dunno if that's weird or normal, they're just comforting) and I am re-reading darling today because of the dean/benny dash lol.
people seemed to not like that it had wincest in it, but the thought of writing a dean who's not—in some capacity—deeply hung up on and unhinged about his brother, especially in season 8, is too out of character to even consider. it's like in destiel fics where dean spends whole evenings or maybe even days without being around sam?? those people are watching a different show. I don't know that guy
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process of drawing an OC:
- you design them
- you get attached to them
- their hair gets bigger without you realizing it
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Every night, he says goodnight and I love you.
Every morning, he says good morning and I love you.
Every day, he hopes she'll come back.
Every minute his heart belongs to her.
I love you Ali, I cannot change that.
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I’m going to make a place for myself in this world. I’m going to find somewhere that she and I can be safe together, where our mothers and fathers and supposed friends can’t ever see us again. She can paint beautifully and I’ll write poems and stories. Maybe one day I can write a song so soft and sweet that it calls her voice out of her throat to sing unashamed. Or maybe she can fall asleep on our land’s tall grass knowing that I will carry her home, every time. And we can kiss if we want. We can have sex. We can be in love where no one can stop us.
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