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#ode to you
fy-wonwoo · 1 year
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200110 ode to you in new jersey. Python17 🐱 do not edit/crop logo.
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just-hyperfixed-ok · 2 years
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Some thoughts before the last episode of Derry Girls airs tonight.
The past six weeks have been the happiest I’ve been in a while. The sense of togetherness this show has brought, though mostly online, has been wonderful.
I often struggle to express my true self, keeping a lot of my interests and thoughts to myself. But, if there’s anything Derry Girls has taught me, it’s to be unashamedly yourself.
All the characters are weird and wonderful in their own unique ways; it’s why we find them so endearing and relatable.
It may have taken me 27 years, but I finally feel like I can be myself, and not care what others think. (Basically, be more like Orla!)
To conclude, thanks for the past four years Lisa McGee and all the people who have worked on Derry Girls. Through the good, bad and everything in between, this show has been a safe haven for so many, and one I’m very grateful for.
See you on the other side 🙂
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ghostinxgiaw · 1 year
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"Stay with Me"
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I wish he was the same as he is in my dreams
The look in his eyes, there was absolutely no deny, you couldn't even lie to the skies
He'd look to me with curiosity, carefulness, and love
I meet him every night, feeling like seconds to me
Flying across my mind with him by my side
"Stay with me."
I beg to hand his words back to him
He loves to break my heart, over and over again
Love me as you did when we were kids, true and kind.
Awake, he loves to hurt me, not by his hands but by his cruel heart
Refusing to look me in my eyes
Turning a cold blue shoulder to me
Forgetting all the things we once were.
Stay with me, don't go...
Give me a twisted piece of your affection
The very least I ask is to never forget me
Don't loathe me, even if you don't love me.
I'll sleep forever if it is him waiting for me in my dreams
I'll reside by him if I have to
I'll walk away forever if it means I can walk with his memory untainted
I'll die happily if he lays me down gently, even if I was slain by him.
Don't forget me. Stay with Me.
Opal
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chweck-in · 1 year
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©️ Trip to Vermoon || Mini Fanmeet
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olivepluss · 2 years
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Www.OlympicSon.com #Picturebook
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berriesandjunnie · 2 years
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pledis if youre dropping a world tour and dont include europe again im flying to korea to hold u at gunpoint until u do bestie cmon
we missed out on ode to you cause of covid dont start excluding europe again when we missed our one chance
sincerely,
a pre-debut carat x
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gingiekittycat · 3 months
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I forgot how lonely it is to write original fiction.
Where are the kudos? The subscriptions? The comments? The people cheerleading me chapter to chapter? Where are the kind words and compliments and reassurances that what I'm writing isn't complete crap? Where are the unhinged emojis? The asks on Tumblr? Where are my mutuals in my dms apologizing for not reading the latest chapter right away (side note, you know you don't have to apologize at all, right??). Where is the fanart? Where are the recs?
Where is my motivation to keep going?
It's something I've been thinking about a lot, actually, lately. How the experience of writing fanfic is so unique. How you already have an audience, willing and waiting and captive. And that's really it, isn't it? You have an audience. It's almost performative, writing fanfic. It's being on a stage, a one-person show (or two, if you do it with a friend); it's getting live reactions to your performance, it's feeding off the energy of the crowd and informing it back in a feedback loop; it's improvised, sometimes, in almost-real-time. It's building something that you couldn't have built by yourself. A thing that takes on a life of its own.
It's an experience you can't get writing original fiction, and, honestly, not having it is making it hard to write something original at all.
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pencilscratchins · 18 days
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atla renaissance pt 3 calls to me like a siren
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horreurscopes · 1 year
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ELEKTRA: I am the shape you made me. Filth teaches filth.
(prints)(process video & high res)
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ode2rin · 5 months
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there sure is never a dull day in your life ever since you somehow bumped your head somewhere and decided to marry gojo satoru.
he was, without a doubt, the most dramatic man you'd ever known.
“why aren’t you obsessed with me?”
and here he goes again making your marriage life comically interesting from his never-ending theatrics that you can’t help but adore. 
he isn’t gojo satoru if he wasn’t dramatic, after all.  it was all part of the deal, one you gladly accepted, promising to be by his side in sickness and in health.
“good morning to you, too, baby,” you responded, a smile tugging at your lips. “what’s got you worked up this early?”
leaning against the bathroom door frame, his eyes fixed on you as you diligently performed your morning skincare routine. sunlight streamed through the window, casting a soft, warm glow, making your features radiant as you applied your cleanser. and for a moment of sight, he got too lost in your beauty and almost forgot his plan of interrogation. 
but still, he needs to get to the bottom of this. “listen, i’m not looking for an argument, just understanding.” 
“okay, then,” you said, still attending to your skincare routine. “let’s hear this seeking of understanding.”
gojo’s gaze remained fixed on you as he considered his words carefully, “why aren't you obsessed with me like how i'm obsessed with you?”
“i’m in love with you.” you replied instantly, without a second in waste. because that’s how it has always been, loving gojo satoru and declaring it to the world was as easy as breathing.
you threw a side glance to your lover only to be met with glassy sky blue eyes looking at you and a pout telling you it wasn’t the right answer to the question.
“but you’re not obsessed with me,” he mumbles. “while i think about you every single minute of the day – in my sleep, in my lunch – i think about you, and i don’t think you think about me at all.”
“and where could this be coming from?”
“i was gone for 13 hours, and you only called me once. once, baby. do you even care about me?”
you attempt to explain, “you were on a mission—”
“i could have an injury,” he interjects, “i could have bumped my head somewhere, had amnesia, and forgotten about you.”
you couldn’t help but laugh at the possibilities he laid out just because you only called him once. finishing your skincare with a swift application of lip balm, you make your way to your lover, who is now resting his left temple against the doorjamb while earnestly watching you with the same look in his eyes from when you walked down the aisle.
“i think that’s fairly impossible, though,” you muse. your hands naturally find their way to his neck. “my husband is the strongest.”
strongest in the eyes of sorcerers and curses, perhaps, he is. but here? with you pressed close to him like this? he was nothing of any sort the strongest.
“what your husband right now is not the strongest but an unloved husband who couldn’t get his partner to call him to check on him,” he teases, putting great stress on ‘your’ because he was, in fact, yours.
“aw, must have been hard for him, huh?” you coo, going along with his teasing, “what can i possibly do to make up for it?”
“you can start with a kiss here,” he gestures to his lips, and you gladly oblige with a soft peck.
“too easy. what’s the next step?”
“and i want you to be obsessed with me. call me multiple times a day. text me. email me if you want.”
“okay, done. do you want me to write you a letter as well, like we’re in the '80s?” you sarcastically replied.
“sure, i’d love that,” he says with a chuckle before pulling you close enough to rest your head in the crook of his neck, his jaw resting on your temple as he caresses your back.
you closed your eyes, finding comfort in his warmth, and relishing every soft little kiss planted on your temple, until you felt his head drop onto your shoulder.
“i think about you every second of the day,” he whispers right in your ear.
jokes of being obsessed with you aside, it was truly a confession.
you could be beside gojo, peacefully slumbering, and there would always be that wave of need threading in his chest to be closer to you.
and behind his theatrics, none of his words held any bite of hoax. because after all these years, it still wouldn't sink in to him that there was someone who could take him for a husband.
but you're here – waking up next to him, doing your skincare next to his own set of toiletries, roaming around the house wearing his shirt, gracing the quiet corners of his soul with your laughter.
you're here, and it's everything and more that truly matters.
as you reach to cradle his face in your palms, you feel a squeeze in your chest from how he closes his eyes as if melting in your touch.
“even after all this time? you might get sick of me, my love.” you ask, a smile so evident behind.
“never,” he declares against your lips, a boyish curl of his lips slowly showing. “you, on the other hand, might get sick of me soon. seeing that you couldn't even call me twice after those long hours i wasn't home.”
you playfully roll your eyes at his accusation, of course he wouldn't let it off that easy. “i promise to call you twice and text you as much as i can. how's that sound now?” you hum.
“promise?”
“i promise,” you assure, sealing it with a kiss on the tip of his nose,  “and what do you mean, get sick of you? that’s nonsense. i told you right? it’s you for me.”
you for me. oh, how he likes the thought. sheepishly, he whispers in question, “even after all this time?”
“until the end of time, toru.”
until the end of time. oh, heaven and earth, how he loves the thought.
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note. i miss him... terribly, i'm afraid. btw, here's a payback for all the angst..
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mai-library · 1 year
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Have we finally come to the realization that it is futile? Living anxiously within the what ifs and breaking apart the skin on our wrists trying to get to places we are no longer welcome. It is pitiful. It is disarming. It is not somewhere you want to be one second longer. You are a dreamer. Always have been, and always will be. You look to the future and plan, you refuse to let yourself be dragged down in the swamp of the past. You are a dreamer, a seer, a psychic, so you look straight ahead. The what ifs no longer make a home out of your heart. You learn to let go. You learn to live.
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fy-wonwoo · 1 year
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190830 ode to you in seoul. double u 🐱 do not edit. (1,2)
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gojo-mochi · 5 months
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Gojo loves your titties, call them his “Girlies.” He had a bad day? He’s resting his face right in the middle of them, one hand squeezing them occasionally as he whines about how mean Nanami or Megumi was to him earlier that day. Can’t keep his hands off of them, in public when you’re walking side by side, his hand on your waist, he would secretly move it up inch by inch until he can get a squeeze in. You lost count of how many times you had to slap his hand away when he tried to do it behind the back of his students or the other teachers. At home, there is no excuse now, whether you’re cooking, relaxing, or doing anything. Gojo is right there behind you, hand on your chest, chin on your shoulder or resting on your head. Talking the day away like his large hand isn’t encompassing your entire boob right now.
If he feeling frisky (which is most of the time, let’s be honest), he would slip his hand under your shirt or if you’re around the house braless, he would teasingly rub and pinch at your nubs until you start to whine. Then because he’s a jerk, he would pull his hands away and walk away like nothing happened until you go to beg him to touch some more. During sex it when he’s the worst about it, now he can’t keep his mouth off of your chest, licking, sucking, and biting at it. Leaving various love marks all around your poor titties, leaving it sore in the morning afterwards. He’ll happily massage the pain away though. Gojo will suck at your nipples like he’s trying to get milk out of it though, no matter how many times you say you can’t, he’ll try anyway, stating that maybe one day it’ll work. 
When he’s fucking you, if he can see your tits bounce, his eyes are fixated on them, stopping to a halt with his cock buried all the way inside of you, stopping just when you were about to reach that peak. Your nails digging in his shoulder as you cried out, wondering why he stopped.  Only for him to lean down and place a wet smack on each of your tits like; “Forgot to give my girlies their kisses~” And just because he’s so nice, he’ll let you return the favor and play with his tiddies as well.
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ghostinxgiaw · 1 year
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"absolute love language"
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The act of love, the choice to love deeply, to lead with love, to give love, to receive it.
It is the look of two souls, drawing to one another
Friends and so, hand intertwining with the other
A lovely distant memory close to the heart
A smile from a stranger
It is the love bite left on a shoulder
The Sun's first kiss to the clouds of the morning skies
The Moon joining the stars in fortnight.
How can dear Love do this, shining her bright light?
To what do we do owe her prescence, the greatest gift from above?
He told me he's never met anyone like me, his words understood the language of my heart
First love of our youths, our smiles reflecting well
Absolute divine love from God and to him, and to his son, and to his children
Mother said to be careful with my love, but I am overtaken and infatuated with you.
So this is love?
Is it always true?
It is not painful, it is not mean, it gives and nurtures, it is truthful, it is the greatest challenge of a gift.
She yelled to me, her life has been blessed with me
How do I enunciate my glee?
My arms wrapped her straight up, this must be
Love.
It is the churchbells after sunday service
It is the first slice of a dessert
It is the final rest before tomorrow
It is the paint strumming across our canvases
It is the memories and dreams dancing in my mind
Mother singing me to my slumber.
Love Love Love, special to thee
Does she know just how special she can be?
- opal
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form and function
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 3 months
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“Almost Christmas” means it wasn’t Christmas!
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