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#reblogging APOLOGY!!!
petricorah · 1 year
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“nothing much dog, what’s up with you?”
-with new group members comes more opportunities-
+bonus
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skywalker-swift · 1 month
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btw I’ve mentioned this on here before but I had a really shitty ex boyfriend. while I was in the relationship, I would write poems about him being my lifeline, the thing that kept me floating, he brought color to my world and I would praise him for giving me the tiniest of kindnesses. But there was a lot of red flags and bad shit he did to me and things he put me through, that honestly I couldn’t admit and realize until I went to therapy. A lot of those poems have been changed in my head, the meaning of them changed, and I even wrote poems changing the meaning of the earlier poems. The good was good. The bad was worse. I know that now. I’m older now. It’s brighter now.
If I can do that for myself on a private level, why can’t Taylor do it publicly? Why can’t she do this for herself? She wrote him into her world, let her write him out if she needs too. She’s older now. Let her do the same.
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lonicera-edulis · 4 months
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kitmarlowe · 10 months
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See? This is why I don't go to the pub.
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sparring-spirals · 1 year
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imogen fumbling shit is just eternally good fodder for memes, alright. and its at least partly BECAUSE of how powerful she is. someone tripping while using a nerf gun? funny. someone dramatically hoisting up an outfit matchin heavy death laser gun and then immediately tripping and landing on their face? phenom. sometimes she goes "GROVEL" and the enemies grovel and we all go "oooooh" and "aaaahhh" and sometimes she just gets fully ignored and gets so huffy and petulant and ineffectually burns a cantrip just to be petty about it. sometimes she smites her enemies into dust with one move and renders a tree in half after threatening and other times she fucking. falls down a flight of stairs and accidentally sets everything on fire. fires a gun at her own team. loses all her hair. turns blue. etc.
Imogen lifts a humongous sand squid into the sky with her mind powers. Imogen is also falling out of a sky ship and landing on the desert sand far below and just. lying there. while her friend plays the flute in the background. epic hot failgirls NEED the HEIGHT to FAIL FROM. u gotta swing and miss sometimes!!! AND you gotta be REAL petty about it when u miss!!!! fucking fantastic.
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thesunisatangerine · 8 months
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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part one
alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader
status: completed
(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]
word count: 1.1k
The thing was, you didn’t plan on getting laid tonight. 
After a couple of days trying to settle in at Barcelona and looking for your lost luggage, all you wanted to do was to finally start your vacation. You just wanted to relax and experiencing the night life in Barcelona was definitely a good way to officially kick it off. 
So there you were at the bar of an (apparently) exclusive night club in the city–the location was emailed to you by Derek with a VIP pass and a note that said, ‘have fun ;)’–nursing your second, half-empty glass of mojito, the speakers blasting rhythmic reggaeton music, when a woman slid into the space next to you, cool and confident with the way she leaned on her elbows against the counter as she gave the bartender her order in smooth spanish, “A gin rickey, please.”
The woman looked to be several years older than you–and taller, too, even with your heels on–and maybe it was the alcohol or the proximity but there was no stopping yourself from openly admiring her. Her black, cropped top and her tight, high-rise pants revealed perfectly broad shoulders and toned arms, as well as the taught lines of her stomach. When your eyes travelled back to her face, you found her looking at you with a raised brow and immediately, your cheeks warmed. The fact that you were gawking shamelessly and got caught doing so… just wow.
Words of apology were already on your tongue but the curves of her lips were mesmerising, the elegant slope of her brows distracting, and those eyes… the depth in them threatened to drown you that all coherent thought deserted you. 
“Wow,” you breathed out.
“Excuse me?” Came the bemused question, an instant slap to the face that sobered you up immediately. 
“I’m so–I’m sorry, that’s what I meant to say. I’m–” You palmed a hand over your face as you began but a small chuckle stopped you halfway. You risked a peek through your fingers and saw the woman with her lips to the glass, something akin to a teasing smirk on her face while she remained leaning on the counter by her hip. 
“You’re not from around here, are you?” The woman asked as she took a sip from her drink.
Not really the question you were expecting but you’d rather take a reprieve over a disaster. And at that, you smiled sheepishly at her. “Is it that obvious?”
“Hmm, no, not really. Your slight accent gave you away but your Spanish is impressive.”
“I’m still working on losing it but I’ll take that as a win. I’m assuming you’re from around here?”
“My home town is about an hour away outside of the city but I stay here most of the time for work.”
“That must be nice, being close to home.” Feeling more at ease now, you sipped at your drink. The woman did the same. Then you continued. “So, what do you do?”
For a moment there was nothing but music and chatter as the woman regarded you with an unreadable expression. Her eyes glinted–with what exactly? curiosity?–her head cocked slightly to the side. Then she sipped at her drink again. Did you say something offensive? you wondered.
“I work between the sport stadiums. And you? Where is home and what brings you to Barcelona?” 
It was clear from the vagueness of her answer that the stranger didn’t want to talk about her job and it didn’t help your growing interest for her. You wanted to ask her about further details but the dismissive tone with which she answered made you hold your tongue and her question, anyway, made you pause as you pondered to answer.
As an orphan who lived a few years in the system, the subject of where home was had always been a sore spot for you even if the stranger didn’t mean anything deeper by it. In some sense, your adoptive mom was home but there was always a part of you that longed for… something.  But, of course, you couldn’t bring that up right now especially to someone you just met. So you just told her where you were from, that you were on vacation, and that you work as a photojournalist for a press agency you helped establish. Something in your answer must had piqued the woman’s interest because her brows shot up.
“Which branch do you work in?”
“Spot news. But I’ve been meaning to expand my portfolio and get into another branch. Maybe try sports or portrait?”
The woman hummed in appreciation. “Any sports in particular? Wait, do you even like sports?”
“I honestly know close to nothing so I haven’t made a decision yet, but it will definitely be women’s sports,” you replied. She nodded and sipped at her drink again, never breaking her gaze from yours and you felt your cheeks warm again. Those eyes… they were dangerous; they lit up every nerve in your body and it felt good. You continued. “What about you? Are you much of a sports person?”
And to your total bafflement, the woman beamed at you, radiant and glowing, dimples in her cheeks as mirth shone in her eyes.
“What?” you asked, a bit nervous and at somewhat of a loss. 
The stranger let out a small chuckle, shook her head slightly as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, an attempt to hide her smile. “Nothing, nothing. And yeah, I’m a big sports fan. Then a beat passed before she continued, “you ever thought of covering women’s football? There are plenty of matches happening in the domestic leagues right now.”
“Maybe I will,” you hummed, mulling it over. It sounded good actually. And then you asked, “what else do you suggest for someone to do in Barcelona?”
The woman downed her remaining drink and placed the empty glass on the counter. Before you knew it, you could feel the warmth of her breath against your ear and you shivered when she purred. “Dance, of course.”And then she was holding your hand, pulling you off of the stool you were on, and began dragging you to the direction of the dance floor. 
All at once, warmth encompassed you: the crowd immediately swallowed you both, bodies pressed on you but the heat that emanated from the woman before you was the sole beacon for your attention. She had a loose arm around your waist and as the both of you danced to the music, you took that opportunity to wrap your arms around her neck and pulled her closer. She slowed down and she still had enough height on you that she had to lower her head.
“I never caught your name,” you spoke into her ear. 
“I’m Ale,” she replied. She pulled back to smile down at you. And then, she kissed you. 
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s-lay-ing · 10 months
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GOING SEVENTEEN 2022: Wonwoo edition 💎
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thefabledcannibals · 1 month
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Do you think Will would make Chesapeake Ripper references while they’re having sex?
Like, yeah open me up like one of your designs... Move my organs around… stab me.
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seb-boo · 15 days
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askarsjustsoswedish · 1 month
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Alexander Skarsgård, Max Irons, Florence Pugh, Bethany Muir – The Little Drummer Girl, Ep1 – Gadi Becker, Al, Charlie Ross, Sophie. BBC and AMC.
[I made a similar gifset back in 2018 and this past week or so it's been continually hitting my notifications and I've been squirming with embarrassment so hard. Now that my gif making is better, and the limit is now 10mb, I had to make them again. And yes, I added Max/Al stating the obvious! Apologies if you've recently reblogged my op from '18.]
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nat-without-a-g · 3 months
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So how do we think the twins managed to pull the “same man twice” shtick so good Normal overtly misidentified them? Like, Sparrow getting slapped and responding with a millisecond of rage and Normal going ‘oh that’s absolutely my dad’ when Lark is Known to be the angrier twin.. it has to be a convincing getup. I have some theories.
1. Dress Code includes short hair and no beard
2. They intentionally chose to dress differently knowing lark would be the one to meet them if they encountered each other
3. Lark’s disheveled state is how they Both wind up if they neglect grooming themselves.
Bonus: what was probably running through Lark’s head when Lincoln rolled an EIGHTEEN to slap him TWICE while he was trying to signal he was fully lucid.
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taro-wong · 1 year
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Warm.
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ao3commentoftheday · 10 months
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This blog has enough followers now that if I reblog someone, there is potential that it could end up ruining their notes for days. I'm curious:
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patzweigz · 4 months
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i've been kind of glib about this (and perhaps not making things any better by giving the show my attention with redesigns without making it very clear they are borne from criticsm), but speaking more bluntly i don't think vivziepop has earned any kind of congratulations for getting hazbin hotel made until she intentionally and wholly apologizes for, at the very least, her history of anti-blackness as it manifests in her show.
in particular she needs to apologize for everything involving alastor-- it is frankly quite stunning how he both encapsulates the vilification of black people's spiritual practices and long-standing stereotypes of those of african decent (portraying voudou as an evil magic and his noted cannibalism) and yet is simultaneously whitewashed of any clear signifiers that he is black/biracial. as a black louisiana creole myself (as he is as well), he is the most egregious example of the kind of disrespect she feels for black people and their cultures, and as long as he continues to exist in an official capacity in her lineup she has earned nothing but ire in my eyes.
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castrovulcant · 1 year
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Happy Out of Touch Thursday, Whovians.
More here
[Video description: a series of shots from various episodes featuring Roger Delgado's The Master compiled with the song "out of touch" playing over them. /end video description]
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coefficiente · 8 months
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ao3 bookmarks wrapped (end of year) - interest survey
edit: try it out here!
Presents a summary of your stats from your bookmarks via some colourful graphs - only needs your html data uploaded. Completely automated, requires no programming knowledge, no use of dynamic web scraping, entirely cloud hosted, and your data is only stored privately on your google drive.
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^ graphs above are script generated
sound like fun?
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