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#she's so important to me
tenrose · 7 months
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Donna Noble, you're the most important woman in the whole of creation.
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beanghostprincess · 5 months
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I think about this card of Pudding every day of my life. Sanji behind her. Her personality being split into pieces around the frame. He eyes sparkling. Crying. Holding her memories tight. I am so not normal about her.
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Mist who has issues with being openly vulnerable.
Mist who's fiercly protective of the other ghouls.
Mist who sees so much of her young self in Dew.
Mist who spends hours just wordlessly smoking with Alpha, two worn out souls who refuse to burden others with what weights on their minds.
Mist who finds solace in sharing her love for music with Dew and then later Rain.
Mist who aches when she catches the longing in Dew's eyes whenever they sit by the lake, the way he runs his fingers against his closed off gills absent-mindedly.
Mist who's an artist with her bass, pulling melodies out of thin air and weaving notes together effortlessly.
Mist who's seen unspeakable horrors and is plagued with nightmares so vivid she often wakes up to a shredded bed and a face flooded in tears.
Mist with a fondness for Ifrit, teasing him endlessly whenever possible.
Mist who's snarky and witty and well aware she rubbed off on Dew.
Mist who feels useless whenever someone needs comfort, and yet still tries, wraps her arms around the person in need and holds on tight.
Mist who calls Dew "puddle".
Mist who's laugh is airy and soft and so very rare and precious.
Mist who's so very full of love she cannot bear it.
Mist who believes she's not deserving of the love she gets.
Mist who let Delta wrap her in his arms and try to convince her that she deserves every bit of affection she's offered.
Just...Mist.
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sinkko · 4 months
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Mandy
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seamayweed · 1 year
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EMILY CAREY as ALICENT HIGHTOWER
HOUSE OF THE DRAGON — 1x03: “Second of His Name” (2022)
[ID in ALT]
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mariko heterophobia moment
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valeriansunset · 11 months
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the tragedy of susan pevensie. susan pevensie, the girl who holds everything at arms length. susan pevensie, the girl who doesn't want to be hurt. to be exposed to the wonders of narnia, for her to fall in love with the beautiful country, to rule with her siblings, to have everything only for it to be ripped away. to have to return to a life where she felt like she was nothing, to be forced to be young again. susan pevensie, who watches the looks on the faces of her brothers and sister, at the awe of being back in narnia. susan pevensie, who can't be happy about returning to narnia because she knows that it will just be ripped away. from queen susan the gentle to just... susan. she isn't suprised when aslan takes her and peter away from the celebration. she isn't suprised when she's told that she can never return to the place of her dreams. all she feels is regret that she let herself fall again, by the wonders of narnia and who she is in narnia. cast out. her last connection to narnia, severed completely. she was forced to return to the other life, to be a schoolgirl instead of a queen. she pushed it all away, refused to feel the pain, refused to accept that she could never go back. thus she refused to believe that narnia was real. too good to be true.
susan pevensie was alone when she got the news of the train crash. and so she was alone forever; until the very day that she died.
and narnia became real then.
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dim20-stims · 10 months
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"Et tu, fruite?"
x x x - x 🎪 x - x x x
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ramming-stone · 3 months
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if I'd have spent my hard earned good fortune on flight hotel and tickets traveling to a different continent you best believe I won't be leaving the until they preformed NGVOT
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sophieswundergarten · 10 months
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Thinking Number Two Thoughts again...
Thinking about her being a kid who can see so much, but can't articulate it. Not that she's not smart, but it takes so much for her to get it out in words that "make sense" and are "acceptable" to other people.
People say she's cryptic and acerbic and mouthy when they don't care to get to know her, and privately she thinks none of these words are quite right, but she's long since given up hope of someone listening to her.
She has so much energy and so many thoughts and no one ever allows her to use them, so it's no wonder she expresses it in other ways. She's vivacious and excited and always racing around and flapping her hands and so full of ideas.
And the adults around her can't stand it
She's jittery and irritating and she can never sit still and she's always hungry for some unknown reason
So she learns to keep still. She learns to sit on her hands and hold her ideas in. She learns to be as negligible as possible and press her lips tight and listen when the grown ups tell her to be seen and not heard.
But she still has some defiance, a small petty victory.
If she won't be heard then she will be seen
Her favourite colour has always been yellow, and she works hard to find and incorporate every scrap of it she can. She learns to sew and to dye and to make the cheap, threadbare, standardized clothes she is issued her own. She is in the back of every classroom, absorbing everything and learning as much as she can. She is outside every meeting room and in every hallway that adults don't want her to be, listening in and forming opinions that she knows no one but herself will care about.
She was small, and that worked to her advantage. She could slip in doorways and hide herself away in cupboards and alcoves. When she started growing, she was presented with a bigger issue.
The first time she fainted she had been sitting on a low wall outside, swinging her legs and watching the leaves blow in the trees. She heard the call to come back inside and jumped up, only to find herself on the ground with an irate matron looking down at her.
Things only got worse from there, and the grown ups at each and every facility she got passed to had the same expression upon seeing her records. The other children whispered behind her back, either questioning why she received extra portions or mocking her for her seemingly constant dizzy spells.
She kept her head down and kept her mouth shut and her wardrobe grew ever more yellow. She could hardly sleep anymore, and when books were available she would sneak away and read all night. (Once she got old enough for the local store owners to accept her lies, she would work any time she could sneak away, saving up her own money to buy a slim volume or two that she treasured above all else)
Sure, it sometimes made her vision a little blurry, but at this point she was pretty sure that had more to do with the fact that the orphanage kitchens never seemed to have enough food lately.
She managed to contain all of her words and ideas and jitters and "oddities" to the nighttime. There, she was free. There, she could squeak and pace and flap her hands and recite snatches of things out loud and no one asked her to explain herself.
She was never sure how other people seemed to manage it. She was always exhausted from trying to obey all the ridiculous unspoken rules that were enforced during the day. But no matter how tired she was when lights out was announced, sleep would still somehow elude her. Better to be productive and capitalize on her precious few hours where she was free from observation than to lay as still as if she were being interrogated by yet another orphanage director and wait in agony.
One late evening, when she was on her way back from sweeping out the barber shop down the street (It had taken hours, but it was more than worth it when she counted the bills and saw she had the money to buy a new book and enough left over for an apple), she saw a flyer taped to a storefront window.
The title caught her eye, in bold yellow print: “ARE YOU A GIFTED CHILD LOOKING FOR SPECIAL OPPORTUNITIES?”
She noted that the flyer seemed to be addressing her, instead of whatever hypothetical adult may have been responsible for her. She appreciated being acknowledged, even if it was just by a piece of paper.
Walking over, she pulled the flyer down, studying it. The location it mentioned wasn't far away, and the date listed was tomorrow. She folded it and slipped it securely into her pocket.
Even if the strange test didn't turn out to be worth her while, she could probably stand to skip an afternoon of odd jobs. And it's not like the orphanage would miss her anyway
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jumpin--bean · 4 months
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Her frown lines, inability to shut up, and latent gambling addiction have captivated me
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rosenfey · 7 months
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I still think abt that anon who said reading my url makes them hear it in Tara's voice
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beanghostprincess · 3 months
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The return of my princess !!!
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cloysterbell · 2 years
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Dried grass packed with animal dung, burns forever.
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slippy-socks · 9 months
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losing my mind trying to design aurora
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lingeringscars · 29 days
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Episode still airing but layla is my best girl and I have a lot to say but I'll start with how important it is to her to know that people are safe.
Her mother died driving home. Her mother died when she was supposed to be safe, and layla has to live not knowing if that was an accident or not. Layla was brought to the edge of the same cliff when struggling herself and also with Carrie (at least I feel like this was confirmed? But regardless...not good memories).
It's incredibly important to layla to know her loved ones get home safe. She needs the got home safe text, and it needs to be in words because that's easier to see and hold onto than a reaction. It means they had to type it out. There's no room for interpretation. She is that friend who makes sure you get home safe even though she struggles with driving because of all her history.
She needs to know when they all do because she knows what it's like to think someone did when they didn't.
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