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#hey I’m back
cookiesandgrapess · 1 year
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mr keating would have set neil and todd up together wether it was through a seating arrangement or a project where they were forced to write about each other, if only they all just had a little more time together and i’m right
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jaunefleurwrites · 7 months
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I’m alive.
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What’s new about me? I got an internship in HR, and started my second year of college with more school year till I graduate. I’m trying to build up my CV so I can smoothly get a job after college. And other personal stuff I rather not share with the public.
To those who had sent me asks on how I’m doing and other things. Thanks for caring and it made me smile.
So throughout my silence and my busy schedule. I found the time to actually finish A World Without You, and all I need to do is finish the epilogue then edit it plus add more choices. I got an amazing and talented friend to help me in coding who I am very grateful for.
It’s good to be back and hope everyone is doing well in life.
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bumblebeezer · 1 year
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The Mandalorian is coming to Walt Disney World as a face character starting TOMORROW AND HE IS SO FINE AND FOR WHAT.
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LOOK AT HIM.
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puddingbliss · 6 months
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not now babe fortnite is fun again
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siren-drawing-stuff · 2 years
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THERE’S A PHANTOM IN MY OPERA⁉️⁉️
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magicshopaholic · 4 months
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Pulled a Kaya this NYE and got shitfaced but somehow I’m still at work
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dancingwiththefae · 2 years
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My only goal this weekend is to get the rosebud au to 25k and then try and post some more chapters
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Day 1,167
Silksong does not have a release date.
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I wonder how hard it is to swallow an egg whole
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metallatch · 3 months
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worst part of a doctors appointment is when you’ve been in the waiting room for 30 minutes listening to your doctor chat outside your door the entire time
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chiricat · 4 months
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me eat you whole
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imjusthella-gay · 6 months
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you're so cute, i wanna make you sit in front of a mirror while i touch you from behind <3 don't close your eyes or i'll stop! why are you so embarrassed? don't you wanna see what a pretty slut you are?
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greenlanternsucks · 1 year
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Do you think Weird Al would write a song about me?
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feartheoldblog · 6 months
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do you think their periods ever synced up
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luneariann · 4 months
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Doodle 🫶
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gardenofnoah · 4 months
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Katsuki tries on softness like a child trying on their mother’s clothes. Waddling in too big shoes and tripping over the hem of a shirt that wears more as a dress, he feels clumsy. He gets bashful when he catches you observing with mirth from the corner of your eye—he thinks it ought to be a private affair, this trying on of things—the way he waits for this vulnerability to settle onto his skin, and how it is only as patient with him as he is with it. It slips off his shoulders and falls off his waist and how frustrating it is to be done growing and yet, growing still.
And you, with your tenderness that slips over the shape of you like silk—he feels a bitter, burning envy that’s neither helpful nor justified but god, does it tear him up. He feels guilty about it, because to be the target of your heart’s gentle reach is no small achievement for him. But he doesn’t understand what he’s done to earn that. He doesn’t understand why you’d give something so precious away with no thought to the way it may wound you. You tell him he never needed to earn it, and he just wants to shake you.
But there is a whole list of things that Katsuki does not understand and he’s never been bested by the length of it before now. So he adapts to the challenge—and you are a challenge, though not in any way he’s familiar or comfortable with. You touch him gently and with none of the hesitation of someone whose fingertips have been nicked by his sharp edges. You press your ear to his heavy heart and you tell him it’s a beautiful sound. He doesn’t know what to do with that—but he knows, somehow, that if he’s not earned it then this is a gift, even if he doesn’t trust that it is one he will be able to keep.
He tries anyway—to keep you. He holds you to him—tight enough that you will not slip away, but gently enough that you know you could if you chose to. He steeps your tea for exactly the amount of time it takes to hear the little contented sigh that it’ll pull from you when it warms you how you imagined it would. In the evenings, you curl up over the length of his chest like a cat, and the weight of the plastic handle of your hairbrush in his hand feels heavier than it should. He pulls the rounded bristles over the crown of your head if only to feel you settle into him—he finds that his body yields, if only minutely, to make space for yours—and to hear you tell him that you love him. It’s not the first or the third or the last time you’ll say it but it feels raw like this, in this way, and he wonders if this is what your heart feels like all of the time. Swollen in your chest, foolishly exposed and soft, despite the ways that the continuous muscle contractions and the state of the world should have toughened it.
He’s not like you—he can’t just speak every observation of endearment he has. He can’t get his love to move freely outside of himself, to follow him like a shadow. Instead he finds it in his hands—in between the dip of each knuckle and embedded into the lines in his palms. He’s calloused with it—hardened by it in a way you are not, and he could never understand the way you’re prone to seeking out that roughness like it doesn’t scrape your skin.
“I love you.” Murmured to the sluggish, sorrowful beat of his heart, it chokes him up in a way nothing has ever. His thumb ghosts over the smooth dip of your temple and he notes the slip of your hair through his fingers, and he hopes you can feel the way it’s just pulsing under his fingertips for you.
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