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subversivecynic · 2 days ago
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Hiding behind lawfulness doesn't excuse evil
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cynfulworld · 2 days ago
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We need a little green in this feed for game day 💚🦅 Go Birds! 🦅💚
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accelldraws · 2 days ago
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kitty cat groovin'! 🐱🎶
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terrorcamp · 3 days ago
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Davechella #10: Edward Little
Bringing you a Little something for the weekend… Dave’s playlist this week is for Edward Little! 🎧✨
Listen here:
For last week’s Jopson playlist, Liam Garrigan chose "It Serves Me Right” by John Lee Hooker.
As always, you can help us to keep the party going by sharing your own playlists in the #davechella tag! 🎶❄️
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messymoonmad · 18 days ago
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We don't talk enough about Odysseus' departure from ithaca
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p1nkshield · 7 months ago
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Prompt idea: Danny has been attending Wayne family dinners for weeks now and he truly doesn’t know how he got this far
Danny has been without a home or a means to get food for a while because of either identity reveal gone bad or Dan timeline shenanigans. Either way he needs to eat. As a last ditch attempt Danny tries to attend/infiltrate a Wayne family dinner. He’s seen the Wayne kids around Gotham and he’s sure that he could look and act the part enough to get in the door and out with some bread rolls at least.
Was it his best idea? No.
But he sure as sugar ain’t firing on all cylinders rn.
And Bruce already has a gaggle of blue eyed, black haired children.
What’s one more?
Batfam of course notices immediately when a whole new kid shows up, grabs some miscellaneous pieces of food and then prattles off some excuse about “not being that hungry.” (Clearly a bald faced lie) And that they were “Going to the library to study for finals, bye Dad!”
1. No one skips out on family dinners. Even Jason was here.
2. Alfred sets the table for everyone ahead of time and the kid had no place to sit.
3. Nobody in this house studies anything beyond case files.
4. Nobody in this house calls Bruce Dad.
Danny thinks he is suffering from success. No matter where he is in Gotham someone picks him up and insists he’ll be late for family dinner which is unacceptable.
Alfred just wants to feed the boy.
The batkids are amused by his efforts to look as though he’s been here all along.
Bruce is drafting adoption papers as we speak.
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kickbutts-singsongs · 6 months ago
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Shinsou with his hair down ‼️
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fanmailfromaflounderx · 2 days ago
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🫶😘🙌💜✨️🦋🍀🙏🥰💋
Louis Armstrong - What A Wonderful World (1967).
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artsbysmarty · 4 months ago
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This came to me in a dream and it felt like the closest thing to a commandment from God
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hyunpic · 5 months ago
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HYUNJIN for ESQUIRE KOREA & CARTIER
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jisatsu-draw · 4 months ago
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skateironicallycantskate · 21 hours ago
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I’m witnessing something beautiful guys
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days of the week
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lylahammar · 2 months ago
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man I know I shouldn't jump in on Wicked discourse but I keep seeing people calling Glinda the "villain" of Wicked and it's driving me nuts because I really don't think it's as simple as that
imo Glinda's story is a very Shakespearean style tragedy about a white feminist (liberal) politician. Her hamartia is her desire to be accepted by the oppressive ruling class, while her internal conflict is her struggle to be perceived as "good." She was influenced just enough by her marginalized activist friend to feel crushing awareness of her own place in the fascist system, but they were separated before she was able to fully reach self actualization and pursue a more fulfilling goal. Her tragic downfall is that she got exactly what she thought she wanted, but through her incomplete character arc she found that it was actually cold and hollow and lonely. Yeah she's a shitty selfish person and she dug her own grave but she's not the villain, she's the tragic anti-hero
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blorbologist · 4 months ago
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getting caught leaving by her brother?
a small price to pay for the best tits in Tal'Dorei
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imujings · 1 month ago
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[j.ww] say my name
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synopsis. | a snowstorm has hit your city, the surprising cold front making it hard for anyone to go anywhere. good thing you and wonwoo are already busy with… other things.
♯ pairing(s). | jeon wonwoo x gn!reader ♯ genre(s). | suggestive (MDNI) & fluff ♯ wc. | 1.1k ♯ warnings. | making out, cursing, wonu calls gn!reader pretty, handsy!wonu, lil bit of sub!reader, lil hair pulling, some grinding, lip biting, pet names (baby)
jay's musings. | m.. making out w wonu during a snowstorm mfqwkdjfjf,,, ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) … (ty @wheeboo for beta reading <3)
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Outside is the picture perfect shot of a winter wonderland. Snow blankets the streets of the city, your high-rise apartment giving a breath-taking view of the twinkling lights as people begin to wind down from the day’s escapades.
A snowstorm had taken your area hostage in the middle of the day, and shivering figures could be seen frigidly walking along the sidewalks in a hurry to get home, clearly eager to get out of the cold and uninviting environment.
Inside your cozy space, however, is an entirely different atmosphere.
The only light on is the Himalayan salt lamp sitting on a shelf some ways away, its warm orange lighting draping the room in a rich honey glow. Music drifts in from your bluetooth speaker atop the kitchen island; a NIKI song, no doubt queued by Wonwoo from your shared playlist. There’s a buzz in the air, thick and heavy, like a weighted blanket.
It started out innocent enough, cuddling on the couch and absentmindedly watching the snow outside fall. In moments like these, there was no need for words between you and Wonwoo; you both were simply content with the comfortable silence, finding the presence of the other enough of a joy in life. Sometimes, though, the two of you would mumble quiet reassurances to each other, words of affection passed between the two of you like cherished high school notes, your lips idly finding their way to the other’s.
As the flurries turned into a curtain of white flakes, you and Wonwoo were in the middle of a particularly… heated kiss, with you breaking it to breathlessly (and teasingly) ask if he’d like some tea. His eyes, half-lidded and dark behind his fogged-up glasses, followed you out of the living room area. Your taunting gaze didn’t miss the tent in his grey sweatpants.
When you came back from turning on the stovetop, a shit-eating grin on your face, you were greeted with silence. Biting your lip to hide your smile at his obvious irritation, you open your mouth—only for Wonwoo to drag you into his lap, taking his glasses off and fumbling to place them on the side table, before kissing you fiercely.
That was all some time ago. You aren’t too sure how long it's been since then, but a part of you doesn’t really care anymore, too preoccupied with other matters. Such as the man whose lap you’re sitting in.
Your thighs straddle Wonwoo’s, him having gone back to kissing you lazily, as if he had all the time in the world. You suppose he did, given that his early morning schedule tomorrow was cancelled. Your thoughts drifted to profusely thanking the inclement weather for this pop-up opportunity to get lost in him, lips slowing against his. He seems to notice your attention leaving him, the grip of his fingers on your chin tightening, and any coherent thoughts immediately leave your mind as he softly bites your bottom lip.
You whine, cheeks flaming at his touch. “Wonu…”
“Hm?” is his only reply, hands sliding down to rest underneath your hoodie, teasing the waistband of your sweatpants.
A soft, hushed moan falls off of your lips. Your eyes flutter close and you hide your face in his neck, the rumbling of his laugh only making the fire in your lower stomach burn hotter. Wonwoo’s hand, warm and calloused, cups your cheek and brings your mouth back to his.
Kissing Jeon Wonwoo was as easy as breathing. If you could have this as a full-time job, you would take it, no hesitation, and become the richest person in the world. His lips are soft and plump against yours, tasting sweetly of the peach-flavored lip balm you keep in your nightstand. Every time one of you pulled back in the slightest, the other’s lips chased after, shiny and bitten and longing for more.
His other hand is still running along the waistline of your pants, sometimes dipping underneath to snap the hem of your underwear against your skin. You yelp, but he only smiles against your lips, squeezing the fat of your hip gently.
“Relax, baby,” Wonwoo murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”
And you let him, your fingers desperately scrambling to find purchase in the hairs at the base of his neck as he gains control. His hand on your cheek disappears again, grabbing onto your hips as he helps you grind into him. The man’s head tilts back a bit, a groan spilling from his lips from the friction, and you trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck. 
“C’mere,” he whispers, pulling you closer until you’re somehow flushed even more against him.
Even through the layers of clothing, you feel the warmth of his skin, your fingers further tangling themselves in strands of his hair. His breath is hot against your skin, pressing a sweet kiss to the apple of your cheek. You melt into him with a sigh leaving you. He knows exactly what buttons of yours to push. You adore him for it. Mind quickly turning into mush, he plants another kiss to your other cheek, a saccharine promise, before tugging your bottom lip between his teeth yet again and biting. Hard.
“Wonwoo!” your voice, high and needy, seems to invigorate him; he moans, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “Wonu, please…”
“Sounds so pretty, saying my name,” he sighs, tone low and gravelly. “Keep going, baby. Feels so good.”
He’s everywhere. All at once. His hands are traveling up and down your sides, fingers making your skin tingle and burn with the brightest fires. Your brain is foggy, unable to think of anything other than the feel of his tongue swiping against yours and his hips bucking up right where you need him, hard and heavy in just the right way. Something in your stomach starts to burn, coiling with a pressure you know all too well, your telling whimpers being muffled again and again by his lips. One particular and delicious drag of his hips against yours awards him with a beautifully choked sob. If he keeps going, just like that—
The wail of the kettle startles away the fog in your brain.
You pull away, panting, lips swollen and hair disheveled. The blue throw that’s been teetering on the edge of the couch finally falls to the floor in a heap from the sudden movement. Your eyes are wide with alarm, but Jeon Wonwoo just stares at you as if you’ve gone and hung up every star in the damn sky.
“Wonwoo! The tea!”
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