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#Ten Years Together
jonniquidd · 3 months
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I know it’s easy to blame your partner for your own personal shortcomings. I’ve done it. They’re right there. They know all your faults and weaknesses. Why didn’t they stop you? Why didn’t they help?
You need to acknowledge these things too. You still ended up in whatever position you’re in now, even with your partner’s support… they are not responsible for you. You are. Even if they love you. Even if they trust you. Even if they are there for you every day! You are responsible for yourself. Support doesn’t equal responsibility. Own yourself. Own your happiness, weakness, and faults. I’m glad I have a man that loves me. I’m glad I have a life worth living!
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cdchyld · 2 years
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Just added to the Vintage shop!
~ The Best of Peter, Paul and Mary (Ten) Years Together LP Vinyl Record (1970)
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yujateaandpi · 10 months
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hold on I’m going to be emo about Digimon for a moment. The whole essence of the franchise is “my good weird talking dog loves me soooo much and all they want is to live peacefully by my side but when my life is threatened (which is often) they transform into an immensely powerful being just so they can give their life up for mine. And sometimes they do and sometimes they are reborn but other times they do not come back and there is no way to repay or fill their loss. And sometimes I betray them but they will forgive me forever no matter how I mistreat them. And sometimes they forget who I am but they will never stop following me because that love doesn’t go away. All they want is to stay small and get head scritches and snacks but the world gets threatened literally every day so they’re always fighting for me. We live in two different worlds and they can’t always be next to me but they’ll wait. They’ll wait years and even when I’m older and have changed they’ll know who I am. They don’t understand why I’ve changed but in their eyes, I’m still the same child.”
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umbrellascribbles · 11 months
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that’s my basket of kittens right there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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inheroes--wetrust · 3 months
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i just had to steal this from twitter because this is the funniest fucking thing ive ever seen in my life. the MOST divorced couple of all time.
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felsicveins · 6 months
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Art for this lovely fic 💚 💙
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scumvillainess · 2 months
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au where the entire plot of pidw gets derailed when shen qingqiu shows up with a baby and announces to the rest of the world that yue qingyuan got him pregnant.
(i think there’s a fanfic where sqq babytraps yqy but i just can’t find it for the life of me)
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expelliarmus · 1 year
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i dont go on tiktok too often since I know my brain does the time blind, someone fucking tell me why my algo is serving me up doomed boston yaoi (damon/affleck) like the fuck
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hobbitinthetardis · 2 years
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broke: it's christmas eve
woke:
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moderndaypandora · 2 years
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The LAYERS needed in a modern/human Dreamling au.  Some level of Endless family dysfunction, obviously.  Hob's family can be be dead or not, it's all good. Are they old enough to have individually gained the awareness they are off-puttingly intense and should hide it a bit at first, or still in that "no, why would I need to Elsa this" stage?
Option A is both of them trying to play it cool, like "don't scare him off" except they so badly want to go from zero to sixty.
(Death and Desire have ruthlessly drilled Dream with flashcards about how to react appropriately in situations.
Desire: it's your one-month anniversary, what do you do?
Dream: [hesitantly] NOT propose?
Desire and Death, conferring, because that's technically correct but the delivery was suspect.
Death, encouragingly: Good start. And?

Dream: a nice dinner and maybe a walk?
Desire: well done!
Death: and for a three-month anniversary?

Dream: give them a key to my flat.
Desire: [airhorn] NO. RED CARD.)
Option B makes them the classic anecdotal "my grandparents got engaged within seven days of meeting each other and still are happy together".
(Death, rubbing her temples: so you met this guy--
Dream: Hob
Death: -- Hob, and within 1 day you gave notice to the Registrar's Office and figured out the best day to get married. And Hob agreed to this?
Dream: NO.
Death: oh thank go-
Dream: Hob SUGGESTED this.
Death: . . .
Dream: are you going to be a witness or not?
Death, 29 days later in the Registrar's Office, to Hob's witness: Is he sane?
Johanna Constantine, drinking heavily from a large flask: unfortunately yes, by all legal definitions.
Death: fuck
Johanna: [passing the flask over] if your brother's even a tenth as intense as Hob, they'll be fine. Probably.
Death, brightening: Is Hob that bad?

Johanna: You know how sometimes you meet somebody and think "oof, they're a bit much, best give them a wide berth"?

Death: yeah.
Johanna: Hob's like a camouflaged hole in the ground of muchness. Except he's done the hole up all nice and he knows that sometimes you just want to be left alone in the hole to sulk and rattle the spikes for a bit, and occasionally get a F&M hamper tossed in.
Death: [hmmmmmmm'ing approvingly]
Johanna, morose: the bastard.
In the background, Hob and Dream are pressing their foreheads together and basking in each other's presence)
#dreamling#the sandman#it's underappreciated how many red flags hob probably is buried under his amiable exterior#he looked at dream of the endless and went 'yeah'#not even as a 'i can make him better'#very much as a 'i can vibe with his current state and frankly even if he was worse i'd still be like that's my husband [shrug emoji]'#'what am i supposed to do? i knew who he was when i married him'#everybody around them: [extremely done with their shit] STOP ENABLING HIM#hob: he's my goth sweetheart#dream's entire family: he's ten sulking cats in eyeliner and a dramatic coat#hob: i know :D i love him!#johanna constantine is like 'hob's insane'#and everybody's going 'oh no don't be so mean he's just a little boring next to dream'#johanna: he saw dream being dream and went 'i need to stamp my name on him. how do i permanently tie us together'#johanna: he'd never safety pin a condom but i can just see the gears turning in hob's head about how to get to spend more time with dream#johanna: just radiating smug contentment over his insane wet cat#hob: i cannot wait to spend the next 60 years with that man#hob: and ideally die in our sleep together still holding hands#death and johanna: [staring at him over their fourth round of drinks]#dream: [heart of eyes and pink of cheeks]#dream: we should never not be holding hands#hob: okay but what if occasionally we stop holding hands just to then appreciate the feeling of starting to hold hands again#dream: [mulling] acceptable#death and johanna could probably start an entire benefriends or actual romantic relationship entirely based on judging dreamling
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justaz · 2 months
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oh fuck merlin following after arthur for five seasons, at his heel following him into every battle, every fight, every quest without regard for his own safety. arthur dying on the shore of that damn lake and merlin dying with him but his body remains. arthur goes to avalon and merlin is forced to stay on earth. merlin can’t follow arthur this time. this is one journey merlin and arthur can’t take together. two halves split and kept apart for over fifteen hundred years. goddamn it. these fucking assholes never fail to make me cry. i hate them i hate them i hate them i hate them
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justaboot · 11 months
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“Donald hates Scrooge/had a cold relationship with him” Donald forgave him he literally forgave him, ten years and all it took was ONE trip for Donald to move their entire life back into the mansion. He was kicking and screaming going to kill Scrooge for taking the boys out and it took TWO MINUTES watching Scrooge help Dewey solve a puzzle and he hauls them home. The kids find out about the spear and they tell him they’re moving out, he goes and then Donald tells them their family has been apart for too long he LOVES that old man “Della had a special relationship with Scrooge and Donald didn’t” shut up shut up shut UP
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loquaciousquark · 3 months
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when will eppie hawke and fenris meet tavish and astarion? (:
"And anyway, it won't be that bad. One last little Fade rift. We'll barricade it up as best we can, send a message to Skyhold, go home, and—"
One of the craggy footholds crumbles away beneath Hawke's foot, and it's only Fenris's quick hand that saves her from a plummet back down the side of the barren mountain. "Hawke, please."
"Please yourself. I said you didn't have to come."
Fenris throws her a longsuffering look, the flickering green lightning of the rift casting weird shadows over his eyes, but he doesn't let go of her arm until she's got both feet on solid ground again. "Just seal it and let this be done."
"My heart's only desire, lover," Hawke says, smiling, just as another pair of voices rises from the other side of the rift.
"Careful—careful! It shocks like the entire Hells are in there. Where's Gale?"
"Wherever Karlach dropped him, I suppose, with that little sprained ankle of his. No, I see them, they're almost here. Come away, darling. No need to get so dramatically close."
"This, from you?" says the woman, just as she and her fellow voice round the far edge of the rift. "Oh!"
"Well!" Hawke says almost at the same moment. Two of them after all: a short, slim woman with auburn hair pulled back in a low tail, and a tall, lithe man with hair as white as Fenris's and eyes that gleam like rubies. The man has a dagger drawn already, a thin smile playing over his face; the woman's fingers rest on her sheathed rapier, but her gaze is open, friendly. Hawke plants her staff on the rocky ground in as welcoming a gesture as she can manage. "Fancy running into someone like you up here of all places."
"I could say the same," the woman says. The green rift, still hanging between them and stretching a good twenty feet into the sky, gives an ominous rumble. "Our wizard's been fretting about magical disturbances along the city's borders for weeks. He finally traces the source to this location, and here you are at the heart of it. I'd like to believe it's coincidence."
"Alas," Hawke says, "one of my greatest faults is a terrible habit of being around when things begin. Fenris can attest to that better than most." She lays a hand on Fenris's shoulder, but he's stiff as iron, eyes glued to the man's dagger, and he's reached back for the hilt of his greatsword. "I'm Hawke, by the way."
"Call me Tav."
"And I'm Astarion," the man says grandly, accompanied by a wholly unnecessary flourish of his dagger. "We're here to steal the world."
"Save it," Tav says sharply.
"Of course, my dear. Save the world. What did I say?"
Fenris makes a short, disgusted noise, but Hawke's pleased to see he's let go of his own sword. She doesn't think this Astarion is going to kill them—not easily, anyway—and she likes the look of Tav despite herself. Both of them quick on their feet, she thinks, both moving gracefully with an innate, self-assured balance. As Tav steps around the rift Astarion moves with her like water, without even needing to see where she's gone. It reminds her a great deal of Fenris and herself, actually, though Hawke would give an arm to trust her own feet that much.
Fenris, it seems, has come to similar conclusions, and he rolls his shoulders as he releases their tension. Even his voice has lost its nascent fury, which for Fenris is practically friendly in situations like this. "The rift is dangerous. We will guard it until the Inquisitor can seal it permanently. Be on your way."
"Inquisitor?" drawls Astarion with that same, thin-lipped smile. "Sounds like someone from dear Shadowheart's former enclave, don't you think?"
"I don't think they're Sharran," Tav says. "Are you?"
"What a speculative look you've put on," Hawke says, delighted. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. Unless you'd like me to be Sharran, in which case, I most certainly am and in fact have always been."
Both Fenris and Astarion roll their eyes—hilarious in its own right, but heightened by the clear antipathy still remaining between them. Fenris sighs. "Hawke—"
The rift explodes.
Green lightning shatters over the rocky cliff. The rumble bursts into a deafening roar; the faint breeze that had been dancing around them sweeps up into a hurricane. The air cracks and snaps with a sudden smell of ozone.
Hawke throws her hand over her eyes. She can't see—the wind tears her hair from its bindings and she can't see past the brilliant flashes of blazing green and she can't hear— "Fenris!"
Someone's fingers wrap around hers. She wrenches up her staff, calls for fire—for ice—for anything—but the rift has become a maelstrom and every scrap of magic sucks into the raging whirl before she can shape it. Her boots skid on the stone as she tries to brace against the inexorable pull, pebbles and rocks rattling along every step. She can't—the hand wrapped around hers has seized tight as a vise, but she's slipping anyway, and Maker, she can't—
A man's echoing voice, stripped bare of all artifice, wild with fear: "Tav!"
The wind dies. Not slowly, not gradually; it falls off like someone's upturned a glass over the rocky cliff, and Hawke's ears roar in the sudden silence. The wind is gone, and the rift is gone with it as if it had never been, the thunderous clouds that had been swirling above it already dissipating to glimpses of blue morning sky.
"Andraste preserve me," Hawke says, loud in the quiet, and she looks over to see Tav still crouched against the face of the mountain. One of Tav's hands clutches a dagger she'd wedged deep into a stony crevice; the other is still wrapped tight around Hawke's wrist where she'd pulled her away from the tempest.
No sign of Fenris. No sign of the other one—Astarion. A long white scrape in the stone marks where Fenris's sword had sought and failed to find purchase, disappearing at the precise place where the rift had torn itself open.
Gone. Gone, gone. Her heart hammers in her throat, and she indulges in thirty seconds of agonizing grief before she sets it aside, turns, and pulls Tav to her feet.
"Well," Hawke says at last. "Looks like it's just you and me, then. Ready for an adventure?"
"Yes," Tav says, her grip on Hawke's hand like steel, and her eyes blaze. "You and me. Let's get them back."
Everything hurts. Everything godsdamned hurts, and Astarion lets out a pained groan as he rolls to his back and drops his arm over his face. His ears ring like bells, and something twinges painfully in his left hip, and the inconvenient sun has decided to blaze right in his face and gods damn it, he'd known they ought to wait for Gale. Wretched wizard and his weak ankles. Wretched Tav and her complete inability—
"Tav," Astarion says, and sits bolt upright.
No Tav. Not even the dark-haired sorcerer with the wide smile. Just that taciturn warrior in leather and half-plate seated on a rock a few feet away, watching Astarion get his bearings, his greatsword slung across his knees and a deeply sour look on his tattooed face. The skies above them are clear and blue as a song.
No Tav. No Hawke. No rift. No plan, and no company besides an irascible stranger with the same sudden look of dawning horror.
"Venhedis."
"Shit."
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jmgangel · 9 months
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I just know Shuake would stay together no matter what. Akechi tried to kill him twice and that wasn’t a dealbreaker for Akiren. Nothing could break them apart.
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lesbianutena · 5 months
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the subtext of the suicide scene in rgu breaks me. i'm going to hurt you, and i would rather die than hurt you. i'm going to hurt you back, because i would rather die than leave you here. i love you too much to let you stay. i love you too much to let you go.
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