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#tina's writing
merrywaanderer · 7 months
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the return
aziraphale + crowley
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synopsis: set sometime post s2.
warnings: SERIOUS SPOILERS FOR GOOD OMENS SEASON 2. i am NOT joking. read at your own peril... also, contains angst.
word count: 700
a/n: this is a fix-it.
When he comes back, he’s yelling.
Sure, he has shouted, but never before like this. He left that to Crowley. But somewhere between all the heartbreak and the back and forth, his angelic patience has wilted away. 
No, not wilted. It has been worn away, like the sides of a canyon drowned by the rivers of time, and with all the pain and agony of the centuries, he has been worn down. 
With all the love of the only creature who has ever truly mattered to him, he has been torn apart. 
Torn between what is right, and what is right for him, because since the beginning of time itself, since the beginning of that little quadrant of the universe, Crowley is the only being who has made sense. Who felt right from the start, though Aziraphale was loath to admit it at the time — or indeed, up until now. But now he has returned, and despite the mutual anger, despite the pain — despite the ache in his chest which sucks the air away whenever he tries to breathe — he tries to push down his guilt and meet those lovely eyes he has known for always, because now, for always, this is the only thing which has been right in his existence. 
He and Crowley were ineffable from the start. He should have known. 
“But I didn’t leave you!” he screams, and it’s as if all the pain he has ever felt is poured into those words. “You left me.”
And here his voice breaks, and he looks away, because Crowley’s eyes are bare of their glasses, and Aziraphale feels like crying. 
“You told me you forgave me,” Crowley says into the silence, and his voice is oddly stilted, gravelly, how Aziraphale’s throat feels. 
Aziraphale swallows, wrings his hands. Takes that final, damning step toward Crowley. 
“I meant, I love you,” he says. 
He hears himself say it, as though he has been discorporated and is watching his last bodily words from afar. But at the same time he sees Crowley sigh and his shoulders slump as he shakes his head. His eyes are full of tears, and Aziraphale suddenly remembers how Crowley looked once, sitting at a pub, talking to his own watery image — I lost my best friend.
And then he strides, and takes Crowley’s face in his hands, and presses his lips against Crowley’s. He’s clumsy, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, only that this feels right, more right than anything Heaven could ever offer him, because Crowley is all that matters to him, and even they could not give him this. 
There is a moment frozen in time, there, where he fears this will be naught but a repeat of the first time, where Aziraphale tastes the salt of their mingling tears and wishes for death sooner than heartbreak. 
But then Crowley’s arms are around him, his slim form pressed to Aziraphale’s soft edges, and it is as though their Earthly bodies were made in mirror images of one another, because Aziraphale fits perfectly against Crowley, and Crowley against Aziraphale. 
And Crowley kisses him back like he is the first breath of life, like he needs him as much as Aziraphale does him, like he forgives him, like he—
“I love you, angel.”
The words are murmured against his lips, and Aziraphale’s breath stutters. He feels the vibrations more than he hears them, but his heart hurts a little less, and he wants those words again, so he pleads, 
“Say it again. Please.”
But he doesn’t need to plead, because Crowley is already saying it again and again and again, 
“I love you I love you I love you I love you,” and Aziraphale is melting into him, and Crowley is holding him up. 
“I love you,” Aziraphale says it again too, just so Crowley knows. Just in case he doubted — oh, how could he ever doubt, when Aziraphale looks at him like this?
But Crowley is smiling.
“I know,” he says.
He is smiling, as before. The nebula glitters in his eyes, and its radiance reaches out, cradles the other angel in the warmth of its glow.
This is all that Aziraphale has ever wanted. He runs his fingers through Crowley’s hair, soft and short, where once it was long. Crowley’s eyes twinkle down at him.
He has loved this being in every time and in all of space, and he is never letting him go again. 
good omens taglist: @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen , @ineffable-hubbiewubbies
send me an ask to be added to my taglist!
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gendameron · 1 year
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title: memoirs from the end of the world (erin's literal name for her journal bc she thinks she's hilarious) words: 100 summary: a few days after outbreak day. erin and her surviving family are hunkered down in their house before FEDRA starts mandatory evacuations.
taglist (ask to be added/removed): @statichvm, @denerims, @faarkas, @phillipsgraves, @gwynbleidd, @frozenabattoir, @thewildmother
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11/5/2013 — phoenix, az
now's probably a good time to start keeping a journal, huh? at least it'll help me keep track of things while the world literally crumbles apart around us.
mike hasn't said a word to me since
HOW COULD I LEAVE HER THERE? does she know i left her? or was she gone the moment she tackled me?
i think most of our neighbors are already in the quarantine zone. i texted
i killed my mom.
i'm packing up the truck tonight. might as well — only a matter of time before they start forcing us all to evacuate anyway.
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tubborucho · 5 months
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Tubbo, Tina, Badboyhalo – We have a shared longing: to devour the devine
I really wanted to make a web weave for Blue Co-Leaders, because I love them so much
taglist: @pastelvangelion @smallz-o @salineroses @dynamicworms @cindersnows @deadfishisyeq @snyland @missstrawberry @frubbotoxicyuri @haloberry @mobcharacter255 @thecardboardbutterfly @avianchorus @therearethornsinthisgarden @qtubbo
dm me if you want in or out of taglist
credits:
1. https://pin.it/lggo8sr
2. by Richey Edwards
3. “An Ideal Husband” Oscar Wilde
4. Lana Del Ray – Old Money
5. https://pin.it/5jXzs3r
6. https://pin.it/3ZgYR7e
7. https://pin.it/3EMWke5
8. Quote by Kristin Chang
9. https://pin.it/NIMdbA4
10. “A Self-Portrait in Letters” Anne Sexton
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afewproblems · 7 months
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Season 2 Halloween AU Part Four
Part One, Part Two, Part Three
A very big thank you to @strangersteddierthings for chatting with me today and being such a great sounding board for the next update!
Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...
***
"So…I have to ask," Eddie blurts out, cutting through the awkward silence that has fallen between them, "how were you gonna pick up your car before you ran into me?"
"I don't think it counts as running into you, if you were waiting for me Munson," Steve side steps the question expertly, flashing him a strange smirk that seems out of place. It falls after a second and twists into something pained.
"I was hoping Nance would take me," Steve says eventually, his voice soft, "which was pretty stupid in hindsight, 'specially cuz she was counting on me to drive her this morning, which--"
Steve cuts himself, snapping his mouth shut with a harsh click of teeth, he shakes his head and lifts his hand to run roughly through his hair.
"Doesn't matter anymore".
Eddie holds his breath, feeling the conversation begin to shift. It's as though he's stepped onto a tightrope and any wrong move could potentially send him over the edge.
He settles for nodding once, turning the key in the ignition.
Steve sighs and lets himself fall back into his seat, "I know you know already, the whole fucking school does, Billy saw to that," Steve gestures to his face, "say what you really want to ask". 
Eddie's fingers tighten around the wheel as he turns them out of the parking lot, fighting the immediate urge to say, 'why did Miss Priss throw it all away?' 
"You think I believe the rumours that come out of that shithole?" Eddie lies, keeping his eyes on the road this time.
He can feel Steve's unimpressed stare as they continue down mainstreet.
"Right, so you had no clue I was in detention?"
Eddie chews the inside of his cheek to fight the sly grin that begins to creep over his face, "Alright smart ass".
He hazards another glance at Steve as they begin to hit the residential area, he looks so different from the night before.
His limbs are loose, tension free, if it weren't for the heavy bags under Steve's eyes and the nervous tap of his fingers on the passenger door, Eddie would think he was finally relaxed.
"I knew a fight definitely happened, it's Hargrove," Eddie says slowly, carefully weighing his words, "but I typically prefer to hear the whole sordid story from the source before I pass any judgements, ya know?" 
Steve doesn't say anything as they continue driving through residential  the houses getting progressively bigger as they go.
"Did you," Steve pauses and breathes out slowly before shaking his head and lifting his face to meet Eddie's gaze, "is that offer for something stronger still open?" 
Eddie smiles, "I think that can be arranged". 
***
Eddie pulls over beside Tina Cline's house, wincing as the right front tire rolls over the curb and bounces the van as it lands on the street once more, startling a snort out of Steve. 
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Harrington," Eddie huffs as Steve shoots him a grin.
"Didn't say a word," Steve hums, unbuckling himself from the seat. Eddie watches as he opens the door and hops out. For a moment Eddie worries Steve will pull the same disappearing act from last night but he simply stops beside his car door and motions for Eddie to roll down his window. 
Eddie cracks his door open instead, "window's broken, what?" 
Steve rolls his eyes, "whatever Munson, you know the way? It's north on 5th and--"
"Then two more rights, yeah man," Eddie says with a laugh in his voice, "I dropped you off remember?" 
"Fuck off," Steve huffs out, he's grinning though.
Steve swings the Beemer’s door open and slides in. He turns on the ignition and flinches at the loud burst of music from the stereo, the volume obviously set from the mood of the previous night. 
'I want to know what love is, I want you to show me--'
Steve slams his hand against the console, cutting off the song with a harsh crack. 
The van is parked just behind the Beemer so Eddie can't see Steve's face, but his head drops down onto the wheel for just the briefest moment before he slowly lifts it, turns on his signal and pulls away from the curb. 
***
Steve beats him to the house.
He's getting out of the car, which is parked on the long driveway as Eddie pulls up to the street. 
Eddie hops out of the van, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulders, not bothering to lock it. Who would even want his shitty van among the BMWs and Mercedes parked down this street --hell, Eddie could have sworn he saw a Jag three houses down.
Eddie stops short of the lawn. The Harrington house is so different in the light of day, the strange emptiness that seemed to ooze out of the dark windows the night before has disappeared, leaving an ordinary house in its wake. 
"Well?" Steve calls out as he pulls a pair of keys from his back pocket and spins them once on his finger, "you coming or what Munson?" 
Eddie rolls his eyes and jogs to catch up to Steve who turns on his heel to stride up the walk. He stuffs the key into the deadbolt and swings one of the double doors inwards before shucking off his sneakers.
No shoes? Fucking rich people man.
Steve must notice Eddie's expression because he blushes and shrugs, "I know, I know, but my parents will be home for Thanksgiving this year so…may as well…"
He gestures around the sterile foyer with a tight smile, as though it explains everything. 
If anything, Eddie has more questions. 
Steve cuts off the thought by clearing his throat, "we should smoke outside, last thing I need is for you to burn a hole in the couch or something".
Eddie steps over the threshold and has to stop himself from whistling, were the ceilings always this high in this place?
He lifts his foot to unlace his left chuck, snorting at the strange little table in the middle of the foyer. A giant vase sits atop it filled with a mixture of what have to be silk flowers --no way they were real. He pulls the shoe off and tosses it to the side before lifting his right foot. 
Eddie never had the greatest balance so he hops back and forth with his right foot in the air before hopping as close as he can to the wall of the foyer and leaning back against it.
He finally gets the knot in his laces undone and throws the sneaker to the floor, dropping his right foot to the hardwood.
Eddie looks up to find Steve staring with a bemused expression on his face, he ignores the wide hazel eyes and removes the backpack from his shoulders -which can't have been helping the balance issue. 
Eddie unzips the top and yanks out the trusty metal lunchbox, sliding a wicked grin into place.
"You said something about outside?"
***
By the time they've settled, facing one another on a couple of pool loungers, the sun has begun to dip low, painting the patio and empty pool a warm glowing copper. It catches Steve's hair, which shines like gold in the dying sunlight, like some Autumnal Fae King--
Eddie wants to slap himself, suddenly thankful for the November wind that cuts through the backyard, forcing him to chillout.
He picks up the grinder from his lunchbox, unscrewing the cap to open it.
"You good with a joint this evening my good King?" 
He pours a handful of a new strain Rick let him try the other day into the grinder and starts twisting. It's not something he would typically share with anyone other than Jeff, but Steve seemed like he could use something a little more special tonight.
Eddie looks up after a beat of silence, "yo, Major Tom, you with me?" 
Steve's face is pinched, tilted towards the empty pool, "please don't call me that," he says quietly.
"Major Tom?"
Steve raises his eyes to meet Eddie's gaze, his mouth cuts a hard line across his face, the typical easy grin it usually houses is gone. 
"King-Steve," he runs a hand through his hair, letting the fingers linger to grip and pull, "I just, that's not who I am anymore, I don't--"
Steve swallows harshly, "that's all anyone could talk about this morning".
He drops his voice and octave, "oh, King Steve is so pussy whipped he let his girl fuck Jonathan Byers before she dumped him".
"Is that what Hargrove said?" Eddie asks quietly as he pours out a portion of weed onto a paper.
Steve shakes his head, "that was Tommy, but that wasn't why I hit him". 
Eddie nods, and lifts the joint to his mouth to run his tongue along the edge of the paper. Steve watches him from the lounger, his eyes follow the movement before he blinks and continues.
"Tommy and I had been best friends since we were five, he uh, he knows a lot about me," Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and chews the nail of his thumb briefly before dropping it back into his lap.
"Stuff I don't tell anyone, stuff he knows will hurt". 
Eddie nods, twisting the joint closed, he can kind of understand that, although the only person in his life that knew him like that was Wayne.  
And Wayne would never hurt him. 
Did Steve really not have anyone else like that in his life, someone he could tell anything to that wouldn't look at him weird or judge him. Someone safe.
"Anyway, Hargrove started in on me after that, but he's been fucking with me for awhile so," Steve shrugs again, "he saw his big opportunity here".
"Hargrove's been messing with you?" Eddie asks sharply as he pours more weed onto another paper. He lifts it and runs his tongue along the edge of the paper before twisting it into shape. When he looks up, Steve's ears have gone slightly pink and he's sitting strangely, slightly hunched and twisted.
"Yeah," Steve says after a moment, he clears his throat and straightens his back, "yeah, it's just been at practice so far, and I thought it was just because he wanted to one up me for my spot but," he shakes his head, "it's getting worse". 
"You know, I have a bit of a reputation around school," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching as Steve freezes and looks at Eddie with wide eyes.
"The Hellfire club is more than just the game we're playing, it's also kind of a sanctuary for kids that don't have anyone to lean on, we look after each other," Eddie continues, ignoring the way Steve relaxes slightly, "you wouldn't need to play or anything but if you need somewhere to sit at lunch now…" 
Steve looks at Eddie for a long time, his expression blank, guarded, "really? Just like that?" 
"Yeah man, besides I get to use my 'Mean and Scary Guy' persona on these fuckers so it's a win-win for me".
Steve grins, raising one skeptical eyebrow, "mean and scary?"
Eddie bristles a little bit at the questioning tone in Steve's voice and can't quite swallow the urge to snarl, "yeah I mean you looked plenty scared of the town freak yesterday". 
Steve winces and immediately starts to shake his head, inching forward in his seat so he's even closer to Eddie, their knees are almost touching.
"That's not, I wasn't," he stops and takes a deep breath, "I was upset about Nancy and it was so dark outside, the trees--"
"You afraid of the dark Harrington?" Eddie cuts him off, the lingering irritation still simmers in his voice as he coos. 
Steve just looks at him, there's something strange about the haunted expression on his face that makes the hair on the back of Eddie's arms stand on end. 
"Things happen in the dark, in the woods," Steve says softly, his eyes drift to the empty pool again. 
Eddie opens his mouth to ask Steve what the hell he means by that, when a voice shouts across the yard.
"Steve? STEVE?!" 
The sound of someone running through the grass has them both of their feet, the joints forgotten on the pool loungers. 
"Dustin?" 
A kid, he can't be more than twelve or thirteen, skids into the porchlight that has replaced the last copper rays of evening light, the sun fully set by now. The kid's blue eyes are wide underneath a mop of curly hair and hat, he's breathing hard.
"I need your help".
Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986 @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson
Part Five
and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic
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one-time-i-dreamt · 1 month
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Tina Fey wrote the Bible.
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cat-mentality · 3 months
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It's funny really, how much the children have taken from their adoptive parents.
How looking at them is something akin to looking in a mirror.
Richarlyson who has a little bit of every one of his parents. Pac's warm eyes, Felp's curly hair, Mike's smile. Richarlyson who loves building, who is curious and adventurous, who always has a witty remark in the tip of his tongue, who is so protective of those he loves, who has so much love to give.
Pomme with Pierre's smile and Baghera's eyes. Pomme who is fierce and clever, who loves deeply and selflessly, who will take charge of any situation and bows to no one, who stands strong even in the face of the worst adversary.
Empanada whose hair is a mixture of Bagi's and Mouse's, whose eyes are just like Tina's, who laughs and smiles like Niki, the same sharp teeth. Empanada who is kind and gentle and loving, who likes soft things and to take care of her animals, who loves her siblings and would do anything for them.
Sunny with Tubbo's smile, who doesn't recognize the features of her other parents in her face, she has Pol's warm brown eyes, Lenay's cherry red lips and round cheekbones, Slime's light brown hair. Sunny who clung to the person who loved her dearly, who is witty and hardworking, who looks at things and is never satisfied with how they are, who always wants them to be better, who never settles for scraps.
Pepito with Carre's bright green eyes, Quackity's dimpled smile, who doesn't recognize his hair color as matching with Rivers', who doesn't even know he and Mariana match with their glasses. Pepito with his love for movies and spiders, with his drawings and his bright smile, who likes Amarantos and helping people, who laughs and laughs at every little thing, a bundle of joy.
It's tragic really, how much the children have taken from their adoptive parents.
How looking at them is something akin to looking in a mirror.
Richarlyson who has never had a birthday with all his family together and unharmed by the world, Richarlyson who despite the best effort of his fathers has known tragedy as much as he has known joy. 
Richarlyson who puts a smile on his face, like his pai Forever, who hides his pain because he can’t think about burdening them with his feelings when he knows how much they have suffered, how much they keep on suffering, Richarlyson who knows they hide things from him to protect him and wants to return the favor, wants to give as much as they have given him. Richas who tries to be a beacon of light, who just wants to protect people, who wants them to be happy and safe even if that means putting himself in harm’s way.
Richas who smiles so brightly, who jokes even in the darkest moments, and that makes people forget he is only a child. Who is treated as older than he truly is, as stronger than he truly is, as if people don’t realize how fragile, how young he is. Richas like his pai Pac, trying to turn every dark moment into a joke in the futile hope that it will make things hurt less, that downplays every nightmare that comes his way because if he can joke about it, it couldn’t be that bad right? He is fine! Look at him, smiling and joking, and breaking down when no one can see him.
Richarlyson, who likes his pai Cellbit has a part of himself that he is terrified of. A darkness that spreads around his chest, that comes to light in bursts that leave him shaken and scared in their wake, Richarlyson who is scared of himself, who doesn’t understand where he come from, why those things happen to him, Richarlyson who is so much like the little boy Cellbit doesn’t remember being, the little boy Bagi has searched her whole life for. Richas who, just like his pai, tries to push that part away, as deep as he can, because he is terrified that it will cause harm to the people he loves, who will every single time choose to be the one harmed over them without thinking twice.
Pomme who was born with a target on her back and a weapon in her hands. Pomme who has had to fight for her right to exist just as much as she had to fight for the love of her parents, Pomme shaped by the eternal guilt of those moments where others had to risk their lives for her sake, marked by the initial rejection.
Pomme who thinks she must protect her sibling and her parents even if that means hurting herself, Pomme who would gladly, easily, set herself on fire for the sake of others. Pomme wh, like her dads Pierre and Antoine, hides her problems deep inside because she would never want to share her burdens and her pains with others, who wants to fix things herself without having to involve others.
Like her mother Baghera, who wants to protect everyone, who will spread herself thin trying to do the right thing, trying to keep her loved ones safe and happy. Pomme who loves without expecting the same level of devotion back, who loves even when she doesn't believe she will receive anything in return. A warrior out of need, made a survivor by the world around her.
Like her father Etoiles who finds comfort in holding a weapon, in fighting a battle. Pomme like Etoiles who looks at her loved ones and puts herself as their protector, who bases her worth on her ability to keep them safe. If she can't protect them, if she can't help them when they need, then what is her worth? Why would they love her if she failed in her only duty? Pomme like Etoiles who takes the burden on her shoulders because she cannot imagine she will be worthy of their love otherwise, because she believes it's what she needs to do even if no one would ever tell her so.
Empanada who doesn't fit.
Like Bagi, a stranger in a strange land, someone to whom people still look at with distrust sometimes, wrapped in the knowledge that at the end of the day everyone else has other priorities, others they will seek first, others they will always love more and at peace with it no matter how much it hurts. Empanada, like her mamãe, used to chase after ghosts of affection, clinging to scraps because for the most part of her life that is all she had.
Like Tina, hiding parts of herself in a desperate attempt to be loved. Chopping away the ugly bits, the things she believes no one wants to see, that no one would ever love, the hard parts, pushing it all away because she is terrified of what they will think of her if they see it. Empanada like her Eomma, who doesn't believe people will love her if they see the darkness inside of her heart, if they knew what she lived through before the Island.
Like Niki, still struggling to find her place, to feel like she is part of everything, feeling that she is always at the fringes of everything, never a part of whatever is happening.
Like Jaiden, the mother she never met. Haunted by the past, alone in her grief and her sadness because she cannot burden her siblings, who all have the same trauma, because they all need to heal even if she stays shattered because it is her job to protect them and she has failed too much already, because she doesn't believe others will offer her support since she is still a stranger to them, Empanada who doesn't know the woman who she shares so much with, who is still unsure if she will ever be accepted by her.
Sunny who clung to Tubbo with desperation because he was there, who tries so hard to be loved, to be accepted, to be trusted, who bases her worth in that. Sunny like her father, feeling like a stranger, feeling left out, desperately trying to carve a place for herself into the hearts of others because she is starving for love but cannot put those feelings into words, cannot bear the vulnerability of truly asking for it.
Little child who like her father never feels like she is enough. Sunny, who smiles brightly, who is happy and energetic, who acts as if she is the best because deep inside she believes she is the opposite. Sunny who takes rejection as a proof of her own failure to be loved, who puts on herself the burden because if they can love everyone else, if they can accept all the children but her, surely she is the problem right?
Sunny like Tubbo who shoves her insecurities as deep as she can, who pretends they don't exist unless she is with those she trusts the most because she wants to be strong, she wants to be good, she wants to be loved.
Pepito who is not as much of a mirror to their parents as they are a glimpse into the past, as to whom they used to be before the world crushed their spirits and mind. Pepito who is loved by people who hate themselves so deeply that they cannot help but hate them as well.
Pepito who just like Roier smiles no matter what is happening around them, who hides everything behind said smile, who doesn't want to let sadness cloud their vision, to damper their optimism, who clings to the good parts, not yet tainted by the betrayals and loss that changed the apa they never saw smile. Pepito like Mariana, like the man they have never meet, the father that is barely spoken of, who pushes pain and grief away, who laughs and ignores the bad bits because it would shatter them, like it shattered this ghost of a father.
Pepito who loves freely, carelessly, who opens their heart to everyone, Pepito who sees goodness even when there is nothing good, who trusts people, who wants to be exactly like this apa Quackity with his sad eyes, who believes they can fix people, that they can make them happy, that has hope that better things are to come. Pepito who will always put everyone else's happiness before their own.
Pepito, who is cursed with the love of people who know loss like an old friend, a constant companion, Pepito who is a ghost of siblings they will never know, forever in the shadows of their loss. Pepito who is loved by people who are just waiting for the moment the world will break Pepito's spirit, for the moment they, cursed as they believe themselves to be, will somehow destroy this child because their hands have proven time and time again that they are not made for softness, for protection. Pepito whose joy is a curse, an offense for people whose hearts cannot stand to be hurt more, who don't believe that goodness and purity can last.
The children are the mirrors of their parents, for better or worse.
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operationcaked · 1 year
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aged up designs that i made a bit ago :))
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brittie-frog · 28 days
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Today was brilliant:
- Bagi giving up her day off to celebrate Em's 100 days
- their outfits - I imagine it's something that drunk Tina asked for in the admin chat about a little special outfit for her
- Bagi flying, the dragon wings and the comments from Tina about it
- the Hatsune Miku statue... crying
- museum!!! So much bagi/breakfast family and Demon Lore!!
- Tina finally getting on, also in a hanbok, and mentioning she hasn't been home and Bagi having a moment of realisation of what she'd left (reminiscent of when she remembered leaving the date ask when she day Tina)
- them lying about Em picking up the string first to make her feel better but she's already smart and also she has chat open so she definitely knows it's the book
- Pepito getting the ritual and Roier (Doied?) Wanting to do it too and instead coaxing Pepi to pick up the money because he only had 3 coins...
- the money shots in front of the atm with warp stones and diamonds - definitely the Pancake Mafia
- the lightning strikes and Tina leaving and Em still holding out on telling her but saying that if she just waits for Tina to talk she'll never - this is a detective she's definitely figured it out like she said
The only thing that could have made it better was if Tina was streaming so we could see the convos she had with Em when Bagi left and the panic on her face when Bagi just went to buy her the warp stone but understandable she was short on time so no real point
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dvnieldraws · 6 months
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mreow
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Talking Heads reuniting yesterday after 20 years is the best thing I saw today
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thanotaphobia · 5 months
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ménage à quatre
or, missa runs into tina on the way to see phil. and pac. and mariana. and-
CROSSPOSTED TO AO3
Missa thinks he’s decent at being sneaky.
He at least doesn’t knock things over. Their new and improved underground base is well-lit despite the dark stone that makes up its walls, and Missa skirts the farms and chairs and chests with ease. Getting out isn’t so simple, but he’s nearly there. It’s nighttime, and while most people don’t always sleep through the night in this place, it’s easier to hide under the cover of darkness. Easier to get away with things, to see people. Missa also knows if he runs into anyone who isn’t his team or Phil that he’s absolutely dying, so going out at night is a necessary risk. Risk, because mobs, but once he reaches the meeting spot in the woods he and Phil had talked about, then he’ll be okay.
He misses Phil. With every aching beat of his heart, he misses him.
Missa hadn’t known how strong his feelings had run until they’d been separated like this. It was physically painful, like love had wrapped tendrils around his heart and gut, squeezing every time Phil pops into his head. 
And so the occasional midnight rendezvous must happen. It has to happen, because otherwise Missa thinks he would die if he didn’t get to see his husband in a relatively safe, stress-free space.
Careful not to catch the attention of any of his teammates, Missa creeps through the base and watches every step. He doesn’t think they’d crucify him for it, but he doesn’t think they’d like it either. People have become different, and fast. Personalities have shifted and everyone, Missa thinks, has gotten a little more ruthless. Even Missa himself thinks it’s affecting him– although he tends to isolate instead of lash out. He’s frozen to death on beaches more than once, staring out at the ocean lost in thought until his eyes had clouded over and he’d woken up in their base with fingers stiff from cold. Others, though. BBH has a look in his eye every time Missa sees him, a look that makes him skirt around the man like he’s got the plague. 
It’s unsettling. He hates feeling uncomfortable in what’s supposed to be a safe place. He hates sneaking around like this when he should just be able to see his husband whenever he wants– he hates it. 
But it’s fine. He’s nearly out, anyway. He enters the darkest part of his exit, a long corridor, and hurries forward. Just another couple steps and–
“Oh!”
All the air is forced out of his lungs, half from terror and half from the collision. He bounces backwards into the cold stone wall and shrieks, then shoves a hand over his own mouth to stifle the sound. Across from him, there’s a thud and someone gasps. Missa blinks into the dark.
“Missa?” Tina says after a second of silence. He takes into stock what just happened– a warm body bumping into his, shorter but strong, and the strong scent of tea leaves and cool soil in the air. Tina. Just Tina.
“Sorry,” Missa says out loud after a second, lowering his hand from his mouth. Tina laughs, and Missa can’t see her very well in the dark as he pushes himself up off the wall. “I didn’t mean to–”
“No, it’s okay!” Tina says. They’re both whispering, but even then each word sounds like a gunshot in the tunnel. It reverbs, echoing around them and twisting in the air like smoke. “I didn’t expect you– oh, man, I fell down and dropped my bag, can you–”
“Yeah, one second,” Missa says, getting her intent instantly and dropping to his knees to feel around for the knapsack. “You okay?”
“Fine, thanks!” Tina giggles, high and breathy. Missa’s hand knocks against fabric and he grasps it triumphantly. 
“Got it!” he says, raising his clenched fist into the air– only for it to come into contact with skin and bone, the crack echoing around them louder than their words had been.
Missa is almost impressed by how Pac doesn’t swear. He hears a thump as someone sits down, a soft hiss of breath, and then a long exhale.
“Oh my god,” Missa breathes, before he knows it’s Pac, “I’m so so sorry–”
“All good,” Pac grits out, and Tina gasps.
“Hey!” she says. “It’s like a party in here!”
“Are you bleeding?” Missa asks, and Pac mumbles an affirmative. The next thirty seconds is spent looking for a piece of cloth to hold to his nose, and they end up having to improvise with one of Tina’s shirt sleeves. “I’m so sorry,” Missa apologizes again. “Bro, bro, I swear I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t mean to, I was just getting Tina’s bag. I’m so sorry, man.”
“It’s dark,” Pac says, his voice slightly muffled and sounding as though he’s got a bad cold. “All good! All good, my friend.”
“What were you even doing down here?” Tina asks. She’s kneeling by Pac on the other side, and Missa has finally gotten used to the dark. They’re all mostly on the floor, staring around at one another– Missa can see the whites of their eyes, and that’s about it. It’s the strangest situation he’s been in for a while, honestly. 
“Well, I was trying to leave,” Pac says, sniffling once and grunting in pain. “But, ah– you were here first.”
“Wait,” Missa says, blinking as he realizes something. “Tina, why were you here–”
And then someone lights a torch, the spark and resulting flame causing all three of them to cover their eyes or cry out. Missa blinks back tears from the sudden brightness and glances back– standing a few feet away is Mariana, torch held up as he stares at the three of them with an indignant expression.
“The fuck are you bitches doing?” he asks loudly, and despite their various states of distress, Missa, Tina, and Pac shush him quickly. Mariana goes quiet, pressing his lips together before stalking forward and crouching beside them. In the torchlight, Missa can see the blood on Pac’s nose now, and winces. “Why did none of you have a torch?” Mariana asks.
Tina hums. “That probably would’ve been a good idea.”
“Why are you here?” Pac asks. “Did you hear us?”
“No,” Mariana scoffs. “But I should’ve. I was going to see Slime–” He clearly didn’t mean to say it– his eyes widen a fraction and he snaps his mouth shut quickly, staring at the three of them before clearing his throat. “I meant, I was going to kill Slime.”
“We all know what you did in the fountain,” Pac says, his voice nasally but dry. “You know?”
Tina breaks out into big, bubbly laughter, heaving for air between gasps of breaths. She giggles, high-pitched and frantic, and Missa can’t help but snort either, covering his face with one hand. He can see Mariana between the bars of his fingers, and the way his face goes a bright, brilliant red.
“Yeah, well–” Mariana only stutters for a moment, composing himself and snapping. “What are you three doing anyway?”
“I was going to see Bagi,” Tina practically wails. She’s on her back on the floor, hair spread like a halo around her, and Missa thinks it’s a miracle she hasn’t passed out from laughing yet. Pac is laughing too, still pinching his nose but grinning and cackling. Missa bites his lip, then drags his hands down his face and comes out with the truth.
“Phil,” he says, cursing his husband’s name into his palms. “Phil and I–”
“I won’t say who I was going to see,” Pac says proudly, and Tina stops laughing at that. She sits up and points a finger at him. 
“We all know about Fit, Pac! We know! Nothing is a secret!” Between her words she hiccups giggles. “This is so dumb, we’re all so dumb!”
Missa leans back against the stone wall of the tunnel and slumps, his knees slowly giving out until he’s sitting fully on the cold floor and staring at the rest of them slowly losing it. Tina and Pac are holding onto each other, giggling and rocking back and forth slightly, while Mariana is trying his hardest to look disgusted with them and notably failing to hide a smile. Missa lets out a breath and knocks his head back, covering his eyes with his elbow and snickering.
“Well, I’m going,” Mariana finally says, stepping over Missa’s outstretched legs and past Pac and Tina. He’s still got the torch in hand– the shadows against the wall stretch and warp with his movement, making the whole tunnel feel unsteady. He turns back. “I have a date to keep.”
“Oh gosh, so do I,” Tina gasps, finally getting a hold of herself and scrambling for her bag. Missa nudges it closer to her with one foot and she grins at him. “Thanks! Don’t want Bagi to be waiting up for me.”
“Have fun on your date,” Missa says, mouth a little dry. “Dates.”
“You too,” Tina chirps, standing up and slinging her bag over her back.
“Wait, I need to get up too,” Pac says, and he and Missa stand together, gripping each other’s shoulders and arms as they do. His nose has, for the most part, stopped bleeding.
“Sorry again,” Missa says apologetically. 
Pac grins and shakes his head. “No biggie.”
“Are you coming?” Mariana calls. The shadows have gotten longer and the light dimmer as he’d started walking away, but he waits now near the end of the tunnel, looking back at the three of them with mild irritation. “Or can I ditch you all yet?”
“Oh be quiet Mariana,” Tina says, catching up with him easily. They both wait for Missa and Pac, which makes something warm blossom in his chest where the cold has sat so easily the past few days. “We can go together now, as long as we stay away from Bad!”
“That would be not good,” Pac mutters, glancing back. Missa winces. 
“We’ve gotten this far,” he says.
“This far without waking the guard dog,” Tina says, and they all make their way the last little bit out into the faint light of the stars. Around them the air is cold and crisp, and it takes Missa’s breath away. For a minute they all stand there, taking in the sight of the moon glistening across the oil-slick sea, light refracting off the ice and snow and making the whole world a soft, delicate shade of blue. Even the light from Mariana’s torch doesn’t last, barely casting out onto the pockmarked and scarred beach ahead of them.
“Well,” Missa says, equipping some gloves. He doesn’t want to stand here for too long. He wants to see Phil. The ache is back, something about the sight in front of him and the people beside him making his heart ultra aware of Phil’s absence. He thinks of Phil, worrying about him being late; he thinks of Phil laughing when he hears what delayed him. “See you in the morning, guys.”
“Hey, Missa?” He glances over at Mariana, who sticks his torch down into the sand and shoves his hands into his pockets, nonchalant. “Do you want to go together? Might be easier. Mobs and stuff.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea! Pac, let’s go together!” Tina chirps, and Pac nods with a smile. She grabs his hand and he lets her.
“Sure,” Missa says, a little startled. “That’s– yeah, yeah. Okay.”
“Okay,” Mariana says. “Bye, guys.”
Pac and Tina wave as they deploy their separate boats, hopping in beside one another and parting into the cold, choppy sea. Mariana drives, Missa sitting passenger, and he stares out over the ocean as they leave their team base behind them in the cold. When he looks over at Mariana, the other man is staring out across the horizon in front of them, hands gripping the wheel of the boat and a strange look on his face. When he notices Missa looking, he glances over and catches his eye.
“What’s the matter?” Missa asks.
“Bad Boy Halo totally was watching us leave,” Mariana says, dead serious, and that is finally what sends Missa into hysterical laughter.
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merrywaanderer · 2 years
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hey all, i swear i am in the process of writing some fics, but life got very suddenly quite hectic, so i am taking a lot longer to get writing done than i intended.
hopefully it won't be much longer x
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gendameron · 1 year
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🧙⚜️⚖️👺 for alex & tess!
okay this is gonna get weird, and by weird i mean that some of these are drabbles and some of these are normal headcanons so just...bear with me here. i'm just going with what i'm feeling!
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🧙I - The Magician : Making a deliberate decision, taking action, experiencing a sensation of power, deep thought.
she doesn't care who these 'wolves' are, they're not getting away with this. and if it meant it was just her and deacon going to washington, so be it.
🔱 III - The Empress : Luxury, sensuousness, tapping into the natural order.
alex is usually pretty good about keeping things minimal…until it comes to CDs. more specifically, CDs she had or wanted before the outbreak. she has a big plastic bin filled with them stowed away in a closet in her jackson house, despite not finding a working CD player until after her second daughter olivia was born—or after she’d been settled in jackson for about a decade.
⚖️ VIII - Justice : Fairness, impartiality, taking responsibility, weighing options, accepting consequences, understanding coincidences.
alex likes to think of herself as a fair, democratic person…and she is! mostly. though she has an unfortunate habit of making several exceptions for those who have wronged her or the people closest to her.
👺 XV - The Devil : Entrapment, bondage, being stuck on the material plane, ignorance, hopelessness, depression, doubt, loss of hope.
all it took was one slip-up; one person let out of mandatory quarantine too early—well, that and alex letting deacon talk her into staying up north in the cascades for an extra week—for everything mike worked for to fall apart. she was selfish, and a whole settlement paid for it.
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🧙I - The Magician : Making a deliberate decision, taking action, experiencing a sensation of power, deep thought. +👺 XV - The Devil : Entrapment, bondage, being stuck on the material plane, ignorance, hopelessness, depression, doubt, loss of hope. (yes i know i'm cheating but i wanted to actually POST something for once)
"joel, just fucking go."
it doesn't quite sink in until the he shuts the door behind them, and tess can hear ellie's voice on the other side: this is it.
she's terrified. she's relieved. she wants to laugh. or does she want to cry?
🔱 III - The Empress : Luxury, sensuousness, tapping into the natural order.
tears of joy had always been a paradox to tess. she had never in her life been so happy she cried…until this moment. her first hot shower in almost a decade, and she's grinning so wide her cheeks are sore and the tears disappear into the spray before joel can poke fun at her for it.
⚖️ VIII - Justice : Fairness, impartiality, taking responsibility, weighing options, accepting consequences, understanding coincidences.
she is judge and jury, joel is executioner…unless otherwise incapacitated.
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tubborucho · 1 month
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Jungryeok fits in here, on the QSMPreg island, so well!!!!
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afewproblems · 7 months
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Season 2 Halloween Party AU Part Two
You can read part one here!
***
Eddie can't help but steal glances at his passenger as he starts the engine while Steve buckles himself in. 
A streetlight flickers overhead bathing the front seat in strobing gold light; it's so distracting Eddie nearly misses the way Steve's hands tighten around the seatbelt, a slight tremor running through them.
The other man looks exhausted but incredibly on edge, his back straight and shoulders stiff. Eddie has to stop himself from rolling his eyes as Steve scans the dark street ahead of them. 
If he's so embarrassed to be seen with the town freak, he can just get out and walk home.
Eddie almost says as much, but shakes the words off and flicks the small Snoopy bobblehead on the dash, before reaching for the edge of the passenger seat.
He feels Steve flinch at the sudden movement as Eddie braces himself on the seat to look out the rearview window. 
Eddie tamps down the flicker of irritation that burns in his chest, he hadnt taken Harrington for a Bible thumping asshole that would believe the rumours circling Eddie, but then again, Eddie didn't really know Steve. 
Eddie backs out of the space slowly, no need to wreck the paint even more by hitting some suburban moms stationwagon after all. He shifts into drive and pulls away from the street and the flashing lights of Tina's party behind them.
Steve is quiet as they drive, and as the sound of the dull throbbing bass and party goers begins to fade into the background, Steve slowly begins to curls inwards, tugging his arms around himself.
Eddie's eyes flick between Steve and the road, he's still not looking at Eddie, just out the window with a blank expression. It's the most quiet he's ever seen King-Steve, it's unsettling.
But, the more Eddie thinks about it, that really isn't true.
King-Steve hasn't been King of anything for awhile now, Tommy Hagan has seen to that. 
Steve has been keeping to himself more and more, preferring to hang out with Wheeler and,  surprisingly, Byers of all people. 
Eddie isn't sure he'd ever be able to comfortably sit at a cafeteria table with someone who cleaned his clock, but Steve makes it look easy.
Eddie sneaks another glance and startles to find that Steve is already looking at him. He's chewing his lip, his eyebrows pinched and Eddie can't help but feel as though he's being evaluated somehow.
Great.
"Actually, you know what," Steve says after they've turned down yet another subdivision, just one street shy before the main road, "you can just drop me off up here, my house is close".
"You sure?" Eddie asks, ignoring the frustration that rises in his chest once more, "I can drive you the rest of the way, it's not like we don't all know where the King's Domaine is".
Eddie watches as Steve's expression turns stony for the barest of moments before it shutters.
"Okay". 
Eddie nods with a grimace. He isn't even sure what he wanted to happen tonight, but it wasn’t this. 
Eddie makes a left and another right before pulling into the long drive of the Harrington house.
It used to make him scoff whenever he dealt here. The huge house, the lavish furnishings and fixtures. For fucks sake, the master bath had two sinks and the closet was almost as big as his own bedroom. 
But now as the engine dies and a strange silence falls on the pair, Eddie can't help but notice just how dark the house is. 
"Your parents here?" Eddie says, craning his neck to see the upstairs windows, he doesn't even notice Steve has unclicked himself from the passenger seat until the door is open and he's halfway out of the van. 
"Woah--"
"Thanks for the ride," Steve calls over his shoulder, "see you around Munson".
Eddie barely has time to open his mouth in protest before Steve is unlocking his door and slamming it behind him, leaving Eddie in the van alone. 
He sits for a second before sighing and turning the key once more, coaxing the engine back to life. Eddie turns again, bracing his hand on the passenger seat, debating if he should head back to the party, before he spots something on the floor shining in the glow of the streetlights.
A pair of large black sunglasses, and there's no doubt who they belong to.
"Well shit," Eddie hums thoughtfully as he bends forward to grab the glasses from the floor, "guess I'll be seeing you sooner than we thought".
***
The first bell rings as Eddie closes his locker, he looks out across the sea of teenagers making their way to homeroom before the second bell and smirks. 
Eddie should also be hurrying, considering how far his locker is from his first period class, but there's something about the way the teachers glare as he saunters in late that just fuels him.
Eddie smirks as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, the metal lunchbox inside clangs against something and Eddie winces at the sound. Shit.
He moves the pack off his shoulder and unzips the top, reaching inside to grab the sunglasses from where they've become trapped beneath his lunchbox. 
They aren't broken thankfully, Eddie's sure that Harrington wouldn't appreciate his gesture nearly as much if they came back cracked or bent. 
The thought makes Eddie stop for just a moment before he opens his locker again to place the sunglasses on the top shelf. Why is he even doing this? It's not as though King-Steve would appreciate this, he probably doesn't even know the glasses are missing. 
What does Eddie care about some asshole jock? 
An image of Steve with his head in his hands, his hazel eyes wet and wide as he looks up at Eddie has him slamming his locker shut, mortified by the unbidden thought. 
It's a complete betrayal of his own God damned doctrine, and worse, Steve is straight. All Eddie is doing is hurting himself in the long run with all his pointless pining.
Especially over someone that didn't want to be seen getting into his van last night. 
Eddie leans his head onto his locker and knocks it harshly against the metal, stupid.
The second bell rings and the last of the stragglers leave him alone in the hallway. Eddie taps his fingers on the locker and pushes himself away as he makes his way to the main door, throwing his backpack over his shoulder once more. 
He needs a smoke, and definitely doesn't need Mrs. McBrayden telling him off for not handing in yet another essay today. 
Whatever, it isn't as though Eddie hasn't read Macbeth, he knows that stupid play backwards and forwards --the witches speech is absolutely full of kickass creepy language and was perfect for this one campaign he ran a few years ago. 
Eddie could tell you all the major themes and conflicts no problem, it was writing it in such a way that his teacher would believe he actually wrote it that was the issue.
The last time Eddie actually tried on one of his assignments, he had been immediately accused of plagiarizing someone else's work. 
So, why bother. 
Eddie's already got a cigarette between his lips as he pushes the door open and makes his way to his favorite picnic table by the treeline when he hears a familiar voice behind the gym.
"Tell me--"
"Tell you what?" another voice scoffs, a woman's this time.
Eddie pokes his head tentatively around the corner, spotting the man he had driven home just the night before and his girlfriend alone, clearly fighting.
"Tell me," Steve says firmly, even as his voice waivers, "you love me".
Wheeler stands there, her arms wrapped tightly around her books, "really?"
The word comes out, wrapped in a smile, like it's a joke. 
Steve doesn't move, he doesn't laugh, he doesn't make a sound. 
Nancy's mouth opens and closes as her blue eyes search Steve's face for a long time. She tries for a laugh again, but her smile cracks as Steve continues to stand there expectantly.
Eddie can't see Steve's face from where he's standing but he does hear the low curse he lets out eventually before turning abruptly, swinging a towel over his shoulder as he jogs back to the field to join the rest of the class.
Well shit.
Eddie watches Nancy as she remains rooted to the spot, her face tipped down to the gravel. She breathes out a long sigh and raises one hand to brush through her hair before it drops heavily at her side. 
Eddie can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy as he slowly turns away, shaking his head as he continues to the picnic table. 
He lights the cigarette as he takes a seat facing the school, letting the edge of the table dig into his back. He pulls a long drag from the cigarette and breathes out, watching as the smoke billows away in the cool November air.
If it wasn't officially over last night, it definitely was now. The priss and the jock were no more, and knowing Hawkins?
It would be all over the school by lunch.
Part Three up!
Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123
and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @strangersteddierthings @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads
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some highschool newspaper editor tina doodles
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