hiya! i’m alive and i did reboot. follow me now on here! @photoalbuhm
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hiya! i’m alive and i did reboot. follow me now on here! @photoalbuhm
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hiya! i’m alive and i did reboot. follow me now on here! @photoalbuhm
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anyways on a you brainrot & made a joe! @goldberhg
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anyways on a you brainrot & made a joe! @goldberhg
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two ppl sitting on a couch 0 feet apart cuz they are gay @scriptom
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happy halloween from me & @aughust
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isn’t that what keeps people going in a small town? the hope to one day get the hell out & never look back? maybe it’s just this town, just hawkins that gives the insatiable itch to hop in his car ── drive so fast that in a blink of an eye, the rundown houses are miniscule in his rear view mirror. a flash of hope twists his expression, leaving as quickly as it appeared & replaced with a glimmer of doubt in blue optics. hand busies itself in his hair, the stick of gel enough to make him wipe his palm on his new dark blue jeans. ❝ you can. my grades are shit, no colleges want me. i’ll be stuck at scoops in that girl repellent hat for the rest of my damn life. ❞
↳ @vanitys / dentenca, evie
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this is a new permanent starter call! please specify which muse you would like the starter from. depending on muse selection, i will reach out for loose plotting.
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the hesitance that ran through his veins the night he told cristina he loved jo was hard to fight through. still, he grew a pair, pretended that every past relationship didn’t end in flames or an admission to the psych ward & confessed his feelings. it hadn’t been back, distracted by late nights, pizza runs, confessions of a love neither of them had ever felt ── until now. maybe it’s his pride, his ego being damaged by the fact that jo brutally took back the engagement. [ he thought his intentions were clear, that nothing was blurry. hindsight is 20 / 20. ] now, his stubbornness will be his downfall, the damage to his confidence that had never faltered with them enough for him to take a few steps back. jo’s not stupid, he couldn’t pull the same shit he had before without her taking notice. couldn’t turn the other way in hospital corridors then let the lie i’ve been looking for you slide easily off his tongue when the avoidance couldn’t be pulled off any longer. jo is smarter than that, attune to his games. [ maybe because she has once played the same games herself. ] ❝ nothing. you don’t want to get married, heard it loud & clear. i have a patient to get to. ❞
↳ @laender / wilson, jo
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↳ FEATURING: PRESLEY, ANDROMEDA
🌿 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 must be like : to have a family. ( a whole one, not the fragmented beast she grew up with. not a family who sets out a dinner plate for a mother that will never show. not a family made up of a girl and an empty farmhouse, where the wind is the only other voice to comfort her in the night. a real family ; with strings of words strategically placed so they leave the hardest bite, with the same pair of lips as you when you stand side by side in the mirror, with an attunement so clear that it’s almost inconveniencing. ) the opportunity to see one is enticing —- but she can’t shake the dismay in his features. something is better than nothing when her eyes are clouded by craving, but she’s sure tyler would disagree if she voiced the sentiment.
her own glossed lips curl with his, eyebrows raising at his observation. “ would you believe me if i said i might’ve enjoyed their company ? ” a laugh accompanies her words, ringing its bright sound against the hard edge of his voice. ( neither of their sentiments rest untrue. her track - record is nowhere near the white picket fence she looks so longingly at, and yet it’s the best she can manage to scrape for herself time and time again. ) the empty glass is examined — her own admittance staring back at her from the bottom’s leftover amber liquid. but her smile is still dormant and warm. “ i’m so very honored that you’ve chosen me to be your knight in shinin’ armor. should i prepare to slay any dragons ? i could do it, y’know. i’ve fought bears away from my chickens ; i think i can handle a mean grammaw, anythin’ of the sorts, for you. ”
it was going to be the death of him ── that much he decided. pride too large to disclose to andromeda why exactly he’s dreading the event so much. ego too violent to explain why the insinuation that she would enjoy his family makes his stomach twist in knots. the words echo in his head [ YOUR FAMILY IS SO PERFECT / YOU’RE SO LUCKY ] by people who only saw the facade that the man presented. the perfect mayor, the perfect man, the perfect husband, the perfect father. uncle mason is the only one who saw right through it ── the only reason he’s dragging his feet through the thick mud of trauma to make a drunken appearance. he learned the art of the mask from the expert himself, which is why a smile appears effortlessly on his features.
it’s so rehearsed, mirrored in photographs & practiced in mirrors. the charming smile that led everyone to believe he had nothing to hide. ❝ hey, that would make one of us. ❞ maybe it would benefit him if she couldn’t see through the facade of his father. if she remained naive to the blinding narcissism it would let her play the role so realistically he might even believe it. take the attention off of him, let him stand behind her light to drown out his own misery. ❝ no dragons. unless you consider small talk an obstacle. [ . . . ] you have chickens? ❞
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the roll of his eyes comes naturally, far too accustomed to his sister’s display to be phased. should he have meddled & encouraged joe to go out on a ridiculous amount of hot dates to make love jealous? no, but it’s not his fault he’s a natural mastermind. who cares ── milo is an asshole anyway. [ definitely not good for love. ] he shouldn’t be talking with a name like forty, but even the name milo screamed unavoidable red flags. his sister is blind, despite her buggy eyes. ❝ have you ever thought of going into acting? don’t be so dramatic, lovey. you’re making my ears bleed. ❞ the freshly rolled joint is lifted to his lips, thick smoke releasing into the air & disappearing with a gentle gust of wind. a mischievous smile tugs subtly at his features, eyebrows raising innocently. ❝ so, you talk to joe yet? ugh, i’ve been totally waiting for you two to fall back into each other’s arms, like some sort of rom - com. so romantic. ❞
↳ @scriptom / quinn, love
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my life has been a shitshow so i’m sorry for not being here hdfdkf ( @scriptom can attest to this statement ) but i am visiting keeks next weekend so knowing our pattern i’ll probably get replies out then
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constant pulling, will she / won’t she. it’s a trauma bond, two people pushed together by two people that were torn away. why would nancy wheeler give him the time of day otherwise? will is okay ── but barb isn’t. he feels like a piece of shit when his mind begins to wander to the thought of i’m glad it happened ── maybe he is. the walls are still up, every time he sees a crack in the structure it is quickly plastered over with the mention of steve harrington. god, he’s sick of hearing about that guy. ❝ what’s meant to be will be, right? ❞ the word us lingers on the tip of his tongue. ❝ he’s upset. just give him time. ❞
↳ @nancewheelers / wheeler, nancy
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❝ can you watch where you’re going? i do not have time for this. ❞
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↳ FEATURING: BIRD, JASON
a dry chuckle lifted itself from the back of jason’s throat as he considered what serena had said (a fact he had witnessed enough times, too). “you’re right, neither of you have done amazingly well in that department if memory serves me correctly.” a poor excuse for another dig at the blonde? maybe, but he wouldn’t be jason bird if he didn’t take what moments he could. niceties wasn’t something that he was exactly known to have, even in moments of somewhat desperation like these.
“just drinking.” he clarified, a hand lifting to wave to the bartender, signalling that they were both in need to refreshed glasses without actually saying a word. “this isn’t turning into some touch-y feel-y talk about our emotions.” he couldn’t think of anything worse, especially when he couldn’t be certain that anything he might say wouldn’t be used against him in the future. “merely looking better than drinking ourselves into a stupor alone.”
raised eyebrows in response, a scoff sounding from parted cherry lips. she clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, tsk tsk tsk. ❝ oh, so you’re the expert on successful relationships? you should introduce me to your girlfriend. ❞ sarcasm flavors her tone like the champagne on her tongue, sweet but deadly if taken in too large of a dose. unsure whether the remark was actually meant to hurt, dry humor is the safe door to go through. blue eyes gaze down to the flute in her hand, swirling the liquid ‘round and ‘round.
❝ just drinking, ❞ she confirms with a hint of a smile, letting the final sip run its course down her throat. she slides the glass to the other side of the bar, using a hand to gesture towards the bartender. just drinking is something she can do ── no expectations, no etiquette. ❝ absolutely, because no one in new york ever drinks themselves into a stupor alone. totally�� unheard of. ❞
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↳ @scriptom·: STILINSKI, STILES
BODY TENSES AS HE HESITATES // there’s a moment of careful contemplation , a moment where stiles tries to think about the best action to take . he hated that there was little he could do to help , hated that there was stuck with a sickly derek instead of helping scott find kate’s bullet : everything in stiles wanted to toss derek out of the jeep , to continue on with the rest of his day as if nothing happened . jaw grits as derek makes a threat , eyes glare daggers into the wolf before key turns in the ignition , but he pauses with his hand on the shifter . ❝ and what exactly is your grand plan ? where the fuck are we going ? ❞ stiles couldn’t exactly take derek back to his house , couldn’t hide him from the off-duty sheriff that was bound to ask questions ( questions stiles had no clue how to answer ) .
❝ i can’t take you home , can’t take you to your place . so where exactly are we going ? ❞ he waits before putting the car in drive , needs to know exactly what the hell derek wants to do . stiles is sure derek’s threats are empty words – after all , the werewolf is too weak to walk on his own , there was no way he’d be able rip stiles’ throat out … right ? ❝ i can’t just keep driving in circles until you die in my passenger seat . ❞
if his shoulders could get any tighter, his spine would break. the tension is always thick enough to wade through when stiles is in the room. add the two of them in an enclosed vehicle & it’s no surprise the puddle has evolved to an ocean. a mixture of derek currently dying & his general annoyance of stiles is a chaotic mixture, eyebrows drawn close together. what words couldn’t do in this moment, expressions could. ❝ i don’t know! ❞ a low roar that causes a searing pain behind his ribcage, coughing in response. [ he ignores the taste of iron on his tongue. ]
he lets his eyes fall shut once again, hoping that if he falls into a peaceful sleep, he could shut stiles’ voice out once & for all. he wonders what’s on the other side ── if his mom is on the other side. it’s something he has to begin to ponder, because there’s zero chance that stiles stilinski is getting him out of this debacle alive. ❝ i’m not really in the problem - solving state. where’s scott? call scott. ❞
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