#stephen sanchez

[promqueendyke]

ghosts, angela deane + until i found you, stephen sanchez

#on love #angela deane #Until I found you #stephen sanchez #lyricsedit #all caps lyrics #typography #typoedit #lyrics art #love #web weaving #spilled ink #collage art #lovecore

[lewkwoodnco]

Be More - George x Reader

"Er...I think this dough's ready to be cut into the strips."

"Yes, chef."

He coughed awkwardly, too uncomfortable to come up with any decent sort of response.

a/n: am soooo salty i fell sick in the middle of my 12 days of fics '23 for xmas last year :((( so im giving myself a lil treat by doing a short series of valentine's fics! i SO don't know how souffles work if you can't tell so pls don't come for me, and a special special thanks to lisa @neewtmas for the apron idea heheh. all fluff, which is why I got all my angst fics out of the way beforehand if you'd like a lil palate cleanser :) also totally didn't make this a songfic cuz i was struggling to find a title :} btw I headcannon that george randomly zones in and out in everyday life and this has nothing to do with how much I may or may not do this myself ALSO was strongly influenced to post this earlier by the multiverse of George aka @oblivious-idiot @bella-rose29@bobbys-not-that-small heh

warnings/tropes: lockwood and george bromance supremacy!!! baking, lots and lots of valentine's day fluff, awkward georgeeeee

word count: 2.8k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Lucy handed George a steaming cup of tea, which he gratefully accepted. The three of them were having breakfast as usual, and with the last strains of winter fading, Portland Row's kitchen was entirely too bright. He closed his eyes, pretending he didn't see the way Lockwood's hand lingered on Lucy's when taking his mug. They were bad enough on any normal day, but even worse nowadays, with Valentine's Day drawing achingly closer. He felt himself begin to nod off again from the gentle and comforting steam.

He felt a mild rap against his cheek, which he turned to see is from a well-aimed sugar cube launched from across the table by Lucy. He looked up to see her staring hard at him and Lockwood poorly concealing a snigger with his cup of tea.

"George. Have you or have you not got any plans for Valentine's?"

He takes his time wiping his glasses on his shirt sleeve before responding. "Nothing much. Though I've promised Y/N I'd spend the day with her."

He watched Lucy's expression carefully, and she seemed to be watching his. Truth was, with Valentine's drawing closer and closer, George was going into a mild panic. He hadn't exactly arranged it intentionally. They had been having a quiet chat on a morning when George had been too tired from the previous night's case to strictly follow, and suddenly she was waving goodbye, promising to see him next on Valentine's Day.

He had no idea what kind of a Valentine's Day he had agreed to, or how much of a filter he had had, and he had been dropping Lucy desperate cries for help, with decreasing subtlety. Was it a date? Was she expecting a date? Sure, they had went to that play together after Lucy fell mysteriously ill, and maybe they met up for lunch once a week. But she never referred to

His eyes slowly drifted close as Lucy and Lockwood's conversation morphed into gentle white noise, enjoying the warmth of the little sun streaming through their kitchen window. It felt nice to have a little break from his intense week of baking -

Baking! George snapped wide awake, clumsily climbing out of his chair and feverishly counting the stacks of meticulously wrapped, frilly pastry goodie bags lining the kitchen counter. It had become an annual Valentine's Day tradition for George to construct these small goodie bags of baked goods for a sizeable chunk of his extended family. He even roped in Lucy and Lockwood, and as Valentine's Day approached they'd all gather around the kitchen table at night, even if it was after a case, packing the delicaices George had spent the day baking, until one of them started dropping off.

It was tedious work, but they enjoyed it and were well invested in it - Lockwood fiercely so. When a cousin had remarked that perhaps the tradition was becoming a little tired at a family gathering last Christmas, Lockwood had accidentally-but-not-really smacked his head. George relaxed as he neared towards the end of the pile - just one more day of baking, and he'd be ready to send them off.

Lucy and Lockwood were mostly finished with breakfast anyway, so he chased them out of the kitchen and got to work. Once George had his first batch of cookies in the oven, he started planning for the supplementary baked goods. For instance, he was going to make a chocolate souffle for the three of them to share over a midnight supper tomorrow.

So when the kitchen door swung open, letting in a blast of cold air, George spun around scathingly, ready to threaten Lockwood with deflated souffles. But the hiss at the tip of his tongue withered when he saw who it was.

"...Y/N?"

"Hello. Baking, are you?"

George suppressed the urge to shield the vast volumes of confectionary goodie bags littering the kitchen's surfaces.

"...yes." With some difficulty, he slowly resumed his movements, explaining how this was something he did every year. In a way, he was grateful to have something to do with his hands, because the last minute or so reminded him that he had no idea what he normally did with his hands while standing.

"Oh. Need any help?"

It took George another half-minute to process her question. "With what?"

"With the baking, obviously."

"Uh...s'alright, I've got it all handled."

"No, please, I'd love to help."

George paused mid-stir, looking comically perplexed with a smidge of flour on his nose. "What for?" He bit his tongue, hastily back-pedalling since his tone sounded aggressively suspicious. "What I mean is, you wouldn't want to spend your day here, sweating like a pig - not that you sweat, and definitely not like a pig, no - I'm the one sweating like a pig..."

What he wanted to say was, their oven was ancient and so made the kitchen stupid hot every time he baked, but failed miserably. He set down his mixing bowl in defeat. Almost instantly, she stifled a giggle, trying to pass it off as clearing her throat, and George followed her gaze to his apron in horror. What the mixing bowl had previously been hiding was the horrendously cheesy 'kiss the cook' graphic on his apron.

It had been a ridiculous gag gift from Lucy, one that he had never intended to use but was forced to after his last apron caught on fire from one of his experiments with the skull. Bursting into flames would have been more useful now, He stood there, eyes watering from the heat, determined in his refusal to acknowledge both the apron and the smile she was doing a poor job of suppressing.

"Fine. You can start with the cookie batter."

About a minute or two later, it occurred to George that perhaps it would have wise to ask how much experience she had with baking. Not a lot, he soon discovered, when her bowl nearly flew off as soon as she switched on the egg beater. He dropped his mixing bowl instantly, waving away her apologies.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't expect it to be so powerful."

He cautiously adjusted her grip on the bowl, gently guiding her fingers to a better hold.

"No, no, it's my fault. Not much of a baker?"

"...no."

"Okay, so what you do is, use one hand to hold the - other hand - hold the bowl, and the other holds the egg beater like - no, not quite."

He took a step closer, placing his hands over hers, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from her body, and the smell of her shampoo.

The last time they had been this close was on their way home from that play. With Lockwood out of town for a client meeting, and Lucy developing a mysterious case of the flu, it was only the two of them crouched under a tiny umbrella as they walked home after the play. George would have been more than happy to walk in the rain, but she was the one holding the umbrella, and was firm in her resolve to not send him back to Lucy with a head cold. With the little space between them, their cheeks brushed against each other occasionally, sending a jolt running through the side of George's face.

"Well...this is me."

George nodded dumbly, staring hard at the chips in her front door's paint, agonisingly aware of her looking at his face. He didn't dare turn to meet her gaze; they were far too close.

"I had fun today, George."

He sighed and briefly zonesout. As short as their chat was, he remembered very little, his focus only returning when she pulled her key out.

"We should do this again sometime," she was saying, as she turned the key in her lock. When he finally looked at her, there were the tinies raindrops on her eyelashes. There was something so pure and unassuming about the sight that it tugged at his heart. It made him want...more. More with her. With a brief smile, she disappeared into her home, leaving him standing alone in the rain. He stood there for a minute, prolonging the moment for some unidentifiable reason. It was a nice door. She had a nice smile.

It was as though she had read his thoughts from his eyes, for a faintly embarrassed air hung in the kitchen after that. For the next better part of an hour, they engaged in this delicate dance as they floated through the kitchen, carefully staying out of each other's way, never in the same area for long. It wasn't until she was sifting the dry ingredients that they next spoke.

"Hang on, that might be too much flou-"

As George touched her elbow, her hand jerked, sending a sizeable chunk of flour into her mixing bowl, along with a cloud of it directly in her face. He was sorry, of course, but as she spluttered and tried to blink through it, he couldn't stop the amused twist to his features. When she caught his eye, she rolled her eyes and sent a fistful of flour into his eyes. Now it was her turn to laugh as George groaned through the smarting.

"You're right, Mr. Cook, it IS hilarious!"

George scoffed, struggling to maintain his sanctimonius, above-petty-acts front as he wiped his glasses clean with as much dignity as he could muster. But on the inside, his defences were crumbling fast.

"You're acting like a child."

She looked mildly apologetic for a moment, and George felt a flash of truimph, before she raised both her flour-coated hands and resolutely streaked them across George's face.

"Egg on your face. Or should I say, flour?"

With that, all pretenses of civility were thrown out the window. The both of them swept up as many ingredients as they could and migrated to opposite ends of the kitchen table, pelting each other with everything that could be pelted. George landed a few well-aimed chocolate chips into her hair. She soaked the front of his apron with half a jug of milk, which was nearly enough to send him into hysterics. So it went on and on and on, until they ran out of supplies in their immediate reach, before resorting to shoving each other's faces into bags and tins of baking soda and powdered sugar. This, it occurred to George as he was rubbing cornstarch into her red, wheezing face, is strangely intimate.

Again, there was this tugging sensation in his chest, the kind that made him want to sit in his armchair for anywhere from half a minute to half an hour. The kind of sensation that could not be held in words. The closest he could get was the wish for a never-ending summer, or perhaps orchards full of cherry trees as sweet as the first pick. But even that fell short.

Just as she raised two fistfuls of sprinkles, the kitchen door swung open. Lockwood wandered in, looking sharp as ever in his too-small suit. The two of them smoothly parted, their faces burning under the flour, and George suddenly became very interested in the pastry dough he was kneading. He felt rather than saw Lockwood looking back and forth between the two of them, wishing that he'd just take whatever he needed from the kitchen and got out. But of course, he knew better than to engage in wishful thinking, especially with Lockwood's mildly gormless smile plain as day. "Hang on. George, you do realise that-"

Whatever it was that Lockwood was wondering if he had realised was cut off by the jam tart George shoved into his mouth, because the answer was probably yes, Lockwood, of course I realised that completely inane observation.

"Out. Out. I won't have you compromising the integrity of my kitchen." With a little difficulty, George wheeled a spluttering Lockwood littering soft pastry flakes all over his clean kitchen floor out into the hallway. He shut the door firmly and turned back apologetically, only just seeing the flour in her hair as she watched on amusedly.

"I sure hope I'm not starting up a ruckus - or was it compromising the integrity? - of your kitchen."

George felt his cheeks warming as he returned to the kitchen table. "No, of course not. You never know where Lockwood's been, is all. You're different."

Had he been standing this close to her the whole day, he wondered, close enough to see the pretty flakes in her eyes, softer than any pastry he could make? How was he supposed to look away? And how did he stand it?

"Er...I think this dough's ready to be cut into the strips."

"Yes, chef."

He coughed awkwardly, too uncomfortable to come up with any decent sort of response, embarrassedly muttering something along the lines of how there was no need for any of that. As she got absorbed into getting the strips of dough just right, George glanced at the kitchen door, to see Lockwood silently making exaggerated kissy faces at him. George picked up his rolling pin and Lockwood fled immediately, without so much as a creak from the floorboards.

Now, they finally returned to their baking with proper focus, now that they were all tired out. She seemed to have picked up some skills pretty quickly, though he still kept an eye out in case she might do something that would, say, set her hand on fire.

An hour or so later, the phone started ringing obnoxiously in the hallway. With some difficulty, George peeled off one of his disposable gloves on his way to it. When he picked up the phone, he almost wished he hadn't, because it was that same cousin from last Christmas' gathering. As his voice wore on and on, George started wishing he had let Lockwood give him another punch or two, just to set him straight.

Suddenly, he picked out a few startling words from his cousin's nasally voice, which made his heart plummet, as the calendar in the hallway came into startling focus. He wandered back to the kitchen door, numbly hearing his cousin's complaints of why no one's goodie bags had reached yet. He blankly stared at her, and she stared back confused, slowing down her cutting of the strips concernedly. After a second or two, he hung up the phone, but was in too much shock to lower it.

"Today's date," he whispered.

"Hm?"

"Today's date. It's not the 13th. I thought it was the 13th. Today is the 14th. Valentine's day was today, not tomorrow."

Even as he was saying those words, the calm look on her face told him exactly what he had feared - that she had known all along.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought this was what you wanted to do!"

"Unpaid labour."

"What?"

"You spent your Valentine's Day doing exhausting, difficult, unpaid labour." He clumsily placed the phone down on the kitchen counter, struggling to find the right words as he fought against the embarrassment. "I am so sorr- just a minute, I might have some loose change somewhere here-"

"Don't." George was spiraling with shame, kicking himself for his oversight, and she still had the gall to look that pretty and kind. "I didn't mind any of it one bit, I promise."

"I promised you something fun."

"George, this is the most fun I've ever had baking, and I've been making pineapple upside down cakes since before I could - oh."

She broke off when she finally looked up to see the growing shock on George's face. She nibbled at the inside of her cheek nervously, trying to gauge his reaction.

"So you do know how to bake."

"Only a little?"

He took in the sight of her apologetic smile, the careful dusting of flour on her face and her suspiciously clean clothes. "You could have said."

"Oh, but I was having so much fun." George rolled his eyes. "I spent the day learning how to construct the most adorable pastry goodie bags I have ever seen, and I did it all with my boyfriend. Believe me, it doesn't get more fun than this."

Not for the first time that day, George stared at her in wonder, like he couldn't quite figure out how she was real. Even now, when all she was doing was merely existing, words failed him. He had a feeling he'd spend lifetimes chasing shadows, trying to pin what was gone before it bloomed, and he still wouldn't be able to find the right words. There was no other way to put it, or colour it - he wished they were more.

He hesitantly extended his hand, brushing just a speck of the huge handprint of flour on her face with his thumb. He turned, walking out into the hallway, but then just as immediately wheeled back.

"Your WHAT?"

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

#if i had a nickel for everytime i wrote a george x reader fanfic where pastries were a siginificant part i'd have 2 nickels #which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened twice LMAO #also in case its not clear i meant the your WHAT to be referring to the reader calling him her bf sdfhajfalskf #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #fanfic #george karim x reader #george cubbins #george karim imagine #george karim x you #george x reader #george karim #valentines day #fluff #Spotify #be more #stephen sanchez

[justbusterkeaton]

💞

Music: Until I Found You (song by Stephen Sanchez) Instrumental Violin Cover by Taylor Davis

#buster keaton #stephen sanchez #until i found you #comedy #silent movies #1920s #silent film #silent comedy #1920s cinema #golden age of hollywood #hollywood #slapstick #my edit

[very-normal-abt-this]

just combining my love of music & good omens. aka angsty memes.

quote is from "missing you" by stephen sanchez and ashe

#good omens #good omens prime #good omens season 2 #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #i forgive you #good omens finale #good omens final fifteen #good omemes #good omens memes #good omens fanart #ineffable divorce #stephen sanchez #song lyrics

[muncieboy]

Stephen Sanchez, Photo: Luke Rogers

#stephen sanchez

[tarlosmalec]

“You fell, I caught you”

“I'll never let you go again like I did”

“I would never fall in love again until I found her”

I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into"

“I was lost within the darkness,”

“but then I found her”

“I found you”

“Oh, let me hold you.”

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #until i found you #stephen sanchez #first prince #so this is love #alex x henry #tearjerker #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz

[iclout]

#until i found you #stephen sanchez

[how-serene]

Do You Need The Sandman?

Pairing - Johnson (Reprisal) x Fem!Reader

Summary - It's midnight and all Johnson wants is to hear your pretty voice on the other end of the line.

Word count - 497

Warnings - smoking, so many uses of pet names, yearning, Johnson being slightly horny for you

A/N - Love how I'm literally only writing for Johnson so far. Originally this was supposed to be smut but I decided against it at the last minute. (Loosely inspired by the song Evangeline by Stephen Sanchez)

Johnson took a long drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke coat his tongue. In his other hand he held a sleek black phone that was connected to a barely kept together phone booth. A stream of live band music spilled into the streets whenever someone walked inside the bar, reminding him he wasn’t alone. 

Pick up, baby.

He cradled the phone to his ear, holding onto it as if the device might disappear in his hands. Maybe you were asleep, or simply weren’t home-

“H-Hello?” your sweet voice came through the receiver, stalling his thoughts. A strange sense of relief washed over him. 

“It’s me, angel.” he said, plucking the cigarette from his lips. He could hear you shuffling around, turning on the lamp beside your bed. 

“Well hello, lover boy.” you eventually said, giggling in his ear. His heart fluttered at the sound, as he firmly pressed the phone against his cheek. The time on his watch read 12 a.m.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized, flicking the cigarette. “Just wanted to hear your voice.” 

His stomach twisted at your silence, tugging at the phone cord as some mease distraction as he waited. 

You sighed into the phone, “It’s fine, I wasn't getting much sleep.” You fell silent again, weighing something in your mind. 

“Too busy thinking about you anyway.” 

He perked up, snuffing out his cigarette as he propped his arm up on the phone stand. People continued to filter in and out through the bar door, drunkenly making their way past him without another thought. 

“Been thinkin about you too, angel face.” he confessed, his voice nearly a whisper. He could picture you lying there right now, phone held up to your ear, hand grasping onto it like a lifeline. The mattress hugging the curves of your body, the sky blue nightie you adored rising up over your stomach whenever you moved around. Your own hands running down the sides of your soft body, teasing him over the phone. 

“Been thinking about you a whole lot,” he muttered, the sight of you in his mind vanishing. You giggled again, amused. He closed his eyes, greedily drinking in the sound. 

“I’m curious to know just how much I’ve been on your mind, Johnson.” 

Your sugary voice was almost mocking, causing his heart to wince. 

He glanced back at the bar door, contemplating. The minutes ticked away on his watch, yet it felt as if time didn’t move at all. The sight of you appeared in his mind again, all blue and all soft. 

“Stay awake for me, doll.” 

You hummed, “Will do, doe eyes.” before promptly hanging up. 

He hung the phone back up, flicking his cigarette on the ground. The warm night air brushed against the nape of his neck. He began walking, the mere thought of you in his mind pulling his body toward your presence. 

Behind him, the lively sound of bar music and laughter filled the parking lot.

#david dastmalchian #johnson reprisal #johnson x reader #johnson reprisal x reader #reprisal 2019 #stephen sanchez #drabble

[taintandviolent]

I’ve been listening to Stephen Sanchez’s album on fucking REPEAT my friends.

#I’m so obsessed it’s not even funny #but I’m so obsessed with the fact that he’s born in this era and serving like Elvis and Roy Orbison realness I’m in TEARS over it #I’m just picturing Jimmy singing ALL of these songs holy croooooow #texty #Stephen Sanchez

[ok12857]

here me out

Stephen Sanchez’s song, until I found you is made for Rayllum like come on

“I’ll never let you go again like I did” (Rayla left and said she won’t again)

“I would never fall in love again until I found her” (they both refused to fall in love again until they found the other one again)

“I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her” (Callum lost in his dark magic induced coma and rayla helps him out)

someone make an AMV out of this asap pls it’s literally made for Rayllum

#tdp #rayllum #rayla #mystery of aaravos #the dragon prince #callum #callum x rayla #rayla x callum #tdp s5 #aaravos #stephen sanchez

[raceydays-hopelesshaze]

#his delicate features and slutty aura have captivated me #stephen sanchez #å

[nestito702]

Shirt and pants MOSCHINO, ring CARTIER

Blazer, vest, and pants RHUDE, bracelet CARTIER

STEPHEN SANCHEZ

For Vestal Magazine

#stephen sanchez #vestal magazine #rhude #cartier #moschino

[whenthegoldrays]

It's always "ily" and never "iwcjhytmyfmojtkytmysmichsiymhjriime" (if words could just hold you, tell me you feel me, oh just to know you, tell me you see me, I couldn't have said it, you must have just read it in my eyes)

#elly's posts #stephen sanchez

[antiques-and-old-things]

¿Cuál es el punto de toda esta música?

Si no estoy aquí para bailar contigo.

#<3 #stephen sanchez

[cherryy-slushy]

I Will Never Fall in Love Again~ Yandere!Jason Dean

TW: Violence, cheating, abuse (alcohol related), smut?, alcohol, drugging, using (using a person for something), bad mental health. (Also I may change to personal pronouns halfway through I apologise in advance.)

Part 1!

Part 2

Enjoy!

Your an average person. You have a normal amount of friends, a bit of childhood trauma but an average life now, average looks and average grades. You’re no Heather. But, recently you started to wish more and more that you were. And here’s why.

Y/N has English first class, she was tired as any sane person would be. Your teacher was also majorly upbeat for 8:50 am on a Monday morning. What is she hopped up on?

Y/N looked over to her side. Great Christine isn’t in again. She rolled her eyes knowing this class is going to drag on because of the absence of her friend. She isn’t entirely close with Christine, but she still helps her get through English without loosing the plot.

She snapped out of her trance when she heard her name get called on the registration.

“Y/N?”

“Here”, She said in a blank tone.

“Perfect”, the teacher replied in a chirpy tone.

As she went back into a daydream she kicked back into reality when she heard a knock on the classroom door. Jesus Christ you know it’s a bad class when you find any way to not listen for one second.

She looked to the door as it opened. Through the open door came a deviously handsome boy. I’m talking a guy that would have girls swooning.

“Ah you must be Jason!”, Ms Fleming chirped. “Yep, that’s me”, he replied back, clearly trying to be polite but just sounding sarcastic. Y/N tried so hard not to snort at this.

In the corner of her eye she saw Veronica sawyer. Veronica shifted in her seat suddenly intrigued by the stranger. I turn my head to face her and roll my eyes. I don’t dislike Sawyer, she’s lovely, but it is pretty shitty that she dumped her only friend of nearly 11 years to be a part of the “popular” gang.

I face back up to where the boy and Ms Fleming we’re stood.

“Y/N, Christine isn’t in today is she?”, Ms Fleming asked. “No, she’s not”, I respond, remembering the tragic disappearance of my friend. Okay, maybe I’m being dramatic but this class sucks ass. I need someone to help me through the day.

“Perfect”, she said clapping her hands together, “Jason, go take a seat down there next to Y/N. Y/N raise your hand please.”

I raise my hand a small bit but not too high. Jason starts walking down the class and plomps his bag down next to the edge of the table. I try act nonchalant even though inside I’m dying. I return to scribbling incoherent nonsense onto a refill pad.

In the corner of my eye I see him look at my face and then down to my refill pad as he cocks his eyebrow.

Shit I forgot to change the page…

The sheet I was using was a page another friend of mine and I used to pass each other notes in science class. So yes, there is a massive…willy.. on there…. A very graphic image of one too..

I quickly snap the refill pad shut and pretend to listen to Ms Pauline Fleming ranting about S.E Hintons writing. She was talking about hawkes harbour.

“Im more an outsiders guy myself”, I hear a deep yet somehow high voice whisper too me. I look over at him and see him looking up at Ms Fleming.

“You’ve read the outsiders?”, I asked with a small smile starting to appear on my face.

“Have I read the outsiders? Well duh. Who hasn’t darling?”, he replies back with a small chuckle.

“Tell me, are you more a Ponyboy or Johnny person”, I asked. You can tell a lot about someone from their favourite characters movie.

“Dally”, he replied. “May not be the answer you were looking for but it’s an answer.”

I like this guy

We spoke about the outsiders for a bit longer and before I knew it the bell rang. We both started to stuff out stuff into our bags and before either of us could say anything Veronica Sawyer swoops in.

“Hey. I’m Veronica, Veronica sawyer. What’s your name?”, she asked with a polite smile. “Greetings and salutations, Veronica, Veronica Sawyer. I’m Jason, Jason Dean. JD for short.”, he smirked back.

Oh fuck, am I gonna have my heart broken by this boy.

I started getting bored of them because let’s be honest, who would want to stand there and listen to the boy she’s already starting to have feelings for talk to one of the most beautiful girls in school who is clearly swooning for him and he is clearly swooning for her. Doesn’t seem like a very fun conversation too listen too.

As I walked out I looked back to see if he noticed I left. Nope. He didn’t. Great. I kept walking down the hall and into my next class. Today is going to drag on.

#jason dean #jamie muscato #ryan mccartan #christian slater #heathers the musical #heathers 1989 #heathers #veronica sawyer #jason dean x you #jason dean x reader #follow #tumblr #like #stephen sanchez #never fall in love again #Spotify

[annaizscribbling]

I saw Stephen Sanchez live last night and I think I understand what the girls in love with Elvis in the 60s felt like.

#stephen sanchez #anais rambles #who let this man do this to me