not Mew in his revenge arc dressing up more as Ray? Is it cuz Top hates Ray? Mew showing that he’ll morally never stoop as low as Boston was a very good non vengeful revenge but I can’t forgive him for using Ray’s feelings. Then again we need this so Ray realises he loves Sand
Everything Boston says makes me angry. Yes Nick wiretapping Boston was wrong but you can’t blame your wrongdoings being revealed to your friends on him!? And the way he said “he borrowed” Top and that he came first…a jerk. But that comedic ass kick was the highlight 🤣
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Lautski Week day one!
Prompt: Warmth
I have this headcanon that Pete has really cold hands so he knitted two-hand mittens so he and Steph could hold hands at cold football games
Ohhh gosh I feel so bad for posting this so late but i didn’t think about the fact that i would be in a plane all day :,(
@lautski-week
edit: i edited out the phone numbers in the background thanks @ellaashmore for pointing that out 🙏🙏
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Welcome, Captain Seaside | Year 287 | Part 1
First (here) | Next
Workin on a comic! As the title says, this will revolve around Seaside's first meeting with the other three matriarchs.
The grump of the hour isn't here yet, but we do have these two bickering!
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Scavenger Hunt Item #30
Well, it looks more like a well than a tower, but still, as indicated in scavenger hunt #30, I killed some time and tidied up my desk.. sorting out my gel and fountain pens..
(and realizing that I actually have about 12 different pens with different tones of purple ink and five with green ink...and also that there are only two regular blue pens💀)
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a piece i did for aleena over on twitter in lieu of stickers from my raffle, given that she already owns most of them LOL
they requested flug in the camp leader outfit from the Elmore short, and given that that's probably my favourite short i was more than happy to oblige!
(considering making that middle one into a sticker... he's just so cuuuuute)
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Someone give me the strength and energy to make it through this night shift tonight!! 😩🙏
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first week back at school and ahhhhhh everything is a little overwhelming currently
- my living space is full of boxes i have simply not had the energy to unpack at all.... hopefully this weekend (but i have also been invited to a Social Event so WE SHALL SEE)
- this school year is going to have So Much Important Stuff happening inbetween the many weeks of practice placement
- such as The Academic Text
- AND i need to finish the big project i was supposed to have finished ages ago
- our teacher this year speaks swedish with a very thick french accent and i speak norwegian with a dialect, we really struggle to understand one another but maybe hopefully that will change over time.... please...........
- i'm stressed about Stupid Bureaucracy Stuff
- and im so so sleepytired :(((
- and it's too humid and warm for comfort :(((((
AT LEAST I HAVE CUTE SOCKS
purchased in a distraught jetlag haze and subsidized by my travel insurance. they're my favourites now
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WHO UP AND READY TO CRY:
Kara doesn’t say anything even though she should—for a moment, she seems frozen as if in shock, not even her hair braying in the breeze of Jeremiah’s standing fan. As he looks at his sister, her curly brown hair that’s grown far past her shoulder blades, her eyes that are now fitted with contacts instead of boxy glasses, her nose that’s now pricked on the right by a cubic zirconia, he realizes he wasn’t just vague about his reasons for returning home, but cruel. What kind of brother calls his sister on a Sunday morning and explains his abrupt return is nothing to worry about, that all he needs is time, that in a week he’ll be better, clearer? What kind of brother says that if a week isn’t enough, then two certainly will be because he’ll quickly learn how to love the scent of coffee again and how to ask for a table for one and how to dance on his own and how to think fondly of a sunset and how to pray without feeling wrong and how to sleep alone? What kind of brother says that in any regard Madonna’s releasing Confessions on a Dance Floor in less than a month so he expects he’ll change by then and if that doesn’t fix him he’ll figure it out anyway? And what kind of brother looks at his sister now and thinks that in all this time he’s relieved she was never there to see him get into a bar for the first time, see him find himself in his houseplants and in Biyu’s laugh, see him fall in love with the wrong man? When Jeremiah was ten and his sister was sixteen, they’d promised each other they’d stay close, and maybe at that age, he didn’t know what that meant, to remain intwined in someone’s life till you were an intrinsic part of them—a lung and a breath, dog and a bone, a god and the son he creates. But here they are, so close, so far apart, Jeremiah’s mouth formed around a question he can’t bring himself to say out loud. What kind of brother leaves?
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