I WANT TYLER. TYLER WANTS MARLA. MARLA WANTS ME.
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@jeebys-blog
             I WANT TYLER. TYLER WANTS MARLA. MARLA WANTS ME.

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itâs called a changeover. the movie goes on, and nobody in the audience has any idea. * TYLER DURDEN and THE NARRATOR, written by sammy and bobby.
denis is my favourite of snafus non-gay siblings because he actually is nice to him since the others vary from being indifferent (augustin) to passive aggressive (charly) to outright violent and hateful (ANSEL)...denis is all we can hope for in this cold old world because he TRIES...he tries badly and is stupid but he still Tries.Â
ik this is so self indulgent of me but snaf has 6 siblings who are all variously older than him and many nieces and nephews including a niece whos only like 4 years younger than him so like...need sum characters whom know snafu as their annoying little brother and then realise..that snafs siblings were the annoying ones and not snafu

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lms if u want my discoerd .. i miss snaf sm and i wanna write more plotted stuff :^)
heâs being modest. he is air jordan of assassins ! * written by freddieÂ
oh the oc i am about to drop..you all are not ready
METUEREâ:
@jeebysâ
âOh, my god. That is so cute.âÂ
Itâs a dog, itâs a baby, itâs a planeânope. Itâs a rat. Maybe she thinks itâs like a smaller raccoon. Maybe she thinks itâs like a smaller her. Maybe sheâs still considering if itâs edible.
âWhatâs its name. Can I pet it.âÂ
Crouton is sitting pleasantly on the table as he feeds her an occasional tiny piece of his chocolate bar. Sue him, but heâs taking this, cautiously, on face value, because itâs a far better reaction than heâs had other times when heâs tried to feed her in public. Usually itâs more like, Oh Lord, a rat! Itâs like nobody even saw Ratatouille. So this is nice.
   âHer nameâs Crouton.â He holds out a small piece of chocolate and she takes it, nibbling at it daintily. âI guess you can pet her if you want. Crout, you got a new friend, lil lady.â
TWOSENSE:
ozzieâs got the pinched sound of pre-release for part one â â i can offer a cigarette. â â and on the exhale, the voice of a man rediscovering what it means to feel at ease. then drops the other shoe. â or a drink. â
@jeebys, call.
   âWhy not both?â Snafuâs always thought he stands out pretty sharply in Ozzieâs office. This is not a place you come with dirty work-boots and dust in your lungs. But then maybe itâs the building, and not the office; the clientele, and not Ozzie. Thatâs not an insult, or at least right now he thinks it isnât. It might depend on how Ozzie moves forward with his charity.
Snafu lopes across the room, tracking dry flakes of mud for a few steps, and drops into the chaise longue, kicking up his feet and letting his head thump back against the cushion. Heâs not a patient, this has never been a doctor-patient thing, so he feels itâs only fair to share and share alike. He considers it, actually, a favour to Ozzie to be here at all. At least heâs not casting his hand onto his forehead and crying about his relationship with his father or something. He tips his head to one side to consider Ozzie flatly, staring in a way that tends to unnerve people. âWhy do I gotta chose? Iâm aââ He searches briefly for the word. âHedonist.â

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then your heart adds its two cents and everything reasonable goes right out the window.
MIMICICâ:
     âYes. I am an inside head helper. What do you want.â
   This seems very definitely not true, but Snafuâs been trying not to judge people as of late. He drops his hands into his lap and considers the breadth of options at his disposal. Crouton, in his hoodie pocket, shuffles and squirms and sticks out her head. âWhat do I want? Big question. Can you narrow it down?â
me in the 1300s seeing a rat, knowing damn well about the black plague: hello babey i love you come here lemme giv u a kiss
hey like for something tiny i miss me boy

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RIPPEDFUELâ:
âIâd say knock yourself out but if you do, thatâs probably gonna come back on me.â He still reopens the fridge to get another bottle, offering it to Snafu and then holding it away for a moment, âwait, whatâs your limit? If youâre looking for a nightcap, I could recommend something else guaranteed to knock you out.â
Good news: this is still weird. Merriell lifts a hand and scrubs at his cheek, feeling the glitter flake off under his fingernails. A few of the pieces float like dust motes to the floor. His mother wonât see it on the floor but Ansel might, if she asks him to do chores. He puts his foot over the flecks. âCan I just have one, man? Shit.â Mostly to pull back a sense of control over the situation, he scrapes back another of the chairs at the table and sits down. âActinâ like a fuckinâ prohibition officer or some shit.â