LITERALLY WHAT IS IT WITH PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET AND THEIR WEIRD OBSESSION WITH SHIPPING TWINS. SIBLINGS. RELATED. SIBLINGS.
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LITERALLY WHAT IS IT WITH PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET AND THEIR WEIRD OBSESSION WITH SHIPPING TWINS. SIBLINGS. RELATED. SIBLINGS.

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please don’t do a stupid magic baby plot please don’t do a stupid magic baby plot please don’t do a stupid magic baby plot please don’t do a stupid magic baby plot
anyays, I'm on smith & jones now the fact that the doctor doesn't wear socks is just ?? no. unless they're like ??? trainer socks and he pulls them off at the same time he takes his converse off ?? but ... i mean, it's hard to see, but it doesn't look like that's the case.
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Disturbing confessions in my tag..

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the grave digger's handbook // closed
She couldn't get out. She couldn't choke on dreams either. They could make her sweat; convulse, even. But she shouldn't be able to choke on them. It was unnatural. And she hated the feeling. It was kinda like gagging on your finger--just that one time--to see if anything extra would come out; extra nothing.
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One brunette girl in a coffin.... Her? It looked like her.... Her slightly upturned nose, her lips--but less chapped, and redder; they were prettier than hers--but it was only the face.
Herself, in a dress her mother probably thought was appropriate--something not too short, with sleeves, something she wouldn't freeze in was her guess; it was the only thing she couldn't entirely see, almost like she wouldn't let herself, not in that--was barely her.
The brunette was pale and had her face--and that where the similarities ended; for her anyway. That brunette didn't look starved... she looked normal--exhausted, but whole. What everyone wanted Mel to be.... The girl looked she died in an accident, a pretty mistake that had been mourned. A car crash maybe--a quick one that snapped her neck; something that allowed an open casket.
Something very different then what the girl--the broken, starved girl--imagined her demise would be.