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    Summary

    There, perched on the doorstep like a guardian angel in ripped jeans and combat boots, sat a figure so unexpected, I had to do a double-take to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. Because, let’s be honest, my eyes and my mind weren’t exactly reliable sources most of the time.

    “Bea?” I ventured cautiously, my voice barely above a whisper as I gazed upon the stranger before me. And let me tell you, it was like something straight out of a movie. There she was, Beatrice—my childhood compadre, my so called partner-in-crime—looking like she’d stepped straight out of a punk rock album cover.

    Gone were the days of prim and proper attire and neatly tucked hair. In their place stood a vision of rebellion, complete with tattoos, piercings, and a devil-may-care attitude that screamed “I am not to be trifled with.”

    As I stood there, dumbfounded and utterly flabbergasted, I couldn’t help but wonder: what in the name of all things holy had happened to my dear, sweet Beatrice? And more importantly, how the fuck was I supposed to react to this newfound punk rock princess sitting on my doorstep?

    OR:

    life is strange based fic (bea is a punk and ava is a dumb photographer)

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    3,368
    Chapters:
    1/?
    Comments:
    6
    Kudos:
    6
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    2
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    379
  2. 13 Apr 2024

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  3. 01 Apr 2024

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