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Somebody please make a compilation of all of the powms once we've collected them all
We’re at 94 now! Only a few more and we could reach 100 signatures!!!
seize the day and sign our petition 🗞
KEEP IT GOING FOLKS WE’RE ALMOST AT 60!!!!
seize the day and sign our petition 🗞
"Please, Spotty!!" Race begged. Spot went blank. 'Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Did he just call me Spotty?' Spots mind raced with thoughts, but his expression showed no emotion despite the growing red flush on his face. "Hey, you good?" Race asked after a beat, not fully snapping Spot out of his trance but enough to speak. "Yeah, jus' thinkin'." " Well ya done thinkin'? We gotta go." Spots heart speed up. "Sure." He said. Race instantly grabbed his arm and tugged him to Medda's theater. But Spot wasn't thinking. He wasn't thinking of the long walk back to Brooklyn. He wasn't considering how fast the night was approaching. He didn't remember the few moments before the interaction and how he yawn three times in the past minute. But how could he? Race called him Spotty.