I need to say something that’s been on my chest for three years now, but here goes nothing. Um, I know that half of you would careless and the other half would care but. I have a three year old daughter, named Lyric whom I had with my ex-best friend/boyfriend before my senior year. Im also in an open adoption and I talked to her parents to see if they would be okay with me going public with this, and they said that I can. Im still going to be limited with posting pictures of her since I still want to protect her from the spotlight.
So if you have any questions, go ahead while I do some homework, well attempt to do homework.
*holding person B's face between their hands and squeezing*
Will you please stop squishing my face?
At the beginning it was because I wanted to see how ridiculous you would look like this but instead you still manage to look adorable and pretty and now I want to keep holding you because your skin feels nice
These are the moments where half of me is asking why I fell for you and the other half is wondering how could I have lived without you for so long
Sam hasn’t been blackout drunk for a couple of years, not since the night that he got Dean back from demonhood and put away nearly an entire bottle of Jack. That time he woke up face down in his pillows, fully clothed with his dislocated shoulder shooting violent bolts of pain down his spine. This time, he comes to with the sky wheeling white above him, his clothes damp and his knees muddy and twigs and leaves in his hair. He sits up, hauls himself to his feet and staggers forward a dozen yards or so to emerge onto a jogging track, a woman in bright lycra thudding past with headphones in her ears. His legs are bruised and aching and his mind is… fuck, so foggy, a great roiling cloud of nothingness, and he has to stop thinking about that right fucking now if he wants to stay calm. He runs his hands through his hair, dislodging a beetle and a shower of debris, tries to straighten up his clothes. He finds his phone in his pocket, the screen shattered and dead. Great. But the next woman down the track has a guy alongside her, a personal trainer maybe, so Sam steps forward hoping that he won’t intimidate them both away.
“Hey,” he says, hoarse. “Can I – I’m sorry. Can I borrow your phone?”
And then I realized Prompto was my spirit animal: by someone who hasn’t finished chapter 4
+ riding shotgun is practically a necessity +
♫♪ I. WANT TO RIDE MY CHOCOBO. ALL. DAAAAAY ♫♪ “Can’t get it out of my head!” + gun
+ “That’s right, you hate bugs” “Yeah, can’t stand ‘em”
+ why did you bring me along on this crazy ride again?? what is my purpose here alongside your private tutor/maid/mom friend and personal bodyguard??? + photo hobby + super queer + “We’re alive! Let’s celebrate by eating something DEAD! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧” + CHocObOs!!!1!!1! + HOPELESSLY PINING [I see you looking in the side mirror boy (¬
¬)] + *sigh* “Why do you have to be so photogenic?” + precious cinnamon roll, to good for this world, too pure™
+ but also potential to be a little shit