Today is the day we collect the tears of anti-carylers.
Today is the day that we finally see Daryl showing physical affection.
Today is the day that we see Carol express herself in ways like never before.
Today we finally see Caryl go canon.
Today is the day, Carylers.
TODAY IS THE DAY.
Today was amazing. My only day of the week off work. I spent it as one should, sleeping in, dressing up, looking through records, playing bass guitar, listening to music and then working it in front of a webcam because I was feeling myself. Today the sun has come out, so instead of the usual black jeans I can wear my cutie high waisted shorts that I hardly ever wear. I think I worked them today :3
I was a little inspired by Hendrix with the head band ;)
Uploading more photos because I took too many…. hahahaha
Please fire me. The second day on the job my manager called me and my colleague, who’s been assigned to train me, into his office to reprimand us because we were talking too much for the guy sitting in the cubicle behind me. My colleague is now training me with signs, notes and by pantomime.
Behind the scenes, Rafael McCall and Jordan
Parrish work their magic, and spin a cohesive, credible story to both the FBI
and the Beacon Hills’ Sheriff’s Department. Stiles thinks the FBI is the harder
sell. The Sheriff’s Department is in a mess since the news of Sheriff’s Haigh’s
arrest, and the news that he framed John Stilinski. The mayor calls in some
woman from out of state to run things in the meantime.
“They’re even auditing all the speeding tickets
we ever gave out,” Parrish tells everyone one night over pizza. “It’s gonna be
a while until things settle down.”
“Do you think anyone else was in on it?” Stiles
asks him, his mood darkening. “Apart from Haigh and Kate?”
Parrish is silent for a moment, and then he
shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know. I hope not, but I don’t know.”
Derek bumps Stiles gently with his shoulder, and
Stiles forces himself to relax.
“I think we’re almost done on our end,” Rafael
McCall says. “I’m heading back to Sacramento at the end of the week. Maybe I’ll
get lucky with a nice relaxing serial killer.”
“Rafa!” Melissa exclaims.
He raises his eyebrows and steals a piece of
pepperoni. “I’m just saying, I’d sleep a lot easier at night knowing it was
just the Sacramento Slasher out there, you know?”
The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You do not blame them on your mother, the ecology, or the president. You realize that you control your own destiny.