#i realize i have a shit accent

[bradleysass]

Based on this post by @noblehouseofgay - rosekiller - word count: 510

The dungeons of Hogwarts were cold and dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows on the ancient stone walls. Most of Slytherin had retired for the evening, leaving the common room unusually quiet—save for the escalating argument brewing near the fire.

“Tu es complètement insupportable!” Evan Rosier snapped, his arms crossed over his chest, his perfectly groomed appearance marred by the furious crease in his brow.

“Ah, sì? E tu sei un idiota senza speranza!” Barty Crouch Jr. shot back, gesturing wildly with his hands as his voice climbed an octave.

Evan rolled his eyes dramatically, switching to English for a moment. “What does that even mean, Barty?”

“It means,” Barty said, leaning forward with a smirk that didn’t match the heat in his eyes, “you’re hopeless and probably as thick as this bloody wall!”

Evan gasped, affronted, and dove back into French. “Et toi, tu es un petit chien qui aboie sans réfléchir!”

“Oh, un cane, davvero?” Barty spat, his accent dripping with exaggerated disdain. “At least I don’t prance around like some pavone—peacock in those ridiculous robes of yours!”

Evan straightened, as if physically insulted. “Ridiculous?! Je suis élégant, raffiné, sophistiqué! Tu, en revanche, tu es comme un taureau dans un magasin de porcelaine!”

“Oh, certo, elegante,” Barty mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Forse nei tuoi sogni.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You’re just mad because you know I’m right.”

“Right about what, exactly?” Evan demanded, switching back to English. “Your superiore act doesn’t fool me, Barty. You think you’re so clever, so untouchable.”

“And you think you’re so perfect,” Barty shot back, his voice quieter but sharper. “The golden Rosier, heir to nothing but a crumbling legacy and a heap of pretentious rubbish.”

The silence that followed was almost deafening, the air crackling with unspoken tension.

“Va te faire foutre,” Evan muttered under his breath, turning to leave.

Barty grabbed his wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Aspetta,” he said, his voice softer, almost pleading. “Don’t.”

Evan looked back, his eyes still flashing with anger but tinged with something else—something fragile. “What do you want from me, Barty?” he asked in English, his voice quieter now.

Barty hesitated, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a split second. “Forse... voglio te. Maybe I just want you,” he said, his Italian words soft, almost reverent.

Evan blinked, startled by the vulnerability in Barty’s tone. “Tu es tellement frustrant,” he murmured, but the heat in his voice had cooled.

“E tu sei insopportabile,” Barty replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Evan sighed, exasperated. “So we agree, then.”

“That you’re frustrating and I’m insufferable?” Barty asked, his smirk returning. “Absolutely.”

Evan rolled his eyes but didn’t pull his wrist away. Instead, he let Barty tug him closer, their argument melting into a charged silence that spoke louder than their words ever could.

“Idiote,” Evan muttered one last time, though his lips twitched into the faintest of smiles.

“Sempre tuo,” Barty replied smugly. Always yours.

And for once, Evan didn’t argue.

[orangerosebush]

Socmed discussions about Saltburn, to me —

1) reveal that people are even more squeamish about explicit gay sexuality than they think they are

(And if this is what passes for shocking erotic excess, then we, in the anglosphere, are in a more — not making a comment about individuals here — restrained moment with mainstream American/British adult cinema than we were with mainstream adult heterosexual cinema in the 90s, eg the erotic thriller)

And

2) suggest people are increasingly making art that is in conversation with, if not explicitly nostalgic for, the 2010-16 Tumblr-era.

(I really truly suspect Saltburn is, in part, an adaptation of the tropes and aesthetics that were in certain “The Social Network” fan spaces.)

[jankwritten]

yall wanna know how fucked up my anxiety is about some shit

i scroll past a post that's about a topic i don't like. whatever, it's fine. i scroll past a video that's a topic i don't care about. that's normal.

i scroll past a video that's a topic i don't like or care about but the person presenting it is a person of color? i IMMEDIATELY feel immensely guilty and need to "compensate" by "proving" it wasn't because of race by also skipping other random posts, JUST IN CASE someone thinks I'm racist because I didn't want to watch a video on a topic I didn't like or care about, that happened to be presented by a person of color.

this just in on: the police in my brain are loud and i'm scared of them

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day twelve

"Did you hear that?"

original fiction (dungeons and dragons)

word count: 802

“Come in, come in.” Raife pulled Suvi into his studio from the snowstorm. “By Palter’s grace, you look rough.”

“I’m just cold,” she said, teeth chattering. Even under her cloak, she was shivering. Winter was - not harder this year, since this was still last year’s winter. It was just hard. 

Suvi let him remove her coat and shucked off her boots, before she headed for the hearth. The small studio contained the heat much better than the high ceilings of the temple of Palter where she had hailed from. But the fire didn’t warm her as much as she’d hoped. 

“I can’t believe you braved this storm,” he said, hanging her cloak. “I’ll make us some tea.”

“Thank you.” Suvi sunk further into her chair. “That would be great.” 

She always liked escaping - though it wasn’t like she was being held prisoner - to Raife’s place. It was nice to chat and enjoy tea, to admire his paintings and his handsome face as he showed them off to her. 

The storm was rough, yes. It might foolish to leave her quarters in the rectory to see him. But the trip had not been that bad. Just a little longer and more treacherous than usual. 

Raife brought his pot to the fire and sat in the chair besides hers, grabbing her hand. “My gods. You really need to remember to wear your gloves. Your little fingers are going to freeze off, my dear.” 

Suvi chuckled. “Did I forget them again?” 

He leaned over to brush her cheek. “Yes, you did.” Raife frowned. “You’re awfully warm for someone who’s been out in the snow.” 

“I must’ve worked myself up coming over,” she said. 

“Are you feeling ill?” 

She shut her eyes and shook her head. “No. I’m fine.” 

It was true that the long winter had left her feeling frailer than usual. The cold hit her smaller frame harder than the taller races like the humans and elven folk of Fallegur. Not to mention that she had been prepping hard for the storm with the congregants who needed shelter or warmth in the bad weather. 

The last thing she needed was Raife worrying over her. 

He didn’t seem that convinced as he settled back in his own seat. But he merely sighed and crossed his legs. 

“How has the studio been? No visitors today, I assume?” 

“No,” he said. “I assume that any travelers from the other clans can’t dock in this weather, and those who could would rather hunker down in their own ships or the taverns.” However, Raife seemed as skeptical of his own words as hers. 

“Well, when the weather lightens up, I’m sure people will be flocking to see your paintings. And buy them. Maybe being inside will make them think they need some landscapes of the Isle of Splendor’s meadows to remind them of summer in this dreadful snow.”

“Hopefully.” 

The kettle whistled, warm enough for tea and he carefully filled her cup. It warmed her fingers, just a tad frostbitten. The steam was so nice in her face. Suvi took a long sip, the floral scent reminding her of spring days that felt so faraway. She closed her eyes, sinking further into the chair. 

As she drank her tea, Raife stood up. “Perhaps it’s best you stay here for the night.” 

“But the other priests-” she said. 

“They’ll hardly notice,” he said. “And you can just say you were checking up on one of your congregants who scarcely allowed you to go back out there.” He took a quilt, the reds and yellows reminding her of the clan banners that flew the few times she had gone on a raid as support, and laid it over her. “Rest.” 

Suvi finished her tea and set the cup on the table between their chairs, before she settled in fully. The rate at which she sank into sleep surprised her. 

Her sleep was dreamless, comforting darkness. But then she heard a voice - not Raife’s, a voice much more deep and mirthful. 

“Suvi. Suviii.” 

She startled awake. Raife was perched in his chair, a sketchpad in his lap. 

“Did you hear that?” she asked him, eyes wide. 

“What?” 

“Palter. He was calling my name,” Suvi said. Her heart was racing now. 

“Palter? Dear, whatever do you mean?” he asked. 

“I have to go.” She stood up, making sure the quilt was out of reach of the hearth. 

Raife set his sketchpad to the side. “Wait, the storm’s only gotten worse.” 

“I’ll be fine.” Suvi grabbed her cloak. “He’s calling me.” 

“Let me walk you-” 

“No.” She turned back to face Raife, ready to grab his own cloak and follow her. “They won’t be happy to know where I’lve been.” Suvi nodded, eyes wild. “I have to tell them I’ve been sent a sign.”

[moe-broey]

I don't really consider this a spoiler/might not even take this route anyway, but. Sharena Engage active wear color palette. Choose.

Also factoring in my notes from when I flipped through all the chara's outfits to find The Pattern

Okay NOW you can Choose

Another thing you can consider is having the shoes be all one color/Not having the second color stripe accent. I noticed some characters wouldn't have that as part of their palettes! Seemed arbitrary which ones would and which ones wouldn't!

[kimmkitsuragi]

look this will be extremely 2016-core of me to say but. 16 year old me would genuinely cry if she saw dan and phil announcing their gaming channel is back with a video featuring jacksepticeye

[majorshatterandhare]

Apparently my brain really hates when names have A, U, and R in them, because without fail, every time I go to type Arthur my brain wants to spell it “Aurthur” or perhaps “Aurthr” and every time I go to type Marius my brain wants to type “Mauris” or maybe “Maurius” or maybe “Maurias” its unclear because I *usually* notice my mistake by the end because it’s clear to me those ending are wrong. Brain just really wants “AUR” together.

[cherry-shipping]

started replaying broken age now after 6 years……… can you believe i felt a pang of jealousy and sadness that a character who is a literal silly knife with a face implied it had dated another character once (a spoon with a face)

[vaspider]

Okay listen.

It's not a Philadelphia Steak Sandwich. It's not a Philadelphia Cheesesteak.

It's just a fucking cheesesteak. It is mononymic, like Cher and Bono.

It knows where it's from.

Reblog for a bigger sample size.

Say in the tags what you voted for and if you live in or outside of the US

[yuhi-san]

had a very sucky day. im not feeling great and like i might be heading towards some emotional crisis.

god i am so glad this dude sin't really a coworker of mine. i would habve a mental breakdown or straight up get a new job. hes not even an asshole, he is just so annoying and obnocious and somehow a smug bastard and a clown at the same time

[rosegolden13]

You had long since lost track of what Captain John Price was yelling in your face. Yes, you had almost gotten yourself killed on the latest mission. Did you regret it when you realized you’d have a limp for a bit? Yes. Did you regret it now, hearing that gruff accented voice directed at you? Hell no.

Even during debriefs, you could get lost in the gentle rumble of his voice. But this right now was something different. His words were biting, filled with an intensity that you normally only saw in the midst of missions- not on base and not directed at you.

You bit down on the soft plush of your bottom lip and a moment of silence settles over you. His icy blue eyes bore into yours. It’s like staring down a dog that’s about to snap its teeth at you again. Needing to fill the silence, you gave a quick response, “What was that last part, sir?” This’ll piss him off more but that’s what you want.

He stares at you a moment, processing your audacity before exploding once again. “Bloody fuckin’ hell, Sergeant! You don’t listen to me here, you don’t listen to me on the field. It’s a fuckin’ miracle you’ve survived this long. Pull that shit again, I dare ya, girl. What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice is a low growl as he steps closer, like he’s about to reach for the back of your neck and jostle some sense into you.

Your cheeks are flushed at this point. There’s no denying that or the subtle ache between your legs. You let out a slow breath, spotting movement in your peripheral and meeting Soap’s gaze. He seems to see right through you, a cocky smirk on his face. “She’s got the hots for ya, Cap’n. Tha’s wha’s wrong with her.”

Price stares at you a moment more, completely taken aback as he reassesses you. And then he turns around, muttering something about not getting paid enough. You stand there mortified before chasing off after Soap to berate him for outing you like that.

[beancalzone]

.

[i-am-simply-here]

Me before listening to Old Gods of Appalachia: nah I don't have that much of an Appalachian accent, its more Midwestern

Me after listening to Old Gods of Appalachia:

[deadsetobsessions]

Short DPXDC prompt #2, from @stealingyourbones.

“It’ll be good for you!” Dick threw an arm around Tim’s shoulders as he beamed his way through Gotham U’s campus.

“I could have done this online. They have virtual degrees. I could have hacked my way into one.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t get the authentic experience!”

The group arrived at the dorm building, one of many, and Damian gave it a dubious once over.

“If this is authentic, I refuse to be a part of the locals.” Damian quietly remarked, before peering cautiously at Dick. “I have obtained my degrees. I do not need this experience.”

“It’s really not that bad, guys.”

“How would you know? You went to Blüdhaven for college.” Tim retorted with the voice of a young man resigned to despair. “You lived off campus and your door pin was Zitka’s birthday, month first then date second.”

“… Tim, why the fuck do you know that.”

“When I knocked on your door, that was just common courtesy. I didn’t actually need you to open it. I could have opened it myself.”

Dick’s smile brightens even further, with the light of an LED bulb instead of his usual sun, and places a hand on Tim’s head. “You’re creepy sometimes, you know that?”

“And you’re careless sometimes, you know that?” Tim groused. “Ugh, whatever. Let’s just get this over with. I can’t believe I’m going to have a roommate.”

“It’ll be fun! And if it isn’t, you can always swap roomies. We have enough pull to have that happen.”

“Doubtlessly.” Damian said. “This campus barely passes the bar of acceptability. Why is the campus like this. Why is it incorporated into the city.”

Tim smirked. Even though Damian spoke with formal language only found in the highest of echelons of society, Jon’s influence was beginning to make itself known. Good for him, the little shit. Privately, Tim thought the presence of a Kryptonian brought out the better sides of a bat. God knows Kon did, for him.

“Okay, enough whining you two! Let’s get Tim settled in.”

Tim elbowed Dick in the gut and kept walking into the building as his big brother wheezed dramatically. Damian rolled his eyes- he’s seen Nightwing take harder hits than Drake’s pointy elbows and walk it off- and followed. Unbeknownst to them, Dick all but beamed with joy at their solidarity. His plan was working.

——

Tim settled into the dorm, disgruntled at the small and uncomfortable twin mattress. The dorm smelt of faint mildew, had at least ten safety code violations, and had ventilation that probably hasn’t been cleaned since the last fear gas attack. The vent thing honestly might explain the state of Gotham U’s students and their proclivities to become supervillains. Tim is more tempted to go into villainy than ever before with these conditions.

That is, until his roomie walked in.

Step 1) reboot brain.

Holy shit, his roomie was HOT.

Step 2) notice all the weird things his roomie all showed unconsciously. Too graceful. Walking carefully, like how Kon does sometimes when he’s remembering to be careful with his fragile surroundings. Meta? Too sharp teeth.

Wait. Sharp teeth?

“Uh, hi. I’m Danny. You must be my roommate. Tim, right?” The guy, Danny, had a deep voice. And too sharp teeth. Because he smiled. It was a damn nice smile.

Step 3) bi panic. DID TIM MENTION HE WAS HOT??

“Uh. Hi. Yeah, I’m Tim.”

“Cool. What’re you majoring in?”

“Forensic Analysis. You?”

“Aerospace engineering.”

They looked at each other awkwardly. “Cool, I’m just gonna set my stuff down.”

“You’re not from here, right?” Tim asked and promptly flushed when an amused smile gets thrown his way.

“The accent give it away?”

“Yeah. Uh. You want a tour, man?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

——

It was flashes of things.

“Oh. I don’t go anywhere without my thermos.” Danny smiled, patting the dented thing. Except, Tim’s never seen him drink from it.

Or:

“Oh, woah. Food’s not attacking me.” And the thing is, Danny actually looked apprehensive before poking at the cafeteria food.

What??

And a month passes before Tim realizes he’s one hundred percent absolutely fucked.

Because it’s one thing if it’s an extremely attractive dork with brains and humor.

It’s an entirely different thing if the extremely attractive dork with brains and humor was a complete and total mystery. Tim is an absolute sucker for mysteries. It’s even more attractive than smacking him in the face with a brick!

“Hey, Tim?”

“Uh. Yeah?” Tim screamed at himself. He’s dated like fifteen different people! Why the hell is he so awkward with Danny?

(Tim was always awkward. He has that autistic rizz.)

“Tell me more about blood splatters?” Danny asked with a hopeful smile. Tim folded like wet paper. (It helps that he knows a lot- too much- about analyzing blood splatters.)

——

Outside of their window, Nightwing cackled to himself. It was worth using the Wayne name to get Tim the most interesting college kid Dick could find as a roommate. Who said Tim had the market corner on stalking anyways?

Nightwing flipped off of the roof, all but skipping home.

Robin, his patrol partner for the night, grimaced. For all Richard was his favorite, the man unsettled him at times.

[shtuff-hello]

@mylarena I will not let you hide your tags, thank you.

... what about a story where Soap shares his flings on a scale from 1-10 with Gaz and doesn't even notice that all of them are tall, blonde and have brown eyes.

until Gaz asks him why every single one of the dudes looks like a bad copy of Ghost.

soap's whole world is falling apart.

typical bromance moment amirite

[mywritersmind]

BREAK MY HEART AND I SWEAR IM MOVIN’ ON WITH YOUR FAVORITE ATHLETE - LN4

summary : You weren’t joking when you wrote the lyric ‘Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete’. What a perfect opportunity when that same athlete falls right into the palm of your hands with your ex’s burning gaze directed straight at you.

listen up : reader wrote ‘good graces’ ! flustered lando! protective lando! sorry to anyone named nick.

words : 1519

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Need a shot of your strongest!” I slap my hand down on the bar, my friends around me and looking worried. I’m fine! I’m absolutely fine!

Is my ex currently across the room from me? Yes! But I'm cool, I'm calm, and I'm collected.

I down the bitter liquor, pushing back my hair and taking a breath. “Fuck him.” I mumble as my friend's hand goes to my arm. I’m completely over him, but every time my eyes land on that jerk I can’t help but remember how I caught him fucking his assistant.

Jackass wasn’t even talented enough to have an assistant, I should have known.

I start dancing, forgetting about my hatred and focusing on my friends. The true loves of my life! I throw my hands up, ‘Cupid's Chokehold’ playing as we all sing around and laugh.

I hear the mumbling and whispering instantly, a new ground walking into the exclusive club my friends pulled me into. My best friend squeals, grabbing my arm, “That’s Lando Norris!”

I raise a brow, still dancing and turning to see the man and his own group. I recognize a few from when my ex would get up at 4AM to see their races.

Formula 1 drivers have a reputation… most worse than any other soccer or hockey player. I watch Lando, a drink in his hand as his eyes scan the crowd.

The reputation makes sense, a face like that doesn’t just shrug off girls.

I turn before he can see me. He doesn’t know who I am, I doubt any F1 driver knows a borderline inappropriate pop star.

“You have to talk to him!” She screams, jumping up and down in her heels now.

“No!” I laugh and think she’s going to drop it until she gives me an annoyed look.

“That’s hypocritical!” I laugh, how the fuck is that hypocritical? I am forced to realize what she’s referring to as I turn and see my ex standing in front of the driver.

He’s smiling like the idiot he is, asking for a photo and clearly going on for too long. Lando is his absolute favorite driver, I couldn’t escape his face for the two years I was dating my ex.

My friend's smile grows, and she starts singing. “Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete!” she’s off key and definitely drunk, pushing my arm she laughs, “This is your fucking time! It’s your own words! He broke your heart babe!”

At her last words I frown, making up some excuse to get another drink. I look back at Lando as I walk back to the bar, my ex is still there but I catch Lando’s eye, accidentally sending him a disgusting look.

I rip my eyes away and order another drink. I sip on it, my legs crossed on a bar stool and my back against the counter as I watch my ex go back to his friends.

I know he sees me, and I'm grateful he hasn’t said anything. He’s an asshole and I'm upset that he’s ruining my night by his proximity to my friends and I.

“Do I know you?” The unfamiliar accent catches me off guard, looking away from my ex and up at Lando Norris. Shit.

“Um… No?” I sip my drink again, trying to ignore his arm resting behind me and how delicious he smells.

“So why were you death glaring at me?” I can’t help but laugh at this, his brow quirks when I do.

“I wasn’t! Not at you at least…” I look back to my ex, nodding, “I was glaring at him.”

“Well he must have done something really bad to you because that look was damn scary.” I bring my lips to my glass again, locking eyes with his that are so green, even in the club lights.

“He’s my ex.”

Lando looks genuinely surprised at this, “Your… ex?” he points and nod, “Yours? As in dating ex?”

“Yes. What other type of ex is there?”

Lando shrugs, eyeing him and shaking his head, “Sorry. I genuinely just don’t believe it! He’s…” He stops himself, like he realizes he’s actually speaking out loud, “Well you’re way out of his league! You’re fucking gorgeous, and honestly on my to-do list of the night.”

I raise a brow at this as his eyes go wide, “I mean I wanted to talk to you! Not in a creepy way! In a genuine way.” I turn towards him more and clock the sincerity in his voice, “So, i’m assuming you broke up with the dick?”

“He cheated on me.” Lando’s jaw drops at this, “Okay shut up now you’re just boosting my ego.”

“It deserves to be boosted! Fucking hell, asshole. Shouldn’t have let him take a photo.” He smirks at me and it makes my smile return, “You do look familiar though…”

“I’m a singer, Y/n L/n.”

He laughs, tapping his fingers against the counter, “I know you! My teammate's girlfriend is obsessed! You're the one with the funny lyrics.” By ‘funny’ he means horny as fuck.

I nod, “And you’re my ex’s favorite athlete.” He cringes at this.

“Not yours?”

“I know nothing about Formula 1.” I shrug as his hands go to his curls, “But I do know you.”

His smile widens at this, his eyes soft, “I like that.”

Lando is nothing like I imagined. I thought he would be annoying and honestly a dick, but instead he’s just flirty and actually hilarious.

He’s cute too, buys me a drink, moves his hand to the outside of my leg to pull down my dress that’s riding up my thigh.

Fuck those lyrics, I want him.

He’s funny and ridiculously stunning, “You know- once I mentioned that you were cute, not even hot or anything, and Nick didn’t talk to me for two hours!”

Lando scoffs, “That’s just rude.” he motions to his face, “Anyone could see i’m adorable.”

“Fuck, now i’m boosting your ego!”

He smiles, “You’re doing that by just looking at me.” He's a flirt and I love him for it.

He’s looking at me like I hung the moon. We just met and he’s leaning down to hear what I'm saying over the loud music, his hand never leaving me.

I reach up and twirl a piece of his hair around my finger, “I like your curls.”

“Thanks love…” the nickname comes out smooth and easy. Far too dangerous for someone I barely know and someone I really like.

He tells me about his travel schedule and how he likes my dress. I tell him where I live and when I tour… “I wanna see you perform.”

I laugh, his hand still on my leg, “I barely know you.”

“Easy fix. Come home with me tonight.” It’s straightforward and risky, yet very tempting. “I’ll let you know everything about me.”

I bite my lip as his eyes stray from mine, “Norris.” I say sternly as he nods, slowly looking back at my eyes with a cheeky look on his face.

“Yes or no, love? Break my heart, it’s fine!” He says dramatically as I laugh and roll my eyes, leaning away from him before his hand finds my waist and pulls me closer, “You don’t have to. I’m just offering…”

“Get me a water, then we’ll see.” His smirk is back and his hand lingers on me before walking down to where the barista is flirting with a pretty girl and not paying any attention to us.

I smile as he leaves, waving to my friends as they motion to text them and blow me a kiss. I’m still smiling when someone slides next to me.

“Y/n!” I know the voice instantly and it makes me feel sick. He’s beaming as if he is privileged to see me, which he is, but he shouldn’t look so happy.

“Nick.” I say, my smile gone and my warm and fuzzy feeling disappeared.

“I didn’t know you were here!” Liar. “How’ve you been?”

“You mean how have I been since I caught a girl sucking your limp dick?” I say with my brows raised, “Oh just peachy.”

His smile falters. Dickhead.

My actual savior returns, a head turning smile on his face until he sees my ex. Lando walks past him, not even sparing a glance and handing me my ice water.

“Ready to go?” His hand is warm on my hip, his gaze cold when looking at the man who stares at the two of us.

“Sorry… what?” Nick is genuinely frozen in place as I pop out of my seat, Lando gripping me with both hands now. Shit his hands are big.

“Mate… she wrote it in a song.” He nods at him as I grin, a straw at my lips and giggle in my throat. Lando leans down close to my ear as we walk away. I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “I’ll show you a real man.”

@//YOURUSERNAME

liked by landonorris, lilymunihe, and carlossainz…

yourusername i’m a woman of my word🤷🏻‍♀️

landonorris definitely lost a fan but gained the most important person in my life. i love you😘❤️

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