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official daine visual archive
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YOU ARE THE REASON
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
cherry valley forever
todays bird
oozey mess
EXPECTATIONS
Mike Driver
Game of Thrones Daily
roma★
Color Me Curious
ellievsbear
RMH
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
macklin celebrini has autism
ojovivo
The Stonewall Inn
NASA
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Romania
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from Lebanon
seen from Venezuela
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Paraguay
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Romania
@iceprincessisa-blog
THEODORE CROW &. ISABELLA BUCHANON for cirque empire’s underground portraiture series. in which an “unwilling” isa poses for FIRE AND ICE and gives theo his first family portrait, which he keeps crookedly hung at the top of the manor’s staircase. (@shaniwrites)
FIRE & ICE IN THREE PARTS: we said no strings, but now we’re in knots / everything’s blurry, but the f e e l i n g s are real / … what i have with you, i don’t want with anyone else ( x / x / x )
( @crooked-queen )
princepractical:
The temperaments of artistic talent no longer shocked, ruffled, or worried him. (He lived through the living moonstorm that was Adina, after all, nearly constantly, and loved her better for it.) He thought he had managed to get most of it–the sneeze–into his elbow, but perhaps not. It had been sudden. Piero was only in this moment feeling the glum resignation of someone who would have to take better care of himself than he’d really prefer to do. He blinked rapidly, nodded placidly. He stepped back and performed a very shallow bow, little more than a bob of his head.
“Again, I am truly sorry,” he said, unflinchingly enduring the touch of her frost. Piero saw the skates in her hand and suddenly–
“Ah, you–you are Isa, I think?”
"Oh, well, at least you’re sorry.” Isa replied rudely. It had been a long time since she had been unwell, the diet she followed when she was training had been constructed by expensive dietitian and nutritionists who ensured the wellness of the Buchanon family investment. The last thing she wanted to listen to was her mother insisting that Cirque and her (now, rather poor) diet was what she gained by leaving competitive figure skating.
Shame. When in reality, it was just a member of the Italian Invasion.
At least this one recognised her, and didn’t request something of her like that girl at the party. Isa felt like she had changed so much in the past two years that she was unrecognisable, but still expected someone to realise who she was anyway. “I am -- until I die from whatever you just sneezed all over me." Though she was starting to feel a bit bad: Isa had a habit of holding onto things for a little too long. So long, that even she was starting to find it tiring.
“So, what? The Circus wasn’t in town until we had our own jester?” Isa asked, trying hard to be pleasant, and eyeing his costume that clashed with her own frosted leotard.
…fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.
Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo
i love myself but i dont love me back
kierazorel:
look-a-rp-meme:
Send… 😊 for a flirty text 😍 for a love text 😱 for a hyper text 👎 for an irritated text 😳 for a sexy text
Here’s some more because I obviously love emojis and text memes:
😂 for a drunk text 😏 for a snarky text 😝 for an excited text 😞 for an anxious text 😠 for an angry text 😅 for an accidental text 🤐 for a gossip text 😵 for an exhausted text 👻 for a scary text 💀 for a morbid text ❗️for an urgent text 💩 for a shitty text 👀 for a creepy text 💔 for a heartbreaking text
►
Send me ► for a text not meant for you
[ text ] theo you can’t just leave????[ text ] YOU CANT JUST LEAVE ME HERE[ text ] theo i need my fucking panties [ text ] i know you’re probably loving the idea that i’m going to walk out of the bathroom and back into the bar in just my dress ur wrong bc unless you bring me back my underwear i’m not coming out [ text ] THEO CROW[ text ] literally if i walk out of this bathroom before you’ve brought me back my underwear you’re not having any kind of round two for like a week[ text ] no two weeks[ text ] no sex for two weeks[ text ] no isa for two weeks[ text ] ah fuck sorry brookie please just delete all of those[ text ] theo and i aren’t likei idk we’re not together so we’re nothing
He sneezed in the middle of a chord. Even he was surprised.
Piero sat hunched over the body of his father’s guitar–reddish brown, glossy in places, not so much in others, dented and scratched in interesting ways and at odd corners–blinking away the itchy tingling at the back of his sinuses. Until this moment, he had credited his vague “off” feelings to a mild, lingering hangover, even if he had long since should have recovered from just a few cocktails and an indifferent night of sleep. Piero wasn’t often sick, that was all.
He cast about for something he might use for a tissue. Piero had set himself up in the parlor rooms, just an hour or two before the entertainments began full force. He was in costume–a fantastical, billowy shirtsleeves, striped trousers and an imaginative take on a matching waistcoat, a stripe domino mask cocked on his head to pull down when it was time for a flourish–but it was more serviceable than eye-catching. I am a part of this world–don’t mind me–but if you would direct your attention to the lady on the trapeze …
Piero stood up, ducking his head under the strap when suddenly he remembered–with a grim jolt, how could anyone forget?–that sneezes usually came in pairs. He had about a second to quickly throw his nose and mouth into the crook of his elbow, just as someone had the misfortune to pass by.
“I’m sorry–sorry,” he managed to croak, sniffling a little. “Ugh–I must have picked something up somewhere …”
Venetians. They were everywhere.
Isa had taken barely three steps into Cirque that afternoon and already felt her spine tingle -- in disgust, and not the anticipation that the troupe was probably used to. She’d remembered her words to her friends the other night. It truly felt like an invasion, or better yet, an infestation. The walls felt like they were crawling with them, but they were too smooth and quick to get stuck under her feet. She didn’t believe that there was only ten.
Ten too many.
It even felt like they multiplied by the thousand as the afternoon became the evening, like bacteria streaming through her winter circus. As she walked, she ignored them, not offering a smile nor a nod nor allowing any recognition to cross her face. They could think her rude, unapproachable, bitchy, icey, anything they wanted. Isa would just insist that she didn’t think anything of them at all.
Yet as she walk past a joker or a jester of sorts, skates in hand and slightly out of breath from her performance, she couldn’t ignore the moist jet of air that shot out at her. Isa stopped in her tracks, her teeth gritted as she tried desperately not to breathe in, to let it go, to ignore the speckles of spit that had somehow managed to scatter her from her shimmery collarbones to her sequinned-covered hips. Bacteria indeed.
Isa turned, her eyes frosted over as they so often were, but her face fighting hard to disguise her shock. There were some things that even Isa could not ignore. “You picked it up from somewhere.” Isa said flatly, fighting a sudden (and uncharacteristically violent) urge to hit the jester over the head with her skates. “You picked it up from somewhere.” She repeated, genuinely still in shock that she had been sneezed on by someone who didn’t even belong at Cirque.
“Did you... consider, I don’t know, that maybe I don’t want to pick it up from you?” Isa asked, expectantly this time.
“I swear, if it was you that hid my swords I will use them to slice your throat.” Crystal muttered at the offending human who’d walked into the wrong part of the cirque at the definitive wrong time. She’d already torn apart her entire dressing room, along with her sister’s. Obviously, someone had hidden them.
“I have never in my life just ‘lost’ something.” Crystal announces, more to herself than the other person who’s listening in. “I take that back. I’ve possibly lost my mind, and i’ll do it all over again if these turn up somewhere obvious.” Crystal drops to the floor, searching under the couch. “What are you doing just standing there, help me!”
“Well there’s a first time for everything,” Isa mused. She’d not allowed even an ounce of effort into considering whether to help Crystal; she just didn’t really want to. The pair were not enemies, but nor were they friends either. Isa had clumped the two Belrose belles and their southern accents in a group with the Fellows long ago -- and, now the Venetian Troupe, too, it seemed.
Isa stood for a moment, watching this grown woman laying on the floor in search of something that mattered to her so much. She could relate, she supposed, to the idea of misplacing her skates. Their blades slice through the ice just as Crystal’s would when she wielded them in triumphant excitement once again, similarly sharpened to slice -- the long, deep scar pressed forever into Isa’s left shin a constant reminder. So Isa hovered. “I’m good at putting things back where they belong, so... no. I might just observe for a bit. Besides, I don’t think my face would look as good pressed up against a dirty floor.”
rosexylouris:
invisiblebluelily:
As much as she loved her dress from the evening, Lily couldn’t deny that it was far more comfortable to be wrapped up in the over sized sweater she had been wearing earlier. That coupled with a particularly comfortable pair of joggers and she was in a much better mood than she had been at Cirque. She had been about to pull her glass away when champagne was already being poured, forcing her to stay still. Grinning in spite of herself, Lily took a sip and raised her eyebrows at Rose, who looked like she had had far more to drink than she had.
“No one says 411, anymore,” she scoffed, tucking her legs up to the side, curling in further to the side of the couch. It appeared, however, that her comment had gotten swallowed up in the ensuing comments about the new troupe. The redhead could feel her nose scrunching up at the thought of them. “I doubt they’re part of any kind of mob,” Lily picked a bit of fuzz off of her sweater, “they’re all too—” nice? soft? touchy? “One of them hugged me and another one called me beautiful. I think, or something like that. If they’re in a mob, I fear their well being,” Lily said, shaking her head.
Lily snickered at Isa’s comments, taking yet another sip of her champagne. “How many of them are even here?”
“You’re fucking welcome,” she replied, blissfully unaware of Isa’s curt tone. Dancing away from the mirror, Rose waved her hand dismissively at the menu Isa had thrown towards her, barely even looking at it.”Order whatever, just get me some wine - that’s a food group. I plan on being fully wasted when I wake tomorrow so that I don’t have to deal with a hangover,” she finished in a dreamy tone of voice. Reaching for the clasp of her dress, envious that both Isa and Lily had taken their own dresses off, she attempted to pull the dress off, drunken fingers tripping on the zipper. “A little help would be appreciated,” she sighed, looking over her shoulder.
She spared a second to stick her tongue out at Lily’s quiet scoff before her thoughts wandered off, listening to Isa’s tirade. “And they can’t possibly be nice, Lils, didn’t you hear Isa? The nerve,” she teased, faux-scandalized. She waltzed closer to the two of them. “For thinking someone as pretty-” she interrupted herself by leaning to plant a smacking kiss on Isa’s cheek, gesturing madly. “- as Isa could be waitstaff - oh, the nerve of those Venetian gangsters!” She swooned, arm over her eyes.
“Anyway, there’s like ten or something. And not many of them guys - but don’t worry, I’ll find you a bachelor too, Lily - or I guess it’d be easier to find a bachelorette. Speaking of bachelors, Isa, I’m pretty sure either the unicyclist or the illusionist has your number now. Or maybe it’s mine. I don’t remember,” she shrugged.
"We finally know why Lily hangs out with us!” Isa exclaimed, dropping her empty champagne glass onto a duvet so thick the glass barely made noise. She pulled herself onto her knees in one swift movement, the room spinning delightfully, in a way that only made Isa cackle with glee. “Because we hugged her and we tell her that she’s beautiful, and so she wants to be our friend, and now--” Isa pointed to Lily, her best friend a bit closer than she realised and bopped her on the nose. “Now, she’s going to go be with those Venetian Villains.”
“Too many.” Isa slumped back against her padded headboard, the plush pillows catching her in an elegant recline. The bed was made in vain each morning, and turned down in equal measure each night. “One’s some fun, two’s... I don’t know, already too many, and three’s a crowd, and ten’s... I don’t even know, I can’t think of something to rhyme with ten, thats how stupid this is.” But the Venetian Troupe would be the acts that draw the crowd -- and Isa couldn’t ignore the swirl of annoyance (and, perhaps, a twinge of jealousy?) at the idea of anyone owning the winter circus but Cirque’s very own Ice Princess. “But Rose if you could stop giving my number to random guys that would be great. Give them your’s. And actually your’s not just mine because you can’t remember your own number... Or Lily’s even! Give them Lily’s.”
thomasxblue:
Coming to New York an only child—(and, ostensibly, despite his continued boyish indiscretions, an adult)—he hadn’t expected his father’s remarriage to change him unduly, to encroach upon the independence his parents had granted him from a young age. He hadn’t expected to think much of Lily at all, something he’s unsure he’s ever quite told her, and he certainly hadn’t expected the two of them to become nearly-inseparable.
Stranger, too, is how that seemed to multiply, because his sister, when she isn’t with him, is part of the three-headed creature of Isa, Lily, and Rose. And Thomas had seen that for the opportunity it was, expanding the teasing of his sister onto her two friends, unerring showing up whenever he could while they were together, inserting himself into their conversations—and, it couldn’t be denied, flirting. It’s his default setting.
(But Isa, of course, is more than just Lily’s best friend. Thomas is not unaware of the petty rivalry between Bella and Isa, and every time he talks to Isa he has to resist the urge to crane his head around to see if Bella is there, if she notices, if she’s as jealous as Isa had been when Bella put on her skates. He can only hope that she would be.)
“We can both be the view,” he says, magnanimously, leaning back on his hands as he watches Isa ascend the ladder up to his small portion of this Empire. It’s slow going, and when she settles she seems to do so very carefully. “Scared?” Thomas asks, teasing. And then adds, with the ease of a line used many times before—“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”
“Not that your family can’t afford it but if you were to let me fall,” Isa gestured to the ground which now seemed very, very far away. “There would be a handful of parties intent on placing financial blame for my loss on you.” It made her uneasy to joke about it -- and if she gave it longer than a moment’s thought then she’d have realised that her parents would probably rather enjoy getting some kind of compensation for her time at Cirque. Her life ended in Sochi to them, anyway, with a different kind of fall.
She mused for a moment, taking in Cirque from this angle, getting used to the height and the stability of the platform. "It’s different up here than over there.” Isa pointed to the long, slender, well-hidden scaffolding that housed a few lights and held up at least one important structural necessity, that she was pulled up onto after her performances. Usually when she was up there the ground below her was black, but it was secure and the platform that she had climbed up onto to meet Thomas felt anything but.
“Considering you didn’t have enough hangover vertigo -- try saying that three times fast,” Isa smiled a bit (still uncomfortable from the height) as she spoke, “-- Anyway, enough vertigo to stop you from climbing up that ladder, I don’t think you drank nearly enough last night.”
infernofiera:
Twas the morning after the night before. Cinderella might have made her escape as the clock struck twelve, but the rest of them were partying long into the night - where darkness gave way to day - and the sun reminded them to flee. Some simply collapsed where they had been before, lolling across lounges or sprawled across bar stools. Others had stumbled into hotel rooms (some alone, others with new found company). A few, very few, had found their way back to where they belonged, no doubt up to nurse the hangover. Fiera had found herself in the company of one unsuspecting cocktail waiter. Predictably, he hadn’t lasted the night - and when she awoke, it was alone.
Having long made herself immune to hangovers - for she was the most toxic thing in her own system - the natural place to transverse seemed to be cirque, in anticipation of what was yet to come. Strangely quiet, with few for company, she found solace in its empty beauty, a reminder that it was people who truly brought the magic to life. Hearing footsteps behind her, she pivoted - eyes landing upon a recognizable face. “I know it seems empty now - but just wait for tonight. Everyone will be fighting over vanities. There won’t be enough gin to go around.”
Isa relished being at Cirque alone. Without bodies filling the audience and the wings backstage, the air had a comforting chill to it that reminded Isa of skating on a rink, all eyes on her, and all waiting for her to win gold. Especially in her earlier weeks, Isa would come down when she knew no one was around, armed only with a nice boy who would control her aerial equipment, and practice until she got more comfortable with being lifted into the air. That comfort brought something a lot more effortless, and Isa constantly worked on that as well as her skating, with the expertise and drive that bloomed in Olympic-trained athletes.
Today was not one such day, but her usual options of Bloody Mary’s from the lobby bar and coffee from across the street were doing little to help nurse Isa’s hang over. She’d decided to fit herself in somewhere down at Cirque, coaxed in by the dim lighting and cool, clean air.
Wallowing in the self-pity that her hangover had brought with it, Isa didn’t even recognise the person walking in front of her as their ringmaster, until Fiera turned and began talking to Isa, who scrambled to remove her headphones and missed just about everything the older woman said except for the word Gin -- the only word Isa would want to hear even less in her current state was probably champagne... and maybe vodka.
“I know I’d rather leave the gin on the table, and not hear that word ever again, in favour of something that doesn’t bring up queasy memories of last night.”
“The night’s still young,” Rose whooped, heels in hand, stumbling next to Isa and Lily as they made their way back up to Isa’s suite - which, undoubtedly, still looked a mess from earlier when they were preparing for the party. She pushed her way in somehow, giggling, vision tinged pink from the champagne she’d been drinking earlier. Dropping her heels unceremoniously in the approximate area of the doorway, she waltzed in as if it were her own room - and honestly, given the amount of time she spent in Isa’s room, it may just as well have been her own. Leaning closer into a mirror, she squinted into the reflective surface, flipping her hair and wiping the remnants of a stranger’s lipstick off of her cheek.
“So girlies,” she said exuberantly, still hogging all of the space in front of Isa’s mirror. “What is the 411. What is the hot goss,” she drawled, in her best drunken imitation of some movie they’d watched somewhere - details unimportant. “Ooh, I know,” she cut in, ignoring the fact that she was answering herself, and snapping her fingers in the general direction of Isa and Lily. “The newbies. The Italian mob. Venetian group? - something like that. Thoughts? I definitely told one of them that Isa liked the curve of their ass,” she said, grinning impishly.
Isa had stripped from her dress (now thrown over the chaise lounge against the window), removed her make up, and pulled on something way more comfortable before even Lily had arrived. The wait for her two best (and only) girl friends to arrive felt like eternity, but Isa had started on the bottle of champagne without them anyway. “Nice of you to finally join the rest of us, Rose.” Isa called, unable to hide the curtness from her tone, topping up the flutes in her and Lily’s hands before pouring one for their friend. She didn’t really mean it, but she was starving and they’d promised to wait for Rose to arrive before ordering snacks.
"You’re a piece of work!” Isa told her, flinging the room menu to land on the floor beside her, impatient to eat. Between the champagne room and the dancing, Isa didn’t remember seeing any food downstairs at all. “Mob is right -- this girl basically asked me to get her a refill and I swear she was one of them, how entitled do you have to be?” -- Isa, still a bit sour that none of them had recognised her. She pointed to the menu on the floor, ignored thus far better than Isa could ignore her stomach “Pick. A. Food!”
“Also she looked like she’d been crying her entire life. Like you know when people just look swollen from crying? Her eyes just had that swollen look... pretty sure they have eye cream in Italy.”
There’s something about the circus in its in-between stages—after last night’s party, before tonight’s performance—that feels forbidden. More than that, it feels lush with potential, like some great sleeping creature waiting to take a big, deep breath, the kind that will shake the entire world. And Thomas, of course, is giddy in a boyish way at the feeling of peering behind the curtain, unraveling the magic, being a part of it all. And there’s a particular romance to the Winter Circus, like living inside of a snowglobe, Thomas tumbling and falling when it’s shaken and shaken again. Down here, the snow is fake and all the better because of it. It stays pristine, unlike the slush that lines the streets above.
The best place to survey it all? Atop the platform that he will fall from later tonight, seats full and crowd rapt, Thomas defying death and stealing breath, doing it again and again, a trick that has yet to get old. It has gotten more comfortable, he gravitates towards ledges without fear now, dangling his feet over the edge a serenity he can find nowhere else. He isn’t selfish, though. A feeling so grant must be shared, and so when he sees a figure down below, he calls down to them. “Care to join me? The view’s great, I promise.”
She’d spent the morning moping about, glassy eyes hidden behind a pair of huge Prada sunglasses that don’t usually leave the case. No pot of coffee was enough to perk her up, and no bottle of water was enough to keep her pounding headache at bay. It had simply subsided slowly as she spent significant amounts of Christmas money along Fifth Ave.
Isa meandered into Cirque earlier than usual; she’d had a rare day to herself following the party and didn’t have Rose and Lily around to coax her into splitting a bottle of Dom with them in her suite before they went down to get into costume. It always felt like home to Isa down here, familiar. A slight chill
“Who’s the view, Thomas?” Isa called up with a smirk, her finger nail trailing up her coffee cup, “Me or you?” Months of teasing Lily about how “nervous” their brother made Rose and her had become a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts, and Isa actually found herself hyperaware whenever the other Blue sibling was around.
But Isa abandoned her coffee cup and shoes at the bottom of the ladder anyway, and started climbing. Climbing down ladders was something she did on a near-nightly basis, skates thrown over her shoulder and the small strings that lifted her onto a high platform disappearing above her. As she approached Thomas, though, she realised that climbing up was a whole other story. Isa pulled herself onto the platform, legs shaking and hands more clammy than she would have expected, waiting a few moments before she had the strength to pull herself into a sitting position -- legs straddling the platform so she couldn’t fall backwards -- and exhaled.
“Thought you might appreciate the view more if she came up here to join you.”
YOU GUESSED IT. (all please)
Send me ☺ for a loving/affectionate text
[ text ] what i have with you i dont want with anyone else[ text ] i just don’t know what that is yet[ text ] but i do wnat you
Send me ♣ for a drunk text
[ text ] why don’t you leave me along e[ text ] i’m so shitty to yo all the time[ text ] nd you never leave [ text ] don’t leav e [ text ] i cant belive you havent
Send me ♥ for a sexual/naughty text
( sent on christmas day when she’s coming down the elevator tbh it’s canon and maybe a lil egg nog involved )
[ text ] my mom bought me what i’m wearing[ text ] you can make one comment about it[ text ] and laugh one time too[ text ] but anymore and you wont see what i’m wearing underneath[ text ] and she definitely didn’t buy it[ text ] i’m ur present unwrap me
Send me !! for a threatening text
[ text ] if you tell anyone what i call you in bed you’re dead theo[ text ] i mena it
Send me ☼ for a morning text
[ text ] HAPPY 2AM[ text ] we just got kicked out so[ text ] if you can find me, you can take me home
Send me ?? for a strange/vague text
[ text ] did you know a pack of crows is called a murder[ text ] at least there’d be some irony when i kill you for telling even one ant about any bed things 😊
Send me ► for a text not meant for you
[ text ] tbh we did have a great christmas together[ text ] just like chinese food, godiva was closed but we ended up in brooklyn and then
Send me ↕ for a scared/worried text
[ text ] theo i fucking saw you scam that theo[ text ] you’re going to get caught[ text ] and i dont want you to
DING DING DING ALL PLS
Send me ☺ for a loving/affectionate text
[ text ] oh my dear isa what ever would i do w/o you <3[ text ] you are the best <3333
Send me ♣ for a drunk text
[ text ] lsten [ text ] liSTN[ text ] look @ me[ text ] pssst lok @ meeeeee [ text ] ur lit on ur ohone i kno ur gettin these hand m anpther drink
Send me ♥ for a sexual/naughty text
[ text ] who knows maybe one day i’ll actually be able to match my underwear and my bra as well as you do[ text ] or better😈
Send me !! for a threatening text
[ text ] stop hiding my books[ text ] READING IS A PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE HOBBY[ text ] i swear on my life imma hide your skates
Send me ☼ for a morning text
[ text ] morning bish you up yet?
Send me ?? for a strange/vague text
[ text ] first of all ??????[ text ] seconds of all ?!?!??!?!
Send me ► for a text not meant for you
[ text ] if she finds out i’m literally dead, done, over, i’ll have to gone girl myself
Send me ↕ for a scared/worried text
[ text ] please pick up isa youre making me nervous[ text ] rose hasn’t seen you and i haven’t either did you leave??[ text ] pick up dammit
A L L
ur so ridic
Send me ☺ for a loving/affectionate text[text] i’ve got you.[text] until the world ends - i’ve got your back, isa.[text] or until we die of alcohol poisoning, i guess whichever comes first
Send me ♣ for a drunk text[text] oh my GOD isa i swear if u left me here to rot in this bar by myself i’ll kill you and then myself and kill u in the afterlife again[text] wait i see you HAHA were u in the bathroom love you so muhc xoxoxox
Send me ♥ for a sexual/naughty text[text] dw if he’s still being an asshole i’ll be ur bed warmer tonight 😘😘😘
Send me !! for a threatening text[text] stop drinking all the dom[text] i’ll hold a protest in ur room[text] FOR A WEEK[text] oh my god why aren’t you responding[text] …..oh my god if i come back to find yet another empty bottle i’m crashing at urs for a month so good luck having fun w/ ur boo then
Send me ☼ for a morning text[text] hey babes x[text] i got room service sent to ur room so save at least one mimosa for me
Send me ?? for a strange/vague text[text] hypothetically, if you were to find a bear in ur room, what would you do?[text] isa, the ringling brothers were treating him so badly n he was giving me puppy eyes WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO IN THAT SITUATION
Send me ► for a text not meant for you[text] i’m not serious about a lot of things but this is one of them: if you ever do something to her, i’ll literally end you.
Send me ↕ for a scared/worried text[text] please tell me you’re with theo… lily said she can’t get a hold of you either
