S + Alt + Reblog= REBLOG COLORIDO

amyguada:

wigettaxby:

ativepuk:

loveswigetta:

missingshit:

Es Z+Alt+Reblog xd

y cómo le hago en el móvi

en el móvil lo mantienes apretado :DD 

apretar???

SII mantienes el signo de reblog apretado

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

(Source: padrasto)

sazquatch:

peetababy:

I literally have no self control when I’m reading books I’ll skip like 6 paragraphs and read the dialogue and then feel bad and go back and read the paragraphs it’s a vicious cycle

For once this is like one of those ‘genuine relateable’ posts that I am shocked by like I 100% did not know this was a thing people did, a thing 118,000 people did.

trebled-negrita-princess:

stfusexists:

feminismandpugsarelife:

heremotionsickness:

Reblogging because I want all of my followers to be aware of just how much you can do in Photoshop, and how little of what you see on posters, in magazines and of pictures on the internet etc. are necessarily real. 

Imagine how the model feels, too. She was hired to be the most beautiful, but they still had to change her because her beauty wasn’t enough.

Not only is the general body distortion completely gross, but notice that they lighten her skin color. This is a white, blonde model, and they make her whiter. Actual white people aren’t even the ideal whiteness, so can you even imagine what models with dark skin have to endure in this industry?

so for all you girls that ask “Why can’t I look like the girls in magazines” it’s because the girls in magazines don’t even look like the girls in magazines.

trebled-negrita-princess:

stfusexists:

feminismandpugsarelife:

heremotionsickness:

Reblogging because I want all of my followers to be aware of just how much you can do in Photoshop, and how little of what you see on posters, in magazines and of pictures on the internet etc. are necessarily real. 

Imagine how the model feels, too. She was hired to be the most beautiful, but they still had to change her because her beauty wasn’t enough.

Not only is the general body distortion completely gross, but notice that they lighten her skin color. This is a white, blonde model, and they make her whiter. Actual white people aren’t even the ideal whiteness, so can you even imagine what models with dark skin have to endure in this industry?

so for all you girls that ask “Why can’t I look like the girls in magazines” it’s because the girls in magazines don’t even look like the girls in magazines.

castielismycherrypie:

dubsexplicit:

wet—kitty:

no one will ever understand the deep fucking connection I have with this film

For real though

Ok guys I need to talk about this movie.

The Breakfast Club came out in 1985 and to this day is, in my opinion, one of the greatest damn movies ever to barely even have a script.

During the famous “dance” scene, Molly Ringwald, who played the “princess” Claire, was supposed to a small little dance by herself, but she was shy so all of them did some dancing together, creating one of the most famous film scene’s to date. It was improvised.

During the scene in the film where the characters sat down and told why they were their, there was NO SCRIPT. John Huges told the cast to sit there and improvise why they thought their characters were there, creating that heart wrenching scene everyone could relate to.

EVERYONE can relate to this movie and thats the best damn thing. 

On March 24, 1984, five students entered a detention room thinking it was just another Saturday. Before the day was over, they broke the rules, bared their souls, and touched each other in a way they never dreamed possible.

EVERYONE IN THE WORLD NEEDS TO SEE THE BREAKFAST CLUB.

(Source: david-own-world)

dandylionclifford:

ekarusryndren:

anotherfirebender:

m1ssred:

chemical reaction

*how to spawn demons: a beginner’s guide to chemistry

image

THIS MAKES ME WANT TO PLAY WITH FIRE

cuddleholic:

pinkxst:

extriquee:

scienceyoucanlove:

darksuntheenderdragon:

moonstruckmod:

bempie:

ask-drunken-lin-bei-fong:

charitywaterproject:



EVERY REBLOG GENERATES 1-5 CENTS DONATION TO CHARITY: WATER
More RE-BLOGS = More DONATIONS = More LIVES SAVED
100% of donations directly fund water projects for communities in need, and we prove each one using photos and GPS coordinates on Google Maps.
$20  = 1 CHILD CLEAN WATER FOR 20 YEARS
Richard :-)


REBLOG 5,000,000 TIMES

WHERE ARE THERE SO LITTLE NOTES YOU GUYS
REBLOG THIS SAVE SOME LIVES.

Oh okay.

I can’t not reblog.
I care too much.

reblogging this to remind myself to donate when I get my purse 

reblogging this because I really want them to live like we do.

A MUST TO REBLOG

PLEASE REBLOG. I don’t care if it’s truth or not. But it may be, and you have to understand that this is REALLY important. When you get your hands dirty you just go to the bathroom and clean them. Well this people can’t, and they can’t shower either. And they need that water to drink it, and to stay alive. There’s people out there suffering, and just by reblogging you can help them. So please, I don’t care if this doesn’t fit your blog, this is actually worth it.

cuddleholic:

pinkxst:

extriquee:

scienceyoucanlove:

darksuntheenderdragon:

moonstruckmod:

bempie:

ask-drunken-lin-bei-fong:

charitywaterproject:

EVERY REBLOG GENERATES 1-5 CENTS DONATION TO CHARITY: WATER

More RE-BLOGS = More DONATIONS = More LIVES SAVED

100% of donations directly fund water projects for communities in need, and we prove each one using photos and GPS coordinates on Google Maps.

$20  = 1 CHILD CLEAN WATER FOR 20 YEARS

Richard :-)

REBLOG 5,000,000 TIMES

WHERE ARE THERE SO LITTLE NOTES YOU GUYS

REBLOG THIS SAVE SOME LIVES.

Oh okay.

I can’t not reblog.

I care too much.

reblogging this to remind myself to donate when I get my purse 

reblogging this because I really want them to live like we do.

A MUST TO REBLOG

PLEASE REBLOG. I don’t care if it’s truth or not. But it may be, and you have to understand that this is REALLY important. When you get your hands dirty you just go to the bathroom and clean them. Well this people can’t, and they can’t shower either. And they need that water to drink it, and to stay alive. There’s people out there suffering, and just by reblogging you can help them. So please, I don’t care if this doesn’t fit your blog, this is actually worth it.

mouss-e:

somepinkfluffy-dinosaur:

‎”THROUGH A RAPIST’S EYES” (PLS TAKE TIME TO READ THIS. it may save a life.) Reblog this!
  It seems that alot of attackers use some tactic to get away with violence. Not many people know how to take care of themselves when faced with such asituation. Everyone should read this especially each n every girl in this world. THOUGHT THIS WAS GOOD INFO TO PASS ALONG…FYI - Through a rapist’s eyes! A group of rapists and date rapists in prison were interviewed on what they look for in a potential victim and here are some interesting facts:1] The first thing men look for in a potential victim is hairstyle.They are most likely to go after a woman with a ponytail, bun! , braid, or other hairstyle that can easily be grabbed. They are also likely to go after a woman with long hair. Women with short hair are not common targets.2] The second thing men look for is clothing. They will look for women who’s clothing is easy to remove quickly. Many of them carry scissors around to cut clothing.3] They also look for women using their cell phone, searching through their purse or doing other activities while walking because they are off guard and can be easily overpowered.4] The number one place women are abducted from / attacked at is grocery store parking lots.5] Number two is office parking lots/garages.6] Number three is public restrooms.7] The thing about these men is that they are looking to grab a woman and quickly move her to a second location where they don’t have to worry about getting caught.8] If you put up any kind of a fight at all, they get discouraged because it only takes a minute or two for them to realize that going after you isn’t worth it because it will be time-consuming.9] These men said they would not pick on women who have umbrellas,or other similar objects that can be used from a distance, in their hands.10] Keys are not a deterrent because you have to get really close to the attacker to use them as a weapon. So, the idea is to convince these guys you’re not worth it.———————————————————————————————————————————-POINTS THAT WE SHOULD REMEMBER:1] If someone is following behind you on a street or in a garage or with you in an elevator or stairwell, look them in the face and ask them a question, like what time is it, or make general small talk:can’t believe it is so cold out here, we’re in for a bad winter. Now that you’ve seen their faces and could identify them in a line- up, you lose appeal as a target.
 2] If someone is coming toward you, hold out your hands in front of you and yell Stop or Stay back! Most of the rapists this man talked to said they’d leave a woman alone if she yelled or showed that she would not be afraid to fight back. Again, they are looking for an EASY target.3] If you carry pepper spray (this instructor was a huge advocate of it and carries it with him wherever he goes,) yelling I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY and holding it out will be a deterrent.4] If someone grabs you, you can’t beat them with strength but you can do it by outsmarting them. If you are grabbed around the waist from behind, pinch the attacker either under the arm between the elbow andarmpit or in the upper inner thigh - HARD. One woman in a class this guy taught told him she used the underarm pinch on a guy who was trying to date rape her and was so upset she broke through the skin and tore out muscle strands the guy needed stitches. Try pinching yourself in those places as hard as you can stand it; it really hurts.5] After the initial hit, always go for the groin. I know from a particularly unfortunate experience that if you slap a guy’s parts it is extremely painful. You might think that you’ll anger the guy and make him want to hurt you more, but the thing these rapists told ourinstructor is that they want a woman who will not cause him a lot of trouble. Start causing trouble, and he’s out of there.6] When the guy puts his hands up to you, grab his first two fingers and bend them back as far as possible with as much pressure pushing down on them as possible. The instructor did it to me without usingmuch pressure, and I ended up on my knees and both knuckles cracked audibly.7] Of course the things we always hear still apply. Always be aware of your surroundings, take someone with you if you can and if you see any odd behavior, don’t dismiss it, go with your instincts. You may feellittle silly at the time, but you’d feel much worse if the guy really was trouble.——————————————————————————————————————————-FINALLY, PLEASE REMEMBER THESE AS WELL ….I know you are smart enough to know these pointers but there will be some, where you will go “hmm I must remember that” After reading forward it to someone you care about, never hurts to be careful in this crazy world we live in.1. Tip from Tae Kwon Do: The elbow is the strongest point on your body. If you are close enough to use it, do it.2. Learned this from a tourist guide to New Orleans : if a robber asks for your wallet and/or purse, DO NOT HAND IT TO HIM. Toss it away from you…. chances are that he is more interested in your wallet and/orpurse than you and he will go for the wallet/purse. RUN LIKE MAD IN THE OTHER DIRECTION!3. If you are ever thrown into the trunk of a car: Kick out the back tail lights and stick your arm out the hole and start waving like crazy. The driver won’t see you but everybody else will. This has saved lives.4. Women have a tendency to get into their cars after shopping,eating, working, etc., and just sit (doing their checkbook, or making a list, etc. DON’T DO THIS! The predator will be watching you, and this is the perfect opportunity for him to get in on the passenger side,put a gun to your head, and tell you where to go. AS SOON AS YOU CLOSE the DOORS , LEAVE. 
5. A few notes about getting into your car in a parking lot, or parking garage:a. Be aware: look around your car as someone may behiding at the passenger side , peek into your car, inside the passenger side floor, and in the back seat. ( DO THIS TOO BEFORE RIDING A TAXI CAB) .b. If you are parked next to a big van, enter your car from the passenger door. Most serial killers attack their victims by pulling them into their vans while the women are attempting to get into their cars.c. Look at the car parked on the driver’s side of your vehicle, and the passenger side. If a male is sitting alone in the seat nearest your car, you may want to walk back into the mall, or work, and get a guard/policeman to walk you back out. IT IS ALWAYS BETTER TO BE SAFE THAN SORRY. (And better paranoid than dead.) 
6. ALWAYS take the elevator instead of the stairs. (Stairwells are horrible places to be alone and the perfect crime spot).7. If the predator has a gun and you are not under his control, ALWAYS RUN! The predator will only hit you (a running target) 4 in 100 times; And even then, it most likely WILL NOT be a vital organ. RUN!8. As women, we are always trying to be sympathetic: STOP IT! It may get you raped, or killed. Ted Bundy, the serial killer, was a good-looking, well educated man, who ALWAYS played on the sympathies of unsuspecting women. He walked with a cane, or a limp, and often asked “for help” into his vehicle or with his vehicle, which is when he abducted his next victim.  
Send this to any woman you know that may need to be reminded that the world we live in has a lot of crazies in it and it’s better safe than sorry.If u have a heart or compassion reblog this post.‘Helping hands are better than Praying Lips’ – give us your helping hand.
 REBLOG THIS AND LET EVERY GIRL KNOWATLEAST PEOPLES WILL KNOW WATS GOIN IN THIS WORLD.So please reblog this….Your one reblog can Help to spread this information.I hope you all will Reblog. Lets See how many of you really care for this. 

DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT NOT REBLOGGING THIS! IT COULD ACTUALLY SAVE A LIFE.

mouss-e:

somepinkfluffy-dinosaur:

‎”THROUGH A RAPIST’S EYES” (PLS TAKE TIME TO READ THIS. it may save a life.) Reblog this!

  
It seems that alot of attackers use some tactic to get away with violence. Not many people know how to take care of themselves when faced with such a
situation. Everyone should read this especially each n every girl in this world. THOUGHT THIS WAS GOOD INFO TO PASS ALONG…

FYI - Through a rapist’s eyes! A group of rapists and date rapists in prison were interviewed on what they look for in a potential victim and here are some interesting facts:



1] The first thing men look for in a potential victim is hairstyle.
They are most likely to go after a woman with a ponytail, bun! , braid, or other hairstyle that can easily be grabbed. They are also likely to go after a woman with long hair. Women with short hair are not common targets.

2] The second thing men look for is clothing. They will look for women who’s clothing is easy to remove quickly. Many of them carry scissors around to cut clothing.

3] They also look for women using their cell phone, searching through their purse or doing other activities while walking because they are off guard and can be easily overpowered.

4] The number one place women are abducted from / attacked at is grocery store parking lots.

5] Number two is office parking lots/garages.

6] Number three is public restrooms.

7] The thing about these men is that they are looking to grab a woman and quickly move her to a second location where they don’t have to worry about getting caught.

8] If you put up any kind of a fight at all, they get discouraged because it only takes a minute or two for them to realize that going after you isn’t worth it because it will be time-consuming.

9] These men said they would not pick on women who have umbrellas,or other similar objects that can be used from a distance, in their hands.

10] Keys are not a deterrent because you have to get really close to the attacker to use them as a weapon. So, the idea is to convince these guys you’re not worth it.

———————————————————————————————————————————-

POINTS THAT WE SHOULD REMEMBER:


1] If someone is following behind you on a street or in a garage or with you in an elevator or stairwell, look them in the face and ask them a question, like what time is it, or make general small talk:
can’t believe it is so cold out here, we’re in for a bad winter. Now that you’ve seen their faces and could identify them in a line- up, you lose appeal as a target.

 
2] If someone is coming toward you, hold out your hands in front of you and yell Stop or Stay back! Most of the rapists this man talked to said they’d leave a woman alone if she yelled or showed that she would 
not be afraid to fight back. Again, they are looking for an EASY target.

3] If you carry pepper spray (this instructor was a huge advocate of it and carries it with him wherever he goes,) yelling I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY and holding it out will be a deterrent.

4] If someone grabs you, you can’t beat them with strength but you can do it by outsmarting them. If you are grabbed around the waist from behind, pinch the attacker either under the arm between the elbow and
armpit or in the upper inner thigh - HARD. One woman in a class this guy taught told him she used the underarm pinch on a guy who was trying to date rape her and was so upset she broke through the skin and tore out muscle strands the guy needed stitches. Try pinching yourself in those places as hard as you can stand it; it really hurts.

5] After the initial hit, always go for the groin. I know from a particularly unfortunate experience that if you slap a guy’s parts it is extremely painful. You might think that you’ll anger the guy and make him want to hurt you more, but the thing these rapists told our
instructor is that they want a woman who will not cause him a lot of trouble. Start causing trouble, and he’s out of there.

6] When the guy puts his hands up to you, grab his first two fingers and bend them back as far as possible with as much pressure pushing down on them as possible. The instructor did it to me without using
much pressure, and I ended up on my knees and both knuckles cracked audibly.

7] Of course the things we always hear still apply. Always be aware of your surroundings, take someone with you if you can and if you see any odd behavior, don’t dismiss it, go with your instincts. You may feel
little silly at the time, but you’d feel much worse if the guy really was trouble.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

FINALLY, PLEASE REMEMBER THESE AS WELL ….

I know you are smart enough to know these pointers but there will be some, where you will go “hmm I must remember that” After reading forward it to someone you care about, never hurts to be careful in this crazy world we live in.


1. Tip from Tae Kwon Do: The elbow is the strongest point on your body. If you are close enough to use it, do it.

2. Learned this from a tourist guide to New Orleans : if a robber asks for your wallet and/or purse, DO NOT HAND IT TO HIM. Toss it away from you…. chances are that he is more interested in your wallet and/or
purse than you and he will go for the wallet/purse. RUN LIKE MAD IN THE OTHER DIRECTION!

3. If you are ever thrown into the trunk of a car: Kick out the back tail lights and stick your arm out the hole and start waving like crazy. The driver won’t see you but everybody else will. This has saved lives.

4. Women have a tendency to get into their cars after shopping,eating, working, etc., and just sit (doing their checkbook, or making a list, etc. DON’T DO THIS! The predator will be watching you, and this is the perfect opportunity for him to get in on the passenger side,put a gun to your head, and tell you where to go. AS SOON AS YOU CLOSE the DOORS , LEAVE.
 

5. A few notes about getting into your car in a parking lot, or parking garage:
a. Be aware: look around your car as someone may be
hiding at the passenger side , peek into your car, inside the passenger side floor, and in the back seat. ( DO THIS TOO BEFORE RIDING A TAXI CAB) .
b. If you are parked next to a big van, enter your car from the passenger door. Most serial killers attack their victims by pulling them into their vans while the women are attempting to get into their cars.
c. Look at the car parked on the driver’s side of your vehicle, and the passenger side. If a male is sitting alone in the seat nearest your car, you may want to walk back into the mall, or work, and get a guard/policeman to walk you back out. IT IS ALWAYS BETTER TO BE SAFE THAN SORRY. (And better paranoid than dead.)
 

6. ALWAYS take the elevator instead of the stairs. (Stairwells are horrible places to be alone and the perfect crime spot).

7. If the predator has a gun and you are not under his control, ALWAYS RUN! The predator will only hit you (a running target) 4 in 100 times; And even then, it most likely WILL NOT be a vital organ. RUN!

8. As women, we are always trying to be sympathetic: STOP IT! It may get you raped, or killed. Ted Bundy, the serial killer, was a good-looking, well educated man, who ALWAYS played on the sympathies of unsuspecting women. He walked with a cane, or a limp, and often asked “for help” into his vehicle or with his vehicle, which is when he abducted his next victim.
  

Send this to any woman you know that may need to be reminded that the world we live in has a lot of crazies in it and it’s better safe than sorry.


If u have a heart or compassion reblog this post.
‘Helping hands are better than Praying Lips’ – give us your helping hand.

 
REBLOG THIS AND LET EVERY GIRL KNOW
ATLEAST PEOPLES WILL KNOW WATS GOIN IN THIS WORLD.
So please reblog this….Your one reblog can Help to spread this information.
I hope you all will Reblog. Lets See how many of you really care for this.

DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT NOT REBLOGGING THIS! IT COULD ACTUALLY SAVE A LIFE.

(Source: itssofluffy-im-gonna-die)

cremademani:

amigo-no-sea-weon:

este-blog-no-tiene-nombre:

conhambre-nosepuedepensar:

dubstep-te-amo:

lectora-compulsiva:

malaclasecl:

FIN :(

Joder, cada vez que veo esto lo reblogueo. Esto es tan hermoso me hace llorar :’c

El lo mas precioso que eh visto en tumblr que me saco un par de lagrimas :”) ♡

LO VOY A REBLOGUEAR SIEMPRE QUE LO VEA.. ES HEERMOSOOO. C:

OHHHHH que hermoso:( 

lo que pasa cuando tienes un amigo negro….:c

comentario weón que cago todo… XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD ñlkjdsfapfioñskdlfjasdoif

(Source: animicida)

endlessyuji:

tithonic:

fixitjack:

rangekyo:

REBLOG THIS POST OR SUFFER MY CURSE

This fucker haunted me for years I ain’t risking shit
just fucking return the slab eustace you piece of shit

This fucking episode

WATS YER OFFER

endlessyuji:

tithonic:

fixitjack:

rangekyo:

REBLOG THIS POST OR SUFFER MY CURSE

This fucker haunted me for years I ain’t risking shit

just fucking return the slab eustace you piece of shit

This fucking episode

WATS YER OFFER

image

(Source: radgekyo)

magickowl:

myreticentvale:

Keep the flame going for those we have lost to suicide. 

why has this not got any notes 

magickowl:

myreticentvale:

Keep the flame going for those we have lost to suicide. 

why has this not got any notes 

zanetehaiden:

Brian was being nice to you, and this was weird, and weird was bad. Everyone was nice to you today. You woke up, bleary eyed and grumpy as always, but there were pancakes. Actual pancakes. Your parents haven’t made breakfast since summer, much less fucking pancakes. You asked your dad why there were fucking pancakes readily made this morning, and he just said, “Well, I just kinda felt like pancakes today, you know? I was up early anyway, and I thought it would just be a nice thing to do for you and your Mother.”
 This was not a good explanation. This was not a good explanation at all. God knows you’ve heard him complain enough about making coffee for her in the morning, much less a full course meal with ingredients we were supposed to be rationing and— is that apple juice? You looked at him again, and he just kind of smiled and sipped his coffee at the dinner table. The smile was the most off-putting thing, and something in it told you that you were less a person and more a thing to be pitied. Then your eyes flicked to the number above his head, steadily counting down.
 Thirty-three years, eighty-seven days, ten hours, eighteen minutes, and fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven…. That was how long until he kicked the can, or, in laymans terms, died. He would die at that exact moment in the far future, and everyone who saw him knew about it. Of course, nobody was a big enough prick to tell him. Nobody was a big enough prick to tell anybody, because it was the exact same for everyone else. For your mother it was twenty-eight something years, and for almost everyone in your school it was sixty or seventy, with one fucker up to eighty. The only one whom you didn’t know the date of death for was yourself, and that kind of made you pretty paranoid.
 Especially when this kind of stuff happened. When your mom woke up, she hugged you and kissed you on the forehead and called you sweetie like it was the first day of school, and when she drove you to school she let you choose the radio station. When you got there, someone you didn’t know opened the door for you. A boy. A cute boy. You looked at him awkwardly, but he just smiled and said something sort of like a greeting. You said something sort of like a greeting to him too. You walked past him and into the school and looked back, and he was looking at you. You looked around, and other people were looking at you, but they looked away when you looked at them. Something inside your chest felt like it was trying to break out, and the hallways suddenly seemed a million degrees hotter with dozens of pairs of eyes burning into you, so you decided to get to homeroom.
 Homeroom was hell, your teacher was a bitch, but she was smiling. She complimented your outfit for the day (a hoodie and some blue jeans) and asked how you were feeling. You said alright. She said good. You silently wondered why she would give a single solitary fuck about any of that, and sat down with a little voice in the back of your head screaming out an answer you hoped was incorrect. As a girl who’d told you to slit your wrists in seventh grade came over to talk to you, that little voice grew louder. You really wished people would stop fucking smiling at you.
 “What’s up Noam the Gnome, anything been happening lately?” she asked semi-enthusiastically, like someone who’s parents are making her talk to the kid with no friends. You wished she wouldn’t say your name like that, its enough of a joke as is, even if you hadn’t turned out to be barely five feet tall. You shrugged and put one headphone in. “Cool, cool,” she said, continuing, “a couple of girls and I were wondering if you wanted to hang out after school today, seeing as we share a couple classes but don’t really know you too terribly well.”
 “You didn’t care before. Why do you care now?” you said, looking past her head at her clock. Sixty more years. Damn.
 She said “no reason” a bit too quickly for your liking, but at least she left you alone after that. You didn’t have anything against her personally, you were just in a bad mood today, even more than usual, and you knew she wasn’t being genuine but you didn’t know why. People didn’t just randomly start being nice, that’s not how things worked.
 The bell rang, you went to your first class, and everyone continued to stare. You hadn’t done the homework for last night, but the teacher didn’t take it up anyway so at least that was good. When you raised your hand to ask if you could get a drink of water, your teacher smiled sweetly and said of course, but when you peeked through the door there wasn’t a face in sight not sporting a grim visage. The little voice was booming now. You re-entered the room, and everyone went back to smiling.
 Second, and third blocks were the same, but in fourth block there happened to be this guy named Brian. Brian was like the boy who had held the door open for you in that he was cute, the main difference being his constant sweetness and the fact that if given the chance you’d ride him like a fucking carousel. He was a boy with black hair and green eyes and a jawline set in stone and arms that looked quite nice in that well fitted shirt he was wearing. The best thing about him was the look on his face he got when he talked about things he was passionate about, like penguins. He’d once told you that when he was little he wanted to grow up to be a penguin and live in the Antarctic and give all the other penguins blankets and ear muffs, and you almost slammed him on the desk right then and there.
 That day, he sat close to you and talked to you. Not just idle chit chat either, like actual talking. It made your insides feel strange, but in a good way. He asked if you wanted to hang out after school, and you said sure. You asked your parents if it was alright, and they said sure. You almost forgot about being paranoid in that hour and a half, but then you glanced up at his and saw eighty years, and couldn’t help but think it would be eighty years spent without you.
 Whatever. You half convinced yourself you didn’t care as you walked home with him. He skipped along like a massive dork, and smiled genuinely, and you couldn’t help but smile too. His house wasn’t that far away, but he took a long and winding path through a steel jungle near the school, climbing on the various scrap heaps and balancing on the muzzle of an old tank. You told him to get down, but he just recited one of the various bullshitty speeches from your history books that some old fucker or another had said about never surrendering. He saluted, a silly look on his face, and you both laughed as he hopped down. You ended up laying together on the roof of a rusted auto, his hand kind of close to yours, and you joked about various things and such.
 You don’t really remember how, but he ended up on top of you, a weird sort of half smile on his face and what looked sort of like admiration in his eyes. It might’ve been admiration, but you only had a few seconds to look before his face became very, very close to yours.
 And thats how it went for about an hour before you actually bothered to close the difference between his house and you to none, but of course by then you were quite flustered. You met his parents, and they were nice. You played video games and beat him badly, but you’re fairly sure he let you win. You both went for another walk, and it ended up about like the first one, on the roof of an auto with lips going places and hands going others.
 When he said goodbye, it sounded final, and you tried not to break down crying. You failed, but at least it was when he wasn’t there. You sat on a bench and looked at the stars, and wondered what their numbers were. You didn’t bother for too long, you knew that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend the amount of time even if you could see it. But you couldn’t, and for that single moment the sky seemed like a mirror. It was only a moment though, for the next an out of control auto swerved off the road and flipped onto you, crushing every single bone in your body and killing you almost instantly. In your last moment, you didn’t think about anything poetic like the feel of his lips on yours or the frailty of life or anything like that, but the brief though of fuck, I was right, did cross your mind.
—-
So this thought occurred to me earlier and I decided to actually write it. Feedback is appreciated.

zanetehaiden:

Brian was being nice to you, and this was weird, and weird was bad. Everyone was nice to you today. You woke up, bleary eyed and grumpy as always, but there were pancakes. Actual pancakes. Your parents haven’t made breakfast since summer, much less fucking pancakes. You asked your dad why there were fucking pancakes readily made this morning, and he just said, “Well, I just kinda felt like pancakes today, you know? I was up early anyway, and I thought it would just be a nice thing to do for you and your Mother.”

This was not a good explanation. This was not a good explanation at all. God knows you’ve heard him complain enough about making coffee for her in the morning, much less a full course meal with ingredients we were supposed to be rationing and— is that apple juice? You looked at him again, and he just kind of smiled and sipped his coffee at the dinner table. The smile was the most off-putting thing, and something in it told you that you were less a person and more a thing to be pitied. Then your eyes flicked to the number above his head, steadily counting down.

Thirty-three years, eighty-seven days, ten hours, eighteen minutes, and fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven…. That was how long until he kicked the can, or, in laymans terms, died. He would die at that exact moment in the far future, and everyone who saw him knew about it. Of course, nobody was a big enough prick to tell him. Nobody was a big enough prick to tell anybody, because it was the exact same for everyone else. For your mother it was twenty-eight something years, and for almost everyone in your school it was sixty or seventy, with one fucker up to eighty. The only one whom you didn’t know the date of death for was yourself, and that kind of made you pretty paranoid.

Especially when this kind of stuff happened. When your mom woke up, she hugged you and kissed you on the forehead and called you sweetie like it was the first day of school, and when she drove you to school she let you choose the radio station. When you got there, someone you didn’t know opened the door for you. A boy. A cute boy. You looked at him awkwardly, but he just smiled and said something sort of like a greeting. You said something sort of like a greeting to him too. You walked past him and into the school and looked back, and he was looking at you. You looked around, and other people were looking at you, but they looked away when you looked at them. Something inside your chest felt like it was trying to break out, and the hallways suddenly seemed a million degrees hotter with dozens of pairs of eyes burning into you, so you decided to get to homeroom.

Homeroom was hell, your teacher was a bitch, but she was smiling. She complimented your outfit for the day (a hoodie and some blue jeans) and asked how you were feeling. You said alright. She said good. You silently wondered why she would give a single solitary fuck about any of that, and sat down with a little voice in the back of your head screaming out an answer you hoped was incorrect. As a girl who’d told you to slit your wrists in seventh grade came over to talk to you, that little voice grew louder. You really wished people would stop fucking smiling at you.

“What’s up Noam the Gnome, anything been happening lately?” she asked semi-enthusiastically, like someone who’s parents are making her talk to the kid with no friends. You wished she wouldn’t say your name like that, its enough of a joke as is, even if you hadn’t turned out to be barely five feet tall. You shrugged and put one headphone in. “Cool, cool,” she said, continuing, “a couple of girls and I were wondering if you wanted to hang out after school today, seeing as we share a couple classes but don’t really know you too terribly well.”

“You didn’t care before. Why do you care now?” you said, looking past her head at her clock. Sixty more years. Damn.

She said “no reason” a bit too quickly for your liking, but at least she left you alone after that. You didn’t have anything against her personally, you were just in a bad mood today, even more than usual, and you knew she wasn’t being genuine but you didn’t know why. People didn’t just randomly start being nice, that’s not how things worked.

The bell rang, you went to your first class, and everyone continued to stare. You hadn’t done the homework for last night, but the teacher didn’t take it up anyway so at least that was good. When you raised your hand to ask if you could get a drink of water, your teacher smiled sweetly and said of course, but when you peeked through the door there wasn’t a face in sight not sporting a grim visage. The little voice was booming now. You re-entered the room, and everyone went back to smiling.

Second, and third blocks were the same, but in fourth block there happened to be this guy named Brian. Brian was like the boy who had held the door open for you in that he was cute, the main difference being his constant sweetness and the fact that if given the chance you’d ride him like a fucking carousel. He was a boy with black hair and green eyes and a jawline set in stone and arms that looked quite nice in that well fitted shirt he was wearing. The best thing about him was the look on his face he got when he talked about things he was passionate about, like penguins. He’d once told you that when he was little he wanted to grow up to be a penguin and live in the Antarctic and give all the other penguins blankets and ear muffs, and you almost slammed him on the desk right then and there.

That day, he sat close to you and talked to you. Not just idle chit chat either, like actual talking. It made your insides feel strange, but in a good way. He asked if you wanted to hang out after school, and you said sure. You asked your parents if it was alright, and they said sure. You almost forgot about being paranoid in that hour and a half, but then you glanced up at his and saw eighty years, and couldn’t help but think it would be eighty years spent without you.

Whatever. You half convinced yourself you didn’t care as you walked home with him. He skipped along like a massive dork, and smiled genuinely, and you couldn’t help but smile too. His house wasn’t that far away, but he took a long and winding path through a steel jungle near the school, climbing on the various scrap heaps and balancing on the muzzle of an old tank. You told him to get down, but he just recited one of the various bullshitty speeches from your history books that some old fucker or another had said about never surrendering. He saluted, a silly look on his face, and you both laughed as he hopped down. You ended up laying together on the roof of a rusted auto, his hand kind of close to yours, and you joked about various things and such.

You don’t really remember how, but he ended up on top of you, a weird sort of half smile on his face and what looked sort of like admiration in his eyes. It might’ve been admiration, but you only had a few seconds to look before his face became very, very close to yours.

And thats how it went for about an hour before you actually bothered to close the difference between his house and you to none, but of course by then you were quite flustered. You met his parents, and they were nice. You played video games and beat him badly, but you’re fairly sure he let you win. You both went for another walk, and it ended up about like the first one, on the roof of an auto with lips going places and hands going others.

When he said goodbye, it sounded final, and you tried not to break down crying. You failed, but at least it was when he wasn’t there. You sat on a bench and looked at the stars, and wondered what their numbers were. You didn’t bother for too long, you knew that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend the amount of time even if you could see it. But you couldn’t, and for that single moment the sky seemed like a mirror. It was only a moment though, for the next an out of control auto swerved off the road and flipped onto you, crushing every single bone in your body and killing you almost instantly. In your last moment, you didn’t think about anything poetic like the feel of his lips on yours or the frailty of life or anything like that, but the brief though of fuck, I was right, did cross your mind.

—-

So this thought occurred to me earlier and I decided to actually write it. Feedback is appreciated.

(Source: zanetheaiden)