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insanely inactive but i still try i love nadine lustre more than i can bear; 5teen

[justnaddie]

James and Nadine’s chemistry is off the charts.

[dmncroques]

[otwol-af]

Lmao jokes on you guys. Y'all end up getting married

[besprenkulits-blog]

when ur friends know your weaknesses 

[otwolgifs-blog]

#OTWOLCommitment Bloopers

[justnaddie]

This was before Nadine’s flight to Korea for her birthday vacation.

They are absolute babies.

[besprenkulits-blog]

                             [  The Four ‘R’s of Moving On ]

A four part JaDine fan fic based on Ramon Bautista’s words in Bakit Hindi Ka Crush ng Crush Mo. Coming soon. :~)

[aestheticjadine]

bonfire love song x james’ ig || please give credit if you’re going to use these

[besprenkulits-blog]

Iridescent 

based off the infamous colormates tumblr au + the kathnielweek post @kathniel-elrick-migi-jabi had (x) few months ago 

i am not responsible for any broken hearts xo 

tw: suicide, tw: depression, tw: death ; ; 

In the universe we live in, everything is in black and white. An endless grayscale. No, it's not always like this: if you want to escape the monotonous of it all, though, you'd need to find your soul mate. Or at least, that's what they all say.

Once you meet that one person, you'll start to see the colors. Back then, I only ever heard brief descriptions from my friends who're in love, and it really did sound beautiful. The vividness of it all. The thing is, you can't really force yourself on to someone, you know? I believed that if it's your soulmate that we're talking about, you just know. From the very first moment, you should know that it's meant to be them.

I was nineteen; going on twenty; and my mom wouldn't stop pestering me. She wanted me to try harder in looking. I wasn't too desperate or in a rush to find the one, but I had my ways. I'd "accidentally" brushed hands with girls one too many times in crowded places; I'd worn the brightest t-shirts in my closet. My brother JC, who already met his soulmate, said that my tactic was garish and flashy, but it was the least I could do. That's how coloring worked, anyway. It started with a few flashes, then eventually, the colorings start. They seep in and begin to fill the world of darks and lights. More than just two shades.

There where days I was afraid that my soulmate was in some other timezone. That I'm looking in all the wrong places. That maybe- just maybe- I already met her, but I was in a hurry or she wasn't looking or some other circumstance made us just miss each other by inches. By seconds. There were days when I wanted to settle in to the contentment of a colorless world...

But I didn't. And that's when I found you.

Mom had sent me to the grocery store to buy ingredients for her leche flan, and I- the ever obliging child- went. I remember that I wasn't even wearing a colorful shirt then; JC had forced me in to a plain white shirt, telling me to pity the colored people who had to face the blinding clothing and desperate glances of the colorless way too many times. I had chosen to walk, and you, you told me you were walking that day because the traffic was horrible and you were going to be late for an audition. Coinciding coincidences.

We came from different directions, and your elbow caught my rib, and I was going to curse you for it, but then, it started. The colorings. My first color: red. It was on peoples' shirts and in the apples on sale and hints of it were on jeepneys and tricycles. Red. I'm not sure how I even knew it was red, considering I'd never seen colors, but it was there, and I knew it. Red. Red. Red.

I turned around and saw you for the very first time. You were looking at me, shock on your face; red on your lips; crimson in your cheeks; and I remember thinking, 'God, she's beautiful.' You were. You are. We stood amidst all those crowded people, and a few days later you'd tell me the first color that appeared to you was red, too. I'm not sure if the first colorings mean anything. All I can recall is how you grabbed my hands, turning over my palms in your's until the inclemency of your face faded to be replaced with melodic laughter. "Pink," you had cried out incredulously, your gaze fixated on my fingers. "Pink." I said in confirmation, the goofy smile breaking out on my face.  

The next few weeks passed in a blur of meet-ups, in between your auditions and my busy days helping out at the family restaurant. I found out so many things about you. Your favorite band was All Time Low. You were an aspiring actress. You had the same outlook on soulmates as I did, how it's a one time thing. And you loved leche flan.

You were even more beautiful in the inside.

The colorings gradually eased in, striking and lively and picturesque. Hues beyond anything JC ever tried to describe me. We'd admire them together. The sunsets, the paintings; the graffiti, the flowers. Nothing was as radiant as you, though, and I realized that when I found myself watching you instead of a fireworks display. I had fallen in love with you, and I was glad to find out that you had fallen for me, too.

A month after we met, we began going steady. Everybody was so happy for us. God knows mom was. She made leche flan for you every time she found out you were coming over. We were inseparable. We were compatible. We were so, so beautiful and very much in love.

Things weren't easy. You explained to me about the depression. About the sudden bouts of anxiety. And I'd see them, I'd watch you crumble and collapse and grow convinced that life was no longer worth living. I was always there to comfort you, wasn't I? You once said I was keeping you alive. That I was one of the very few anchors keeping you on the ground.

I grew convinced that we would be okay, but I had settled in to that satisfaction a little too early. 

It was December 26th. Our six-month monthsary. Mom had sent me off to the grocery store again, sending me off to buy a few ingredients so she could whip you up a lanera of leche flan before I visited. I was on my way home when it started.

It was like someone had tuned down the saturation in my world. The first color to fade was blue. The sky turned white, and I stumbled backwards, confused. What the hell was happening?

It made little sense to me, but I figured that it had something to do with you. I had never run as fast I had then, Kath. The yellows began to fade when I was halfway there. Green was gone by the time I was racing up the stairs to your apartment.

It's awfully cruel, I believe, that the first coloring you see is the last to disappear... or maybe, I'm only so bitter because that's the last color I ever saw. A pool of blood coming from the wrists you'd slit open as you lay on the bathroom floor, lips muttering a string of 'sorry's until all the breath was gone from your chest. 

Your suicide note specifically stated that it wasn’t my fault. That I shouldn’t blame myself. That it was just your ideals of a frustrated actress and all the debt and your lame ass family and the sadness just wouldn’t go away and all the odds were against you, and some days I wish you weren’t so god damn selfish because if you had held on a little bit longer, I swore I would’ve helped you make it all better. 

In the universe we live in, everything is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. What they don't tell you is that when you lose them, all the colors you'd fallen in love with will disappear as well, leaving you with a feeling of being robbed.

Kath, I still believe we're only meant to have one soul mate in our entire life. That's why I'm doing this. I don't know why I feel like I should apologize to you, but I still will. I'm sorry. And I love you. God, I still do. I love you. It's been a year and nothing's been the same since you've gone. I miss you so much it hurts.

I'm sorry, baby. I'll see you soon.

Yours always,

Daniel

[justnaddie]

How could Clark resist that adorable face? Haha!

[dmncroques]

[besprenkulits-blog]

[besprenkulits-blog]

i’m still alive 

[besprenkulits-blog]

friendly reminder that

it’s okay to want to look good for yourself so you put on make-up or straighten ur hair and the likes, if it’s for your own benefit and happiness and self-esteem then go ahead baby girl 

it’s also okay to want to look good for other people, nothing’s stopping u from wearing that red shirt cause you know your friends like you in it, etc.; it’s very very okay 

what’s NOT okay is making people feel bad about wanting to be pretty, making people feel like they are not pretty

or making yourself feel bad because you think you’re not pretty enough 

or being uncomfortable but still changing yourself to fit in to the picture of beauty society has painted

#DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO BUT DON’T BASE IT ON SOCIETY’S SCREWED UP DEFINITION OF BEAUTIFUL [HI MAMA CES] 

[besprenkulits-blog]

Hi! I love your works

HI OMG THANK YOU <3

[besprenkulits-blog]

float in your sorrow ➸

MAY 29 ;; kn week, day six; prompt: laugh. ✍ word count • 2,577

❝she let out a laugh, then she put her hand over her mouth, like she was angry at HERSELF for forgetting her sadness.❞

This is the story of a girl who has panic attacks every day, and a boy who doesn’t go a day without noticing it. This is the story of a girl who writes melancholy like she’s lived it before, and a boy who marvels in the words she weaves so perfectly and eloquently. 

This is a story of boy meets girl, and I do not quite know if I should tell you that this is a love story. It is up to you to decide what it is, what it is not; what they are, what they are not. 

This is the story of Kathryn Bernardo, and Daniel Padilla. 

Daniel loves high school. The people, the lessons, the harmless drama. He tried to cut out the negativity, but lately, in their fourth year, he couldn’t help but face it head on. He pushes on, still trying to be optimistic, but something tugs at him; rather, someone. And that is Kathryn Bernardo. 

She has anxiety, Daniel figures, and that is quite a predicament while trying to live through the hardest year/s of your life. He would see her get panic attacks; see her struggle to breathe in the middle of a crowded hallway or clutch her desk and begin to hyperventilate. 

Other people pretend not to notice. They walk around her when she was struck in the hallways, they roll their eyes when she gets one in class. Daniel tries to follow their lead, but he finds himself drawn to watch a broken girl try to fix herself, every damn time. 

Kathryn hates school. The people, the lessons, the toxic drama. Since her first year, she’s kept her head down and tried to avoid everybody else. Four more years... three more years... two more years... one more year, and I’m out of here. She pushes on, driven by the fact that time is on her side, but something makes her pause; rather, someone. That boy named Daniel Padilla. 

Anxiety is a curse for a student. The discomfort, the trembling feeling, the overwhelming fear over the smallest of things. Her attacks have escalated over the year, lasting from ten minutes to thirty, while walking to class and while in class. 

People turn their heads away, in disgust and disbelief that she cannot keep herself together. Kathryn wants to scream at them, wants to ask them how they do it so well. She does not know if she is grateful or angry that they chose to ignore her-- but then, there’s him, who looks at her with not pity but curiosity. With not distaste but concern. With not repulsion but sadness. 

“What’s that?” Daniel can’t believe the two words he’d spoken. It’s just that Kathryn has always written in this brown notebook, since the day he’s noticed her, and the way she scribbles so furiously in to it intrigues him. Today was no different than the others, but today he had spoken to her. 

She looks at him, a pleasantly surprised expression on her features. She looks down at her notebook, looking as though she is torn on what to do, before silently ripping out the page and handing it to him. 

‘Silly little girl/Don’t fool yourself/They’ve seen your scars/Just don’t want to help/Little do they know/How much could change/With three little words/”Are you okay”?’

Daniel glances up at her again, to find that she has averted her eyes in shame. He waits until she looks at him, and he asks with all the sincerity he can muster, “Are you okay, Kathryn?” 

For a minute, Kathryn short circuits. This wasn’t in the text books. This wasn’t in the lessons. She can recite the Pythagorean theorem by heart, and speak to you in fluent Spanish, but she cannot tell you if she is ‘okay’. 

He repeats the four words, as though he is unsure if she heard. “I heard you,” she mumbles, frowning slightly. “Then?” he prompts, his worry so full-hearted that it makes Kathryn want to cry. “I don’t know,” she says quietly, seriously, honestly. 

He nods, understanding, handing back her crappy poem. “Can I help?” he offers, and Kathryn is so taken aback that she has to stare in to his eyes to make sure he’s not bullshitting her. He’s not. He’s serious. “Maybe.” Kathryn replies, as to not disappoint him. He lights up, like a Christmas tree. 

“Give me one week, and I’ll make you okay.” he challenges, and Kathryn shrugs, unsmiling. Why not? “Sure.” she answers, not quite sure what she’s getting in to.

The first day, Daniel is sure he’ll make her smile. “Hey, Kathryn,” he says, sliding in to the seat next to her with a wide smile. She nods to acknowledge him. “What’s a crocodile’s favorite drink?” he asks, beaming. Kathryn gives him a pointed look. “Gatorade!” he answers his own question before bursting in to giggles. Kathryn rolls her eyes and turns away. 

“Give up,” she hums, scribbling something in to her notebook. Daniel pouts, shrugging a bit. “I know I’ll make you happy. I just know.” he retorts before facing the front of the classroom. In the corner of his eye, he sees the corners of her lips tug upwards, and he finds himself smiling a bit brighter that day. 

Kathryn clutches her books tight against her chest as she weaves through the hallway of students. She has a feeling another anxiety attack’s coming up, but before she can collapse on to the floor, Daniel has appeared at her side. 

“Let me take that for you!” he says cheerfully, grabbing her books and stacking them on top of his. “Those are mine,” Kathryn stammers, taken aback as she follows him through the crowd. “I know, and your locker isn’t too far away. Come on.” he commands until they reach her locker. She takes her books with a mumbled ‘thanks’, unlocks her locker, stuffs them all in, and locks her locker again to find Daniel still there, looking expectant. “What?” she asks, annoyance tinging her tone. 

Daniel deflates, but he bounces back again, smiling. “Give up.” Kathryn insists once again, but the boy merely shrugs. “It’s only my second day.” he answers, chuckling, and Kathryn shakes her head in disbelief. 

Daniel plops down a brown paper bag in front of Kathryn. It’s lunch period, and she sits alone in a table separated from other students. She looks up at him with a look of pure exasperation. 

“Look in to it,” Daniel urges, sitting across her. He puts his shoulders on the round lunch table and rests his chin in his hands as Kathryn peeks in to the paper bag. “It’s... cookies.” she says, her voice finally something other than irritated or discouraging. In fact, it even sounds a bit excited. 

“Chocolate chip. Take one.” he says enthusiastically. Kathryn sighs, and, seemingly, just to humor him, takes one. She takes a tentative bite, and her eyes widen a fraction. All the tenseness in her shoulders disappear, and even her posture seems to relax a bit as she finishes off the cookie. Daniel feels a surge of pride come over him as he says, “You like them? I made them this morning.” 

Kathryn seems to catch herself again, her guard coming right back up. “They’re okay,” she mutters, staring longingly at the bag. “You can have them,” Daniel offers, and her head snaps up towards him. “I made them especially for you.” he adds, and Kathryn nods, wordless, pulling the batch of twenty six cookies towards her. He doesn’t hear a ‘thank you’, but the soft expression on her face speaks volume. 

That day, she doesn’t tell him to give up. 

On the fourth day, Kathryn finds a note and a MP3 in her locker. The note proclaims: Be careful of (5) who can see your (2) combination (5) because I opened it (2) with ease (6). Not for keeps, but I made you a playlist. Will come back for it later. xo, The Great Locker Houdini a.k.a Daniel 

Kathryn plugs her headset in to the device and listens to the playlist Daniel has made. He weaved together everything from Safetysuit to John Legend to Parachute to All Time Low to The Beatles to Fall Out Boy to Sleeping With Sirens (and much, much more) so perfectly that Kathryn repeats the playlist thrice throughout. 

At the end of the day, like promised, Daniel is leaning against her locker, a grin on his lips. “Excellent music taste.” Kathryn says, holding out the MP3 for him. He shakes his head. “Tell me what your favorite song on it was.” He prompts. Kathryn purses her lips, realizing that this boy is stubborn and will not leave. “The acoustic version of If I’m James Dean, Then You’re Audrey Hepburn.” she answers. 

Daniel nods, beaming. “Sleeping With Sirens. Nice.” He comments, taking the MP3. “You know, I could’ve run away with that MP3. It’s not logical to lend a gadget to a stranger,” Kathryn chides as she begins to put her books back in to it’s places. “You’re no stranger.” Daniel replies. “You barely know me.” Kathryn throws back, shutting her locker with a snap and fixing Daniel with a stony look.

“I’d like to,” he answers in a low voice, his tone so sincere that Kathryn is caught off guard. “No, you wouldn’t.” she answers forcefully, turning away. Daniel’s fingers find a place under Kathryn’s chin only to gently tilt her head upwards so that she’s looking in to his eyes. 

“Kathryn,” he says, silently, seriously. “Trust me. I do.” 

“Let me walk you home.” Daniel persists, catching up to Kathryn as she walks down the steps of their school. “It’s not like I have a choice.” Kathryn says flatly, not missing a step. “I am mortally wounded. Truly, I am.” Daniel cries, clutching his chest. He hears a ‘pfffft’, and his face lights up as he turns to look at the girl next to him. 

“You laughed!” he half-yells. “What? No.” Kathryn retorts quickly, the ghost of a grin still on her mouth. “You did. You laughed.” Daniel says happily, doing a little dance. “Success is as sweet as the cookies I make~” he sings to some random tune. 

“Stop,” Kathryn says, but this time the smile breaks out on to her face. Daniel does indeed stop, feeling his jaw go slack. “What?” Kathryn giggles, only to put her hand over her mouth. She looks slightly scared, horrified, at the thought that she let down the cold front she’d put up. “You’re beautiful,” Daniel manages. “You should smile more often. Seriously.” 

Kathryn is silent but then she shrugs, walking backward and clutching the straps of her backpack. The smallest smirk graces her features, and Daniel is once again floored on how pretty she looks. “Give me reasons to.” she taunts before entering a nearby house. 

“I will!” Daniel calls after her, but she’s gone. 

11 AM was too early to be awake on a Saturday (on Bernardo standards), but Kathryn finds herself up anyway because of Daniel. “It’s my sixth day, let me take advantage of it,” he pleaded, and Kathryn had no choice but to comply. 

That day, he dragged her around town. To a local art museum (they got kicked out for posing with the paintings), to sneak in to an English Lit class at the public university (miraculously, they weren’t caught there; they even enjoyed a Chemistry class after), to Rosie’s Diner for lunch (Kathryn burst in to peals of laughter when Daniel unflatteringly snorted his strawberry smoothie up his nose) and to the endless loop of Disney movies showing downtown (everything from Lion King to Big Hero 6!). 

Kathryn can’t help it; she laughs more than once throughout the day, and she smiles much more than she ever wants. It was the happiest she’d been in years. 

Daniel gets her home by 6PM. “Tomorrow’s my last day, and it’ll be better.” he promises confidently, and Kathryn raises an eyebrow. “Not possible.” she replies, clutching the stuffed koala Daniel had won for her in a crane game closer to her. “It is.” he chuckles before looking down at her.

“Pick you up at 7 PM.” he says, and before she can protest, Daniel places a small kiss on her forehead and runs out in to the night.

Kathryn was going to go to sleep with the feeling of Daniel’s lips burning on to her forehead, not paying heed to how brief and quick his kiss was, when she realized something: she hadn’t had an attack in quite a while. 

She racked her brain to pinpoint the source, and it all led back to the boy whose sweet words got her by day by day.  

Daniel brings Kathryn up to his cliff for a sort-of dinner slash picnic for his seventh day. He had slaved in the kitchen for the whole day to create the perfect meal: potato soup, freshly baked bread (which he toasted), rosemary chicken, and a perfect batch of chocolate chip cookies. 

Kathryn was all praises as they went through the food he’d prepared, and Daniel only beamed. “You know, my life may fall apart, but there’s one thing I can be sure of: I can cook.” Daniel smiles, sipping his Diet Coke. “That’s how I feel about writing.” Kathryn sighs, swirling her Mountain Dew around in it’s can. 

“I’ve seen your words,” Daniel offers and Kathryn gives him a look. “I mean, like the essays you write for class.” he says quickly. “You’re really good.” 

Kathryn nods, downing the rest of her soda. “So, that’s it?” she asks. “No.” Daniel answers plainly. It’s evident on Kathryn’s face that she’s waiting for him to tell her the reason why they’re there, but he merely smiles. 

Then, it starts. One. Then two. Then a million, all at once. 

“A meteor shower.” Kathryn gapes, watching the spectacle unfold. “This one happens only once in a million years.” Daniel says softly, his attention on Kathryn instead. 

“Daniel... it’s beautiful.” Kathryn murmurs. Not once does her eyes avert from the phenomena streaking across the night sky. Daniel wants to be cheesy, wants to tell her that her beauty was a tough contender for the shower to beat. But he keeps quiet and instead finds his gaze shifting towards her hand supporting her weight, unobscured by any of the dishes scattered on their picnic blanket. 

In a spur of courage, Daniel reaches out for her hand, clutching it in his. He watches her reaction; nothing shifts for a moment-- she is so absorbed in the meteor shower. He was going to pull away in disappointment when she laces her fingers with his. 

She tears her gaze away from the meteors, and shoots Daniel a smile brighter than any of the stars he’d seen. “I’m okay,” she whispers. Daniel begins to grin, and he gives her hand a squeeze. “We’re okay.” he assures. 

She laughs lightly before looking back at the dazzling display; but even then, all Daniel can see is her, her, her. 

[besprenkulits-blog]

THE PHILIPPINE MEDIA SCENE LACKS BODY POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT 

over thousands of filipinos watch television on a daily basis 

everybody, at least once, has felt bad about him/herself 

damn, there are even people who feel bad about him/herself on an everyday basis

from all the mediums of communication media is perhaps the most important, the strongest, AND the widest-reaching

i need you to stop and think 

when did our media, whether it be ABS/GMA/TV5/radios/newspapers/whatever other philippine media there is, advocate body positiveness? 

there has been only a HANDFUL of popular and known times when media reminded its watchers that ‘its okay to be u’ or ‘i don’t need makeup to be pretty’ or the likes 

we live in a world where everybody from children to teenagers to adults believe they need to edit their imperfections out, or that they need to undergo surgeries, or that they need to slather on make-up just to qualify for everybody else’s standards on beauty 

this is no longer a want; we NEED more positive body reinforcement in our country’s media scene

why? 

because of the overwhelming insecurity people nowadays feel about their appearances 

because the state of society has grown and is only continuing to grow more judgmental as the years pass

because yes, i believe that what truly matters is what’s inside, but the public begs to differ; many believe appearances are the key to popularity/success

and sadly, it is sorta true

because as mentioned, media is the strongest of all communication —

— and how much would it hurt for the media to put out a few PSAs, a few commercials, or maybe a couple of teleseryes that can remind people they’re beautiful inside out? 

[kntastrophe-blog]

I WILL JUST LEAVE THIS HERE. (partly because I just finished watching a replay of adviceganda and it fully relates here)

FROM THE BULLIED:

“…yung tingin nila sakin, panget. Ganun. Wala silang… minsan nawawala na yung self esteem ko, nawawalan na ako ng confidence.”

“Inaasar nila akong panget… kasi mapanghusga silang masyado.”

“Minsan titingin ako sa salamin, sasabihin ko- “Ba’t ano bang mali sakin? Ano bang meron sa itsura ko?”“

AND THESE STATEMENTS ARE ALL TRUE (!)

Lucky are those people who didn’t experience VERBAL BULLYING because their looks satisfy the society. BEAUTY IS POWER- ADMIT IT.

WE DON’T WANT TO BE CALLED "MAGANDA”. WE DON’T WANT TO BE “MAGANDA” JUST TO SATISFY THE SOCIETY. ALL WE WANT IS EQUAL TREATMENT AND RESPECT.

We want to be beautiful only for OURSELVES and NOT to please or be included and accepted by this fucked up society- ONLY FOR OURSELVES.

Because you know what, when the bullied ones try to tell others what’s happening to them, asking for advice and AT LEAST some action, they will just ignore it and consider it as “MABABAW” when in fact, VERBAL BULLYING is no joke.

ALSO, I AM THANKFUL FOR VICE GANDA FOR THE ENCOURAGING WORDS. Actually, his words and advice are to live by.

©

[besprenkulits-blog]

THE PHILIPPINE MEDIA SCENE LACKS BODY POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT 

over thousands of filipinos watch television on a daily basis 

everybody, at least once, has felt bad about him/herself 

damn, there are even people who feel bad about him/herself on an everyday basis

from all the mediums of communication media is perhaps the most important, the strongest, AND the widest-reaching

i need you to stop and think 

when did our media, whether it be ABS/GMA/TV5/radios/newspapers/whatever other philippine media there is, advocate body positiveness? 

there has been only a HANDFUL of popular and known times when media reminded its watchers that ‘its okay to be u’ or ‘i don’t need makeup to be pretty’ or the likes 

we live in a world where everybody from children to teenagers to adults believe they need to edit their imperfections out, or that they need to undergo surgeries, or that they need to slather on make-up just to qualify for everybody else’s standards on beauty 

this is no longer a want; we NEED more positive body reinforcement in our country’s media scene

why? 

because of the overwhelming insecurity people nowadays feel about their appearances 

because the state of society has grown and is only continuing to grow more judgmental as the years pass

because yes, i believe that what truly matters is what’s inside, but the public begs to differ; many believe appearances are the key to popularity/success

and sadly, it is sorta true

because as mentioned, media is the strongest of all communication —

— and how much would it hurt for the media to put out a few PSAs, a few commercials, or maybe a couple of teleseryes that can remind people they’re beautiful inside out?