a pastel princess @reachyourreality - Tumblr Blog

hi so i just heard this song and ??? i’m crying ???? my aro ass can finally relate to something ???

from will jay’s twitter:

we fell out of touch when i moved back from LA but will is such a genuinely sweet person & i’m so happy for him & i highly encourage yall to check him out

update

hey y’all. if you haven’t noticed, i’m not active at all on this acc anymore. i’ve moved!

head over to @lifeisjustgettingstarted to see me, still being a little shit on this site. thanks!

#mun speaks #important #update #you're welcome

mcclangst

To Mom,

‘Hey mom, it’s me.’ The video glitched.

‘I’m alive. I’m safe. I want to come home but I can’t. I’m in space— not because of the garrison, I promise. I’m… im saving people, mom. I’m doing something good.

‘Hunk’s here too, I’m sure you know. You probably already heard he was missing too. We’ve made a lot of new friends, some of them aren’t even human. Haha. But that’s a story for another time I guess…

‘H-how is everyone? I miss you guys a lot. Like… a lot a lot. Goodness if I keep crying like this Keith’s laugh at me…

‘Out here I’m a Defender of the universe. We’re called Voltron. It’s this huge robot that’s made out of smaller lion robots and it so cool, mom! Straight out of a comic book! There’s a princess and an evil emperor and-‘

A long pause in the audio but Lance was still speaking.

‘Uhm… I know I missed my birthday. I probably missed yours and Veronica’s too. Incase… Incase I don’t make it back in time mom, happy birthday. Happy Mother’s Day. Happy Valentines Day, Merry Christmas, Happy Easter. I love you mom. I really do. I miss you.

‘And I promise I’ll come back to you. It’s not a life time thing, if I had a choice I’d already be home, please know that.

‘Okay, my time’s up. Adios.’

End Video.

egberts

i just blocked teamsnapchat for being annoying and it let me

axngelic-princess

Hello yes 911??? my hand is not being held

gaydiationpoisoning-deactivated

If you are an adult on the receiving end of sexual attention from a minor, the only appropriate response is a firm, non-negotiable “no.” Not an “I would, but the darn law…” not, “maybe when you’re eighteen,” a “no.” It is your job as the adult to be responsible, and to not abuse the power differential between you. What the minor wants is irrelevant to your obligations. The only appropriate response is “no.”

shootcharlieshoot

mockwa

spider-hands-mannos-deactivated

ah yes, yellow concrete, make russian boy BEEG n STRONK

friendly-neighborhood-patriarch

the resigned look on his face is priceless.

jackass-scientific

How at the end he gestures with his hands like “what the fuck is this”

tardisblue-pandas-deactivated20

Smart and lazy is a horrible combination that results in disappointed teachers, exasperated friends and a whole lot of bad doodling

wytchlock-deactivated20200207

Oh shit this was literally me in school

the-impossible-mind-deactivated

Don’t forget those angry parents and half finished homework assignments crumpled in your binders

reganmariie

Im smart and tired I want to do good but i dont feel like trying anymore

wolveswolves

The wolves at Wolf Park Indiana were given paint as a form of enrichment and as a fundraiser to make “original wolf art”. Most of the wolves were happy to step in the paint for a piece of hot dog and make nice paw prints on a page, but this guy decided rolling in it was way more fun.

Picture by C. Love

dork-empress

you fool….he IS the art…..

bloodbending

peter parker in the 2002 movie is fuckin…. incredible. he gets bitten by a fuckin jacked red blue spider and he doesnt say “hey someone should take me to the hospital mayhaps?” he just goes home. then the bite swells to the size of a fuckin jawbreaker but he’s like “nah i just need a nap.” then he wakes up the next day and discovers that he DOESN’T NEED HIS GLASSES ANYMORE and he has a fuckin six pack. does he flip his entire Fuck? no. he says, “cool.” iconic.

laughingfish

2002 peter parker had no health insurance

musashi

thoughts on the friendzone

when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didn’t know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors. we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards. he wasn’t the only one. there was ben, and mitch, and noah—but kyle’s the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me “because you’re a girl and i’m a boy, shouldn’t we like each other?”

i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldn’t just be my friend like he always was

in the first grade there was rich and joseph and i got sent to detention with them almost every day with a smile on my face. we built block towers and sang to my teacher’s lion king soundtracks when she’d turn the lights off during lunch time. one day they got in a fist fight over me at recess, and i wondered why they felt they needed to share my friendship, like it was something they owned.

in the second grade zach and i played yu gi oh under our desks during free time and i got moved for talking to him constantly. everyone in the class would tease him and i for talking, asking when we were going to date already, asking him if he’d kissed me, and he stopped being my friend.

when i was 11 i met a chubby boy with the name of a colour who wore puffy vests and unwashed t-shirts, with greasy hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that hid hurt behind it. people didn’t like him because he was silly, but i liked him, because i was also silly. he became my friend the day he bought me 5 giant roses and asked me to be his girlfriend, and i politely declined but promised him i’d be his best friend because i’d always wanted a best guy friend that stuck around. we burnt our feet on the concrete during the summer and walked home with the sunset silhouetting us. he talked often about how he loved me, but never blamed me for being me, even though he refused to move on. that boy dyed his hair jet black and sat on the end of my bed playing songs to me on guitar, and all that pent up rage from before didn’t show until the first time he slapped me across the face and called me a dumb cunt.

in the 7th grade there was a boy named ryan who sat next to me on the bus and talked to me about manga. he’d ask me personal invasive questions but i didn’t mind because it was attention and i liked attention. i was dating another guitarist with curly brown hair, one who was much more kind-tempered than the other, and ryan mentioned how much of an asshole he was every day. i wondered, why, why does he think the love of my life is an asshole? but whenever i asked him, he just told me, “girls only date assholes. there’s no room for nice guys like me.”

i wondered, if he was so nice, why did he say such mean things?

he never stopped with me, taking me to movies, hanging out with me, you know. being friendly. i thought we were friends. but then, how many times had i thought that before?

how many times had i bonded with a boy, thought they got me, only for them to ask me if i wanted to make out?

how come when i told ryan i was coming out as a lesbian, he stopped being my friend, and said “damnit, the one girl i really want to pound into a mattress, and she’s only interested in chicks!”

there was a boy my junior year who stayed up all night with me until the sun rose, talking about life, past loves, hopes, dreams. beneath a million twinkling stars spanning forever, he brushed long brown hair out of his eyes and listened to me talk about the history that made me. then he asked me if i’d ever consider dating a guy, and complained about how he’d never get laid.

when i told him no a couple hundred times, he found new girls to listen to.

i would sit on the couch and play zelda with dakota, and he’d talk about all my favourite games with me. he was the closest thing to support i had, and the letters and poems he wrote me were always so kind and friendly. but he’d put his arms around me on the couch, and no matter how many times i told him i was uncomfortable, he’d still come over every day and do it.

“don’t you know how it feels to love someone and not have them love you back? don’t you know what it feels like to be friendzoned?”

when i meet guys who talk about the friendzone, who talk about the girls who don’t give “nice guys” like them i chance, i always want to just say

when i was 10 years old i met a girl whose brown hair fell across her shoulders and whos eyes sparkled when the sunlight hit them, whose voice was like velvet and whose scent was like mountain smoke, who made me dizzier than a fly climbing a sugar hill. and i’m 18 years old, and i still love her, and she knows, and she doesn’t love me.

but my first thoughts upon hearing her rejection were not “what a bitch,” were not “she just wants a douchebag and not a nice girl like me!” were not “im going to keep pushing her until she dates me,”

they were

“she is the best friend i have ever had, and i am the best she’s ever had, and i would hate to take that away from her.”

so before you play the victim, mr. Nice Guy, before you angrily throw your fedora on the ground and blame the girl you claim to adore so much:

put yourself in the shoes of a girl who thought she made a wonderful friend, only to find out that he just wanted her for sex. that he just wanted her for a relationship. a girl who was just an object to win, a prize. a girl who’s trust you’ve just shattered.

maybe she friendzoned you. but you girlfriendzoned her, first.