#this is abomination

[kyaatorin]

LllLlets gamblEeeeE

(the top one was supposed to be asuka)

[yourelost-itsokay]

Thanks I hate it

[heart-shaped-strawberry]

Genuine question why the fuck is there a tumblr shop? Who the hell buys their overpriced cheap and tacky looking stuff? It’s not even minimal effort anymore.  Pay 35 dollars for a shirt that will get you mocked and bullied and add the shipping price too you dumb shit. Pay 10 dollars for a notebook with few pages so you can write how much your taste sucks.

[batty-old-oz]

Table Selection | Charles & Oz

Oz looked down bleakly. The plate filled with mashed potato, boiled beans, salads, something supposed to be mac and cheese but seemed like mashed potato and half-liquefied ice cream, as known as his lunch. It was miserable enough to make his worst nightmare seems like a fairytale. Oz let out a flabby sigh. Actually, St. Mary's cafeteria served decent foods. There was no way they forget the importance of nutrient for their precious elites. It was actually his fault, the chaos on his dish.

So the process of serving lunch was designed and set for most of people in the institute, projects, professors and staffs. Oz, unfortunately, wasn't one of them. His daily schedule moved differently than the other's. He set up the class before the students and professor came to the classroom, graded pop quiz and assignments after the class is over, organized them in alphabetic order of students name and put the papers on Greg's desk. So eventually, his lunch hour was 20 minutes or so late than the other's. And whenever he reached the cafeteria with empty stomach, foods were already gone or cold, and most of tables were full.

Oz poked a macaroni with hardened cheese idly, lifted and glared it for a second. Then he tossed it to the mouth, crushed it viciously. It wasn't that bad, but it was dead cold. With a sigh, Oz swallowed former mac and cheese, now mushed lump of carbohydrate and fat, and took a slow look of cafeteria. The place was not that special compare to most of school cafeteria. Of course, there was no cheerleaders or football jocks, but there were group of scary, competitive girls and guys with muscles and heights. And there were nerds and geeks, outsiders and teachers. All establishing specific social groups, Oz was sitting alone. He didn't belong to any group. He didn't belong to this place, actually. And he didn't feel bad for that. He preferred normal, ordinary, average 'humans' than this special, superior superhuman people.

So chose to sit alone. Hogging the whole table all by himself, Oz took out his newly-fixed iPot with earphone. He stuffed the ears with the music, blocking all the noises of outside. Currently playing: Walking Disaster by Sum 41. He slowly chewed another piece of cold mac and cheese, soaking himself into the music and lyrics.

Walking disaster, the son of all bastards. You regret you made me, it's too late to save me.

[batty-old-oz]

One Step At a Time |

There was a boy, who was just like the others. He never was a straight A student. All he had was some Bs and sometime, Cs. He wasn't going to be famous throwing a football. He liked to watch sports, liked the heat and cheers of games, but not being a player himself. The school teams never gave him a chance anyway. An ordinary boy he was. But every difference in crowds are reckoned as extraordinary. In majority versus minority, the minority is a freak. And this boy who was nothing but a normal kid, became a freak in his extraordinary family. Successful parents, sister with brain, brother with muscle, the boy was nothing but a mutant in the family. It didn't take long for him to realize he was not good enough for his name.

30 years later, the boy became a guy. And still, sports were not his best subject. Well, if you can call 'kicking a chair in the leg and breaking own toe' as a sport. They really should spend more money on cafeteria, not on weirdly solid chairs. Oz thought to himself. His toe was still in pain, but he needed to go down to the office and finish the paper works. And it was quite a challenge to walk on crutches. Every step was with aching toe, sure enough. If the body parts could talk, the toe would be cursing something not to be spoken to Oz. And his saggy belly would nag him to do more work out.

Soon Oz snapped out from his possible nightmare of talking fats in his body, and started to walk down the dark, cold corridor to the office. The footsteps and sounds of crutches tapping the floor made a weird beat. Oz actually enjoyed the rhythm. This place was too quiet anyway.

[batty-old-oz]

Phone Call | Self

"Wow, I'd never thought this day would come. You actually called me." Oz muttered. There was an obvious hostility in his voice. "...Cut to the chase. What do you want." He asked shortly, and right after the person on the phone said something, Oz added sarcastically. "-said the man who locked up a guy in a mental hospital. I mean, you've already done so great job on ruining my life. But yet, you overstepped your own work. I should give you a golden star."

Usually Oz was not a type of person who enjoys hurting other's feelings. He hated that. But, the man on the phone, was the one he wanted to hurt. "No, that's a hijacking." He snarled. "No, that's a negligence."

"Hey, my answer is always gonna be the same. Just because I turned out to be one of you, doesn't mean I have to be like you. I'm not marching on your parade." Oz paused a second, then let out the word.  "Bullshit." And he pronounced the word stressing its every syllables. 

"I'm done talking with you. Just go to hell, dad."

Oz hung off the phone muttering curses under the breath. The man he hung off on was the great and powerful Gary Lawrence, aka, his father. Oz let out a sigh. He and Gary never had been close. Oz was a failure to the old man, compare to the other sibling of his. But few months ago, right after the heirloom appeared on him, the father suddenly contacted him, suddenly showing an actual interest on him.

 "Fuck." He cursed kicking an innocent but solid chair. It didn't take long for him to realize it was a bad idea. Now his toe was aching. It might be broken. Oh, great. Just what I needed. Oz thought to himself, falling down flabbily on the bed in his small room. He slowly turned over, then glared at the ceiling. St. Mary's Asylum, the place he was held up. Saint my ass.

Oswald knew what this place really do. His father, mother, older sister and brother, even his grandfather, he guessed, gone through this place. And he always thought he will not march on that parade of madness. He never wanted any connection with his family. He just wanted to live like a normal people. 

[thegirlwhoslost-blog]

The moment when you realize that there's still no official track listing from Taylor Swift's "RED".