“Are you okay, Villiam?” said Otto. “I feel sick. But… yeah, I’m all right. Of all the bone-headed, stubborn, self-centered, arrogant–” “But you make up for it in other vays,” said Otto. “I meant my father.” “Oh.” “He’s just so certain he’s in the right all the time–” “Sorry, this is still your father ve’re talking about?” “Are you saying I’m like him?” “Oh, no. Qvite different. Absolutely qvite different. No similarities votsoever.” “You didn’t need to go that far!” He stopped. “Did I say ‘thank you’?” “No, you did not.” “Oh dear.” “No, you noticed that you didn’t, so zat is okay,” said Otto. “Every day, in every vay, ve get better and better. By the vay, vould you mind pulling this sword out of me? Vot kind of idiot just stick it in a vampire? All it does is mess up zer linen.”
Ha,Wade's Pansexual jokes are great. Especially so since I recently came out as Pan as well.I feel like o can agree to to them a lot more now,and they're funnier. But have a good time on your holiday again! =^.^= 💜
Welcome to the Pan Club, love ! x :) Pansexual jokes really never get old.
And, apparently, neither does your ability of making me feel loved.
1. you think she is beautiful even when she has acne all over her face and hair tied in a messy bun. you think she looks hot when she tries to be mad at you for being too hard on your self. you think she looks better than most of the human population and you think she looks best when she’s in your arms professing her love for you between sips of that bitter vodka you bought her.
2. you can’t stop thinking about her brown eyes, short black straight hair and freckled pointed nose. you can’t stop thinking of how her lips would feel against yours right this instance. you can’t stop thinking about how perfect her breasts feel in your hands. you can’t stop thinking about the late night conversation you had with her. you just can’t stop thinking about her even when you’re sipping coffee at starbucks, even when you’re watching a horror movie, even when you’re in class studying discrete math.
3. you know when she is angry, or when she is pissed at you for talking about other girls. you know what she likes to eat when she is on her period. you know when she is upset about that paper that she turned in late to her professor. you know she likes to be the centre of your attention always. you know she smiles when you hold her hand firmly in public. you know she bites her nails when she’s stressed out. you know her inside out.
4. you smile like a crazy man when you see her. you smile when someone says her name. you smile when you see a text message from her. you smile when you’re around her. you smile when people say you look good together. you smile when someone tells you she looks beautiful, like its a compliment for you and not her. you smile when she tells you she loves you. you smile when she tells you she loves to be your girl. you smile all day like an idiot and you smile until someone tells you to stop smiling because she’s not even around.
5. you talk about her to everyone, to your mom, to your bestfriend, to your room mate. you tell them everything about her. you tell them about how you read this tumblr post and it made you think of her. you tell them she’s perfect, not because of how she looks, or how smart she is, or how well she writes but because she’s yours. and only yours. you tell them how you don’t date a nine, but always a fucking ten, so yeah you tell everyone how and why she is a perfect ten.
I know, you think my generation doesn’t give two fucks about anyone else but themselves. but honestly why should we. everyone we loved left us for someone better, someone with longer legs or bigger bank balances. everyone we respected disappointed us by weaving us in a myriad of lies. everyone we idolised betrayed us. in a generation where everyone is letting everyone down, everyone is too stressed or too anxious, do you except us to care about other people. do you expect us to protect people from drowning when we dont even know how to swim. do you expect us to save lives when we want to end our own. do you expect us to love when our own hearts have been shattered into pieces. do you actually except us to give fucks about anyone but ourselves.