we were so innocent

I tried to keep you close to me, I really did.

When we first met you were so sweet, you had the most innocent eyes I instantly fell in love with. We texted all night, you had the best personality, possibly out of everyone I knew. You asked me out to a date, of course I said yes. When I saw you, you just stood there smiling, god you looked so handsome. Everything about you was perfect, that night you held me and I felt as if you were scared to let go. I told you everything and pretty soon months and months passed. Things started to change. It went from ‘I love you’ to 'I miss you’. We could’ve texted for hours without an end then it started being days without a text or call from you. I saw you today, with a new girl. I hope you treat her good, without an end.

@badass-barmaid

The 19 year old was small for his age, and hardly appeared to be a threat. However, anyone foolish enough to challenge him quickly found out how wrong that assessment was. Kefka had proven himself deadly time and time again, and so it was easy to see how he’d earned his spot as the youngest general in history to lead the Gestahlian army. Of course, this meant that his days were quite busy. He constantly found himself fixing someone else’s mess or being mobbed by requests from his soldiers. The blond even sometimes went out of his way to just stay out of the limelight. It was so hard to even think in the castle…

Oh this day, he decided to escape to a local Vectorian tavern. The men wouldn’t expect him to go there. No one would. He wasn’t exactly old enough to drink. Kefka knew this place was one of the hot spots for the soldiers, but they never went midday. Gestahl expected his men sober enough to function.

Ducking into the door, the young man first scanned the room to make sure he wouldn’t be spotted by anyone of any importance. It was basically empty, save the bartender, who he couldn’t help but notice was a rather buxom, rather hardened looking woman. He snorted to himself. No wonder the soldiers liked this place. Taking a seat in one of the booths so he wouldn’t be bothered, he pulled out the orders he still needed to fill and began working on them. Perhaps he could get a few hours of silence.

awkwardbird  asked:

Did I ever tell you about seventh grade. I was in English class and we were doing silent reading (and I was pretty innocent back then) so I was reading a book (that the teacher had read a chapter of in a previous class, so I got it from the library) and I raised my hand and asked my teacher what the word "scrotum" meant. I was completely serious, and she actually explained it in as vague of terms as possible. I just, idk how she stayed composed, I would've lost it.

scrotum is a not cool word

send me asks

Story time.

One time in 5th grade (you’re around 11 then here in Germany) I accidentally broke our homeroom door. I wasn’t the most popular girl around so the boys thought it would be fun to just keep me out of the room by holding the door shut. And 11 year old me thought, for some reason, that going up against 3-4 boys was a smarter idea then waiting for the teacher and explaining the situation.
So I press against the door and the boys press from the other side, and suddenly there is a pop sound and the door just kinda feel on the ground. Turns out we accidentally got it to pop out of it’s holdings.
So since we were Hauptschul (Germany’s school system’s messy, so don’t expect an proper explanation from me, but basically people think we’re just stupid trouble makers) children and we really didn’t wanna deal with *that* kind of trouble back then (hehe, we were so innocent back then, we thought that was bad, 4 years later and somebody stole our classbook bruned it and threw it into a river, also they broke a ceiling tile) we just kinda put it back into the holdings and pretended nothing happened when our teacher asked what was wrong with it (the door was now scraping against the floor, which was really annoying and kinda damaged the floor, also it was stuck like all the time) we just kinda all pretended we didn’t have a clue.
Side note, a friend of mine who joined us the next year and also joined the EDV Group (we basically did the schools dirty work they normally needed to hire professionals for but didn’t have the founding to do so…In exchange for cake. Yay cake.! Also we were allowed to stay inside during recess, which was pretty dope…. Yay cake!) Kinda got stuck with fixing this thing (that wasn’t really part of our field, but hey, cake.) And like this was frustrating because this damn thing just didn’t want to stay fixed. So after years of futile attempts at fixing this damn thing he asks “How did this stupid thing break in the first place.” And that is the moment where I realized, he had no idea. So me and a friend who hang out with us a lot (and technically wasn’t allowed to be inside with us but like, EDV privileges!!) just looked at eachother, and he starts laughing histerically while I explained, rather embarrassed, to our friend that it was me who broke the door he’s been trying to fix for about 2 years now.
Anyways, that’s how I broke a door in 5th grade which didn’t get repaired until my friend literary *made* the school order a new on in 10th grade.
And I remembered this incident because some asshats just broke the glassdoor of our apartment complex.

Jasper's Redemption

Okay I’m sorry but I am so done with the “keep corrupted Jasper as a pet” thing. Corruption is an allegory for the severity and totality of mental illness. Keeping Jasper as a pet would be equal to a person keeping a severely mentally ill human as a pet. It perpetuates abuse, is against the ill’s will, and dehumanizes the individual. We’ve already moved past the idea that corrupted gems are pets, after Monster Buddies and DEFINITELY after Monster Reunion. These corrupted gems are still thinking, functioning, and are highly intelligent, they just cannot communicate with others in the same way due to the mortal scramble of circumstance.

We want to be able to teach the lesson that it’s never too late to reverse internal suffering. We want to be able to heal corruption and teach that the illness does not define the individual. We want to heal all of the innocent gems that were corrupted so everyone has a chance at love. We want to teach that there are many roads to rehabilitation.

We want a redemption arc for our girl, not an okay-let’s-keep-this-suffering-individual-feeling-as-if-she-is-not-an-individual arc.

Heal our baby.

We were so young and innocent

Yep, that’s me. The first picture named Victor. Miss this squad. And the girl named Kristel was my first love. Now she’s my bestfriend. I still have contacts with all of these people. Excited to see all of them soon! Seventeen years of friendship and still counting! :)

You know what? There’s nothing more repellent than a pompous male academic who tries to cover up his misogyny with “intellectualism.”

Today my English professor used the word “whore” to describe the adolescent protagonist of a short story. Several of the girls’ jaws dropped in alarm. He flashed a proud smirk and chuckled about how he “forgot everything has to be politically correct nowadays.” He said real writers aren’t afraid to be “provocative.” 

That’s what makes me sick–redefining classic misogyny as somehow edgy and outrageous. It didn’t occur to him that some girls were uncomfortable because he used the word “whore” to describe a young character; he was convinced it was because we were so shocked by his wild, cool profanity. Because we were too innocent and provincial to appreciate his intelligent remark. 

To really drive home the point that good writers are always provocative, he posed the question: “So, how many of you think a pedophile kidnapping and repeatedly raping a 12-year-old girl would make a good topic for a comedy?” He smiled as he scanned our horrified expressions. 

“Well guess what? One of the most successful books of all time was a comedy about that very subject. It’s called Lolita.”

I almost lost it. First of all, Lolita never read as much of a comedy to me. But this isn’t the first time he’s defended sick misogynistic, rape-apologist ideology in the name of “good literature.” Last month he criticized my narrow-mindedness for bashing a male character (a pedophile who fantasized about the middle school girls on the softball team he coached and beat up his son for being gay), because I was ignoring what a “complex, three-dimensional character” he was. 

On countless other occasions he’s dismissed sexism and rape because he isn’t afraid to be “politically incorrect.” Like he’s some fucking trailblazer or something.

I’m so sick of it. Being educated doesn’t make your male chauvinism progressive. And using your job as an educator to convince girls they’re stupid for not agreeing with it is deplorable. You don’t deserve to teach.

And another depressing poem by moi

Kill me.
Kill me.
Actually kill me.
It saves me the trouble.
I know you don’t care.
So just, kill me.
Do it.
The gun’s right there.
We have knives in the kitchen.
Just, kill me.
Can’t do it?
Why not?
Are you afraid of the consequences?
Ha, they don’t exsist were we’re going.
So just, kill me.
Your innocence is frightening.
Just kill me.
You talk to me all the time.
One might say that I’m brain-dead.
That’s not true.
You talk to me all the time.
You scare me.
You toy with my emotions.
Just kill me.
Save me the trouble.
Just kill me.
Get it done and over with.
Just kill me.
It only takes a second.
It only takes a note.
Just kill me.
Its simple, really.
A stab here, straight through the heart.
Just kill me.
Do it now.
Do it.
DO IT!
Finally, I’m free.

4. “Damn, you’re so innocent” // Derek

Derek’s POV

We were all sitting in the living room of my big apartment, the smell of weed and alcohol taking over the room. I was sitting me beside my new girlfriend of 3 months Y/N who wasn’t paying attention to any of us and just sat there using her phone.

When ever smoke flew into her face, her nose crinkled and she shook her head not liking the smell of the weed. I giggled at her cuteness and decided to blow smoke into her face deliberately. I was high as fuck but I knew that she was going to get so pissed off with me later when they were all gone..

I blew a perfect ‘O’ into her face and she started at me for a long period before standing up and heading to the bedrooms looking pissed as ever. 

“Aw, where’s princess going?” Kevin laughed hysterically earning a middle finger from her. “Damn Derek you got yourself a wild one!” He almost rolled off the couch due to his laughing and highness. Lucy had to give him a slap across the face to stop.

I glared at him before taking a couple more of pre-rolled blunts and lighter, and made my way to my bed room.

“Baby!” I sang as I stumbled into one the rooms one not to find her there. “Oops! Its empty!” I walked into the room across from the room I was in. I found Y/N with her face in her hands and soft sobs.

“Babygirl, whats wrong?” Its as if her being upset made me sober. I walked over to the bed and pulled her into my chest and she quietly sobbed and mumbled to herself.

“Why can’t I be like you guys Derek? Why can’t I fit in and be able to smoke pot and look the baddest bitch in LA? I can’t even take a swig of whatever you guys a drinking without trying not to throw up. I probably look like a fool.” I rolled my eyes without making her upset because she was being over dramatic.

“Number 1, you are the baddest bitch LA. Number 2, I do not give a damn if you don’t like weed or alcohol, you can’t like everything on this earth. Number 3, you can never know you like something until you try it. My mom always tells me that so you’re gonna try weed but not in front of them so they can’t make fun of you.” She wiped her tears and watched as I put a blunt into my mouth and it. I gestured for her to take one and try one. 

She hesitated for a second before manning up and taking one. I smiled proudly as she held the lighter joint. She took one puff and blew a perfect circle but then started coughing and wheezing.

“Damn, you’re so innocent!” I laughed at her and she manged to crack a smile and punched me. She kept trying until she got the hang of it. She smiled once she blew an ‘O’.  

“I got it!” She beamed. “Yes! See I told you’d get the hang of it.” She punched me and giggled “I love you Derek.”

A/N: This is so bad, I apologise