The Novel
Posts tagged GPOY
Reblogged from zaynsweetdick
I was watching Bob’s Burgers today and Tina made FANFICTIONS of a bunch of shows. And I was like GPOY of all the horny directioners and other fandoms with these fanfictions!
She also made friendfictions….lmao
GPOY
Darren is my role model.
Reblogged from bourgeoisnerd
- Me: Hey, so you free wednesday?
- Darren: Yes. Im ddink. Yes but yea. Sorry cany ptoduce anything.bettet. Wed. Yeah.
- Me: Drunk at noon. Winning.
The Break-Up
- Darren: Real talk. How do you feel about us?
- Justin: Us? Okay.
- Darren: Okay?
- Justin: Well, this is only my second relationship. I think I was just excited at the idea of being in a relationship.
- Darren: And now?
- Justin: Now, the smoke cleared and I'm seeing what's left and I don't know. The chemistry. I think we lost it.
- Darren: What does that mean?
- Justin: I mean, I'm looking at what's happening, and I don't think we work. Sometimes, you're with someone and you think, 'huh, this could work,' but I don't see that with us. Don't you feel the same way.
- Darren: No.
- Justin: No?
- Darren: [What I should have said.] My cell phone background is a picture of us. I talk about you non-stop. I have diary entries that talk about you in detail. I show you off to my friends.)
- Darren: [What I really say.] No...
- Justin: I just don't feel excited anymore.
- Darren: Then we should break up.
- Justin: I'd like that.
- Darren: I would have brought this up sooner, but I couldn't get you to text me back this past week.
- Justin: Yeah, I sort of fell off the radar.
- Darren: Yeah. You really did.
- Justin: It was just bad timing. I've been sick this past week, I have finals, school, and work. But I'd still like to be friends. If that's ok. I like talking to you. I like our discussions.
- Darren: I... I don't know if I can do that. In my experience, of which I actually have some, it doesn't work out like that. Very rarely.
- Justin: All right.
- Darren: So... I'm going to go, okay?
- Justin: Okay. Are you okay?
- Darren: I will be. Goodbye, Justin.
- Justin: I don't want to get you sick, so you probably shouldn't touch me.
- Darren: (cooly) I wasn't going to, anyway.
I’d like everyone to meet my boyfriend, Justin. We’ve been seeing each other for a while, but official for a few weeks. He is pretty much a great guy and has amazing bone structure. :) He’s also ridiculously smart and I get a braingasm every time I talk to him. Also, my best friends think he’s pretty swell, so he passed the test.
Also, for the record, FUCK, my boyfriend is HOT.
We're a-Thor-able <3
Reblogged from theginny
- Roomie: We're keeping it low-key
- Me: Loki? As long as you keep it behind closed Thors
- Roomie: As tough Asgarding it may be.
- Me: stawp.
- Roomie: Vallhalla, might as well post it on tumblr for my 100s of closest followers but not on FaceBook where my real friends and family are...
- Me: O(well)din, that's how we roll.
- <p> YES. GOOD ENOUGH. I AM PUNNY. YES. THIS IS GOOD. YES. I AGREE</p>
The 13 Most Useless College Majors (As Determined By Science)
Reblogged from brucebannerd
1. Fine Arts
3. Film, Video, and Photographic Arts
4. Commercial Art and Graphic Design
5. Architecture
6. Philosophy and Religious Studies
7. English Literature and Language
8. Journalism
9. Anthropology and Archeology
11. Music
12. History
2 and 8. Double majored in FUCK MY LIFE.
Reblogged from thedailywhat
Music Video of the Day: These two are a hot mess if ever there was one. And there was.
GPOY. GPOY OH MY GOD. GPOY.
Cnidaria
Do you smile?
Not ever at all, just when you think?
Specifically of a certain someone
with some something
on a thin wing
di or monocot thing?
Do you travel past the world
orbital and past horizon
effervescent respiration
past the fears and trepidation?
Do you acknowledge that you found
something amazing on the ground?
or do you find it hard to work
and so substandard is could fork
the roads you found substantiated
and the roads so blocked and caved in
but you’re past the rock and walls
and found amazingly you fall
right in the pit
where you might sit
and stop and think
or take a drink
of whiskey sour
past the hour
and a soda
past the coda
Back to start where you may find
someone may question what you mind
and through the while
all the while
Do you smile
When you think of me?
My Roommate (theginny) is just too perfect for words.
We have real talk on the kitchen counter, recount stories of weird parties gone weirder, and actually inserted YOLO in the conversation at the same time, together. Then, when it was too much to handle, we separate, only to reconnect a half hour later to discuss real talk again, followed by how best we can troll people. And we have a trolling plan in motion that rivals the beauty of the stars and the moon. She just understands me in a way that makes me go, “Oh, you are literally that person from Tumblr we all wish we could find in real-life. It’s unfair.”
SHE IS THAT TUMBLR GIRL. BE JEALOUS.
Except you, Brenna. Don’t be jealous, cuz I luv you lots.
I don’t know from where this came…
My thinking isn’t right. I understand that now, but still it’s like some phantom shadow in my soul moves me to these self-destructive tendencies. I always mocked those who cut themselves or planned suicide. I even mocked those in death because they committed the ultimate failure of life, and by dying, were not even playing, and therefore not even worth the consideration. But I notice this slipping spiral. This slow, dark, narthex was my final choice. Do I enter the light and pass the screen and hope for a blessing or turn around and head back to a glass container and shattered hopes? Obviously the latter, because that phantom in my soul decided it so.
I have willpower. I have more willpower than you will ever know, but that willpower is only so strong as the opposing force. In some people the pull isn’t strong. You think no and they say yes and your no is stronger than the strength of their yes. In me, everything is so much more. I say no stronger than any no said before and the slow, shallow, slithering yes says yes in its subtle, unadulterated tone and I’m compelled.
Just one more time, I say. Once more and then I forever abandon this idiotic fantasy of full time freedom. I will turn my dirty snout to the trough and feed and forget, but instead I roll in my mud, coat myself, and forget my problems. Everyone else is lining up for slaughter, but I choose to be that worthless pig, the one forgotten.
And if you think that metaphor is a good thing, I assure you, my sweet oink, it is not. To die by fate’s hands serves a better ship for crossing the river Styx than one’s own. I choose to destroy myself and all that I am. And I can not stop.
