(Source: dnnyca)
my cat caught his first mouse everyone give him a pat on the back
monstersneedlove replied to your photo
what is with all your weird movie stuff
See, Nitin’s name on SORA was Godking Nitin Prasad after Kali was granted administrative powers. Rahul posted a photoshop of Kali as the godfather that said “The Askfather”, and I felt that this was much more suited.
“I am Ligand” is just a great pun, and I had seen someone spell Legend as Legand earlier that day, which was the spark.
// Clouds//
The chainsaw roared thunder and electricity, chewing through the air itself as he knew his bones would be. The delicate aroma of burning gasoline clogged his throat, more frightening than the blade itself. It almost felt he would choke to death first. As he looked in the eyes of his soon-to-be executioner, he saw no mercy.
—
The rain slid down the window in little organic formations, grouping and splitting as a thousand other forces combined dictated.
—
Fitting on his neat little turquoise sweatshirt, his sandy blond hair and dimples made the picture perfect first grader.
—
Why what who thought I’d die here. Die in my own basement.
It wasn’t the basement part that was really troubling. He just didn’t think that he would ever die. He didn’t recall ever not being alive, so it was pretty strange to think these might be his last thoughts.
—
The rain just won’t stop.
—
His brother walked in the door, unbuttoning his coat carefully, placing it neatly on the banister.
Tonight was going to be bad very bad oh dear.
A hurricane was brewing, grabbing a beer just after walking in the door.
—
Please stop. Please please oh please stop the rain it just keeps coming the sky is black.
The wind smashed his cheek in, pressed his eyeballs back into the depths of their sockets. It was hard to breathe now, he felt like he was drowning in air and thick sweet moisture.
—
The chainsaw slowed down and stopped. Over his brother walked, eyes bulging, insane and deluded. Deluded, but very capable of throwing a punch or twenty right at his face, hand grasped around throat, broken ribs pulsating pain to the beat.
—
He just keeps going what is this the eight beer oh whoops forgot about the whiskey did we not again we won’t. I want to leave-
“Heywhatareyou-whatare you doing…here inmy house?”
“Umm well I live here you know…”
—
With hands tightly grasped around his arms, so powerful and unyielding, screaming was no use; his brother couldn’t hear him through layers of drugs and alcohol. He had ceased to be a human being anymore.
He was pushed into the cellar; it was barren besides an old mattress, cold concrete, and dry to the bone wood.
Why does he want to go down here…?
—
Blood trickling no wait not trickling hmm gushing yes from my nose and eyes and gums.
The chainsaw gnashed once again. This time there was no hesitation. His foot was ripped and gnashed by the teeth, powered by fire and previously untapped savage energy. His howling went unnoticed, even by himself; sound had ceased to exist for any meaningful purpose. His throat began curdling at the revulsion of his own ripped leg. His brother wielded the instrument deftly, as an extension of himself, towards ribs ready to be powdered. Why can’t my eyes just pop out of their sockets already it hurt so much teeth knashing and tongue already bitten off lying like a piece of meat in my mouth. Oh thank god unconsciousness sweet sweet empty free from the blood.
// Helen//
Helen took a dim notice of the soft light muffled by her blinds. The Pantone 1625 walls and gold painted banister played delightfully together in the pale morning. Floral dresses were laid gracefully in piles.
Waiting this minute or so for her alarm to go off was dully excruciating or excruciatingly dull; she could never decide which. All that mattered was the tug at her skull wanting it to end, one way or another. She could either wake up right now, or keep waiting.
In her indecision, the clock rang.
She flicked on the light switch and looked at her naked body in the mirror. She was classically beautiful. Not in the sense of being thin, blonde, fair-skinned, large-breasted. She was these things as well, but primarily, something far more. She exuded a feeling of ancient and haunting beauty, the beauty of a maiden, with wise eyes, a strong nose, and light rosy cheeks.
But inside, she felt like somebody else entirely. The gripping in her stomach of perpetual anxiety. Sore teeth from clenching them, just to feel the pleasure of pain. And above all, a disgust of her fellow human beings and herself.
When she got to school, she couldn’t help but think, pearls before swine, that’s what preparing myself daily is. Rinsing myself clean, applying eye liner, lipstick, foundation, picking out the perfect dress and accessory combination. Pearls before swine. Wait, that’s not right. As if hosing down mud makes it any less dirty. There’s a reason why I’m single.
“Helen! You look absolutely fabulous today! That lipstick is divine, it really makes your eyes pop too, you know?” Huh, I wonder why she’s trying to butter me up today. Probably wants me to bring her along to Brad’s party so she can hook up with Keith. Yeah, definitely. But whatever, it’s the least I can do for a fellow maggot.
“Thanks Carmen! Your shoes are awesome too, did they have any in size seven?” God, those shoes are ugly, it’s like she thinks we live in the Stone Age. Go rustle me up some mountain lion and berries after you fuck Keith on Saturday.
Why am I still single anyhow? I never used to think that being emotionally unavailable was a thing. If it means not caring about anyone else’s problems, interests, goddamn favorite sports team, college major, well, I’m booked. Some people find it debilitating to like someone, they fear the pain of someone not liking them back. But the only thing that I desire is desire itself. Because it’s so much easier to do something when you want to. Living must be real easy for most people, with a will to live, to have their brains so cluttered, keeping them busy from thinking about the unknown.
One reason why I’m still single is cause everyone is so damn predictable.
Japanese aficionado with goth overtones and a bent for showing off her “randomness”.
Victoria’s Secret Pink line, cheap sandals to focus attention on her oh-so-pretty toenails, excess makeup, a little chubby, definitely shallow in intellect as well as standards. Goes for the dumb guys, because they go for her.
White cis heterosexual male, obsessed with finding meaning (just like the rest of the world, so original), blurts out seemingly innocuous pop cultural references at inappropriate times to form some sort of connection with whoever he’s with, because maybe they’ll remark on it. Thinks he’s got a unique sense of style; of course there are five others like him just at this school.
The predictability did not make things simpler. In fact, the inverse applied. It was such a mystery how anyone could keep going day after day with no meaning to any of it, nothing to find out.
Ah, now hold on. I can give my life meaning.
She was tired, more in mind than body. But the rest of her day passed easily, finally knowing what she should do with her life. All the little pleasantries and even being around douchebags, none of it mattered; it just became a motion.
Helen undressed and looked at herself in the mirror. A shiver ran down her spine.
She smiled.
The air began to burn, as if she were inhaling shots of vodka, pouring whiskey all over her flawless skin. Itching, stinging, terrible smelling, beautiful. Her throat began to constrict, eyes drying out, her hands cracking, turning red. She finally sat herself down in the bucket of ammonia and bleach, a wildfire rippling through her whole body, giving her satisfaction as no boy could. She was fed up with waiting, so very aware of her lifespan. Finally taking control, having a desire; to die, if not to live, was her greatest moment. The mortal coil shuffled off, she found solace in darkness.
// UC-Davis’s best scholarships://
-Descendant of Confederate veteran of Civil War
-Jewish orphan studying aeronautical engineering
-Woman resident of Los Angeles for two years or more
-From a small town or the open country
-From Yolo county and interested in a career in agricultural sciences
-Played basketball at Butte or Yuba Community Colleges
-Mature person returning to college after at least five years
// Vermeer//
I finally found you now, in a dream,
at the gallery, checking out some Klimt.
Your face radiating like a light beam,
I suspected that you were being pimped.
Your perfume, like an exotic flower.
I wasn’t interested in Miro.
Eyes surging with incredible power,
I thought you might be an anti-hero.
But this saga could have only one end;
I would end up with a fate like Van Gogh.
This was one blow which my heart could not mend,
and so I was filled with a deep sorrow.
Closer to you I will not be nearing,
for you are the girl with the pearl earring.
