I make pretty shitty Transparencies, post pics from the concerts I go to, and reblog a lot of booty.
So leave me a question. That would be sweet.
My grandma would always x out people in her yearbook and write “Deceased” when one of her high school classmates died. We often found it morbid. Grandma wanted to be the last one living. She wanted to win.
That’s not a yearbook.
That’s a hit list.
what if people’s hair changed color based on their emotions
like one day you’re out getting a cup of coffee and you notice some cutie in the back of the coffeeshop and your hair starts turning bright pink and you do you best to try to hide it but you can’t help but look over and
they’re just sitting there, staring at you, their face as flushed as their locks