(Source: 1000scientists, via amberrrwang)
[video]
(Source: mrgolightly)
vanessa hudgens is never shy in front of a camera
(Source: prideisacoverforinsecurity)
south side
(via hypn0tizeme)
wow tess that is so last year I mean everyone knows that
oh well I guess not everyone
writing like it’s fucking livejournal. it’s long but excuse me since I never post. the topic is lips and a hookup.
Each fall of elementary school, my class would meet at the local YMCA for soccer team pictures. Every year we had a different color shirt. In second grade our shirts were dark green. That was the first time I noticed my lips.
Looking at the matte photo framed by thick black cardboard, it’s easy to spot me. In the front row, second from the left, my skin is the only one in the class you could consider a shade of brown. Also my eyes (black) and hair (jet black) set me apart from my Irish/German Catholic schoolmates. These were differences I accepted and didn’t even care about. But when I scanned the picture that year, I noticed another physical anomaly that I had. My lips. That year I chose to sport for the camera a closed-mouth smile which revealed to me the fullness of my lips. Compared with my classmates’ normal and thin carnation-pink lips, mine were big and round and close in color to that Crayola crayon Burnt Sienna.
——————————————————————————————————
So fast forward to a few weeks ago where I was playing third wheel to my friend and this girl who aren’t going out but have graduated from being that late-night convenience fuck to actually arriving to places together. The destination that night was the house of one of her friends who was throwing a last soiree before the end of the semester. Before we entered I noticed my friend’s girl grabbed his arm and pulled him close. I assumed her objective that night was to show off her new squeeze to all her girlfriends.
To her disappointment, the party was less than a rager. We had gotten there pretty late and the hostess tried to save face by explaining, “A lot of people were here earlier.” Looking at the very neat living room, this was either a lie or they kept a spotless house. There were couples sparsely scattered around, presumably making their sexual reservations for the evening. There was a group of girls gathering their coats from a pile in the corner, presumably giving up on the night. There was a makeshift bar on the dining room table. There was a girl in a purple dress sitting alone on the couch with her legs crossed and arms folded, holding a red cup. We shared a brief glance.
My friends soon joined the departing group while I proceeded to the dining room. The party may be lame but at least I could end the night with a couple of free drinks. You may see this as being the reasoning of a cheap alcoholic, but I think of it as being thrifty and social. I picked a cup from the tall stack and scooped a few melted ice cubes out of a bowl. I filled it with warm gin and a splash of Sprite and went back to the living room.
Feeling lucky, I joined the judgmental looking girl on the couch. I feel comfortable with girls like her. In eighth grade my two best friends were a cliquey pair of girls who whispered terrible things about our classmates in study hall. I attribute much of my sometimes-disparaging personality to my friendship with them. They were definitely not the nicest, but at least they were interesting. I hoped this girl would be equally as entertaining. She wore a fake gold bangle, real Chanel earrings and her violet mascara matched her dress. Lipstick, perfume. Three years ago I learned they call girls like this JAPs on the east coast.
”You look nice tonight,” I said.
She gave me one of those fake smiles you give when you meet someone new.
”Thanks,” she said.
”Why are you so dressed up?”
”Um, it’s my party.”
”Eek.”
She explained that her roommate was throwing the party for her because she was moving to San Francisco after finals. So she couldn’t leave.
”Oh is that why you look so pissed off?” I asked.
”And this guy was supposed to come…” She checked her phone. “But he never showed up.”
That’s when I thought ‘fuck it, go for it.’
”Well that sucks for him.” I moved her dark brown hair behind her ear, revealing a button nose and emerald green eyes. “Because he really missed out tonight.”
She smiled, genuinely this time.
We flirted for a bit, getting to know the basics. From - Colorado Springs, Major – art history, Name - something with a J. I noticed she would look at my mouth a lot during our talk, which prompted me to smile wide and ask whether there was something in my teeth.
“No it’s your lips,” she laughed.
“What about them?” I covered my mouth with my hand.
“They’re like gushers.”
I was confused. If I were a girl, that would probably be a compliment. But alas I am not.
“Is that good or bad??”
She laughed again.
“It’s a good thing.”
Two more Gin and Sprites later we were in her bedroom, drunkenly making out. I recall her using a generous amount of tongue. So much so that I gathered that her drink of choice that evening was Diet Coke and Bacardi. She shut the door and we started shedding clothes. She pulled off my shirt, I unzipped her dress. Soon we were on the bed, me on top of her. After we got our rhythm I looked down at her pale body. Even though it was pitch dark, I could make out every inch of her. I spotted moles on her side, freckles on her shoulder: this was probably the whitest girl I’ve ever fucked. Then I started to think this drunkenly flawed thought wondering about in ancient times, how did whites become the superior race in the world, when they couldn’t naturally hide from their enemies, even in the dark. I reckoned they could hide in areas with snow, but if they were naked there, they would probably freeze to death. Once again this was a really stupid thing to think of at the time, and I won’t go into further analysis. But I guess I had been lost in this speculation for a while because when I looked up at her, she looked annoyed, like I was some perv judging her figure.
So anyway we kept going in this position for a while and at one moment she reached behind my head. She grabbed my hair and pulled me towards her face. I closed my eyes, as is the etiquette for an anticipated kiss, no matter how sloppy. But I then felt something clamp down on my bottom lip. I opened my eyes and she had trapped my lip between her teeth. She slowly pressed them closer together and held my head in that position. I never thought I would be held captive by a stranger’s jaw but that’s what happened that night. Then she bit down hard until her lateral incisors pierced my inner lip. I mumbled the closest thing to “Ow” you can say without moving your jaw. Blood started dripping out and she let go.
I stopped and looked at her in wonder while licking blood from my new wounds. Her eyes widened. They turned the same shade of green as my second grade soccer shirt. She had this unsettling, almost sadistic smile on her face. I thought, who is this she-devil? Was she some sort of vampire? Or was she just a regular girl with a weird fetish? Or did she just take out her frustration of the night on my lip?
“What? Come on,” she moaned for me to continue. I figured I could ponder this later and we resumed making sex.
On the walk home I convinced myself that she just had a thing for lips and I was thankful that mine paid off that night despite the fact that I was sucking in blood. I also decided that if I ever told this story, I would embellish the vampire spin and claim she spoke with an Eastern-European accent.
(Source: letsdrinkbleach, via amberrrwang)