Mean people are nice to me because I’m special ☺️ *gets manipulated instead*
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Show & Tell
Peter Solarz
Xuebing Du

titsay

ellievsbear
Cosimo Galluzzi
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Product Placement

oozey mess
sheepfilms
dirt enthusiast

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
YOU ARE THE REASON
d e v o n

Andulka
Sade Olutola
Misplaced Lens Cap
Not today Justin
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany
seen from Netherlands

seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Malaysia

seen from Poland

seen from Romania

seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from Argentina

seen from Argentina

seen from Oman
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
@aprilxbishop
Mean people are nice to me because I’m special ☺️ *gets manipulated instead*

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I walk through the bright glance of people in love, who, looking briefly away from the lover across from them in order to more perfectly form a sentence, unwittingly cast their gaze across my path like a light. And so, momentarily, to have accidentally caught their desire, swimming across the current of it like that, passing through, I feel loved, in a warm and random way, wandering through it, as if it were a rainbow, that old trick of light.
Lorrie Moore, Who Will Run Frog Hospital? (via femmefatale-rps)
RADTASK 005 ➯ april’s aesthetic
seen daily in: long, flowing skirts that graze the ankle, high-waisted mom jeans and plain cotton tee’s, short sleeve button-downs and smocked, puffy-sleeve blouses, a fuzzy cardigan just in case there’s a chill, blonde hair tied up in a scrunchie, or swept under a shiny silk kerchief, or braided down her back and finished with a loose ribbon, with an overflowing tote bag hoisted over one shoulder (sometimes a wicker purse, just because it’s cute), and of course, a trusty, comfortable pair of white sneakers.
Armed with a black trash bag and a litter-pick, her blonde hair tied up in a kerchief that was both fashionable (shiny, pale-green silk patterned with little blue flowers) and functional (only a few flyaways had escaped, sticking sweatily to her forehead like a chic hairstyle from the 1930s), April had spent the last hour since breakfast at Knocking Lake. Today, she was the lone representative of Radcliffe’s Green Initiative Club. A few others had made promises, put their names on the sign-up sheet, but many of them had also posted from the same frat party last night— which meant they were all probably still in bed, nursing their respective hangovers. So it was just April, dutiful April, spearing litter from the mud and shooing beer cans out from under foliage. It was amazing how much trash there was in the world once you really looked— gum wrappers and bottle caps, styrofoam cups and cigarettes. So many cigarettes! She’d thought that people were supposed to be smoking less nowadays. Or at least, switching over to E-cigs and mango-flavored vapes. But the evidence of Radcliffe’s unkicked habit was quite literally all around her: butts thrown in the grass, butts bobbing in the shallows.
Up and down the banks she went all morning, her Green Initiative shirt dampening under the arms, pulling junk out of the weeds and stopping only once for a break. In spite of the trash and the sun’s unseasonal heat, in spite of the pesky gnats that millioned near the water, her mood was good. Happy, even. She felt uplifted by the work; doing it reminded her that there were still people like her, and like the other, absent but already-forgiven members of the Green Initiative, who cared. Surely that meant the world would be okay. April bent down and pushed aside some reeds by the water’s edge. That was when she saw it, floating like a dying dentist-office fish— a used condom. Her horror was swift and immediate. She stumbled back. The reeds whipped from her grasp and the resulting splash sent the condom gliding out towards open water, carried by a length of ripples. “Oh no, come back!” She couldn’t let some poor bird find it, mistake it for a worm— the thought alone made her stomach do a queasy somersault. April leapt quickly onto a flat rock, jabbing at the water with her pick and missing wildly. “Shoot!” Pivoting on the toes of her sneakers, trying to spot the fugitive bit of latex, only then did she notice someone had stopped to watch her frantic spearfishing. Both exertion and embarrassment stained her cheeks a bright pink. “Sorry, I just, I can’t let it get away— do you see it anywhere?”
@radopens

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ezramercvr:
Basement of the party rattling upstairs empty save for Mercy himself, it was probably an odd sight, seeing him sat cross-legged on the coffee table with a giant plate of cupcakes to his right, considering it’d been a while since he was on campus. Already, there were some stuck on the icing side to the wall across from him, some fallen forgotten on the ground. Upon hearing someone coming down the stairs, he paused mid chew to stare at them, literally caught with his hand in a cookie jar, “What?” he asked, tone defensive, “Think they were for someone’s birthday. Got kinda bored - target practice, y’know?” Gesturing towards the wall where some still stuck, he was rearing his arm back in the next second, tossing the second half of his uneaten cupcake at his counterpart, if not just to see what would happen.
Standing against a wall, she felt like a fixed point as the party moved around her. Siobhan had been by her side for a while, evaporated a little later— April knew better than to rely on her roommate being her only friend in a crowded room, but somehow, it always seemed to come down to that. Now she stood alone and sipped from her designated Solo cup of coke and Bacardi, not quite enjoying the masked taste of rum beneath the syrupy-sweetness of cola, but not resenting it either; mostly, it kept her from looking like a lost little kid waiting to be retrieved from the mall security desk. She had tried, a few times, to do the brave thing. Insert herself. Both hands gripping the cup, she’d walked up to one group where she recognized some people— here was Eddie from her freshman Linguistics class, and Tabitha from Photography Club— and smiled prettily, a flush already stealing into her cheeks, glancing around as they debated some episode of TV which had no relevance to her. She’d managed to blurt something embarrassing into the conversation, some inane bit of trivia about one of the actors, which had earned her a questioning, sideways look from Tabitha, and nothing at all from anybody else. The conversation moved on. Shortly afterwards— finding it difficult to keeping looking so fascinated by the inside of her drink— April had drifted away again. Now she was orbiting the edges of the party like a stray satellite, knowing that if this room were the universe, it’d let her go largely unnoticed. By eleven, she was beginning to cast glances towards to the door, ready to drift on somewhere else less crowded, perhaps less lonely, when she remembered the plate she’d brought. It was one of her good ones; a big fancy dish with a scalloped edge. The cupcakes, she thought, eyeing the stairs to the basement, then letting her feet take her in that direction. Maybe seeing how much the plate had emptied would lift her spirits.
But instead, she was met with heartbreak. Massacred buttercream. So many innocent victims, smashed against the wall, fallen to the floor. Whatever spirits she still had left were taken and broken quickly, like a stick over the knee. “Oh...” Her eyes had grown huge, looking around at the floor, and when she lifted them, she saw the arm reared back in an overhand pitch. Now there was very little separating April from a deer staring helplessly into oncoming traffic. “Oh, please don’t— “ With a small yip, she ducked, just in time for the cupcake to sail past her head and smack straight into the wall, sliding down to a similar fate as all the ones around her feet. “Oh my god!” She stood frozen in place for a second, gaze averted, hardly moving a muscle. A startled prey response. Then, when it seemed like no other cupcakes were about to become airborne, she braved another look upwards. “They were... they were for Courtney’s birthday!” she managed, eyes cartoonishly wide, perhaps with too much rum in her voice. The rum was quickly becoming a sting she felt when she blinked: the inevitable precursor to tears. “Why would you...” She heard her own pleading despair. “I’m sorry, if you didn’t— like them, just, please stop throwing them, and let me... clean this up.”
*toots on my kazoo* HALLO.... sloth here with another fun round of: lets see if i can handle a second character!! this intro is very long and very ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but idc! some people are really good at writing straightforward intros and i am not one of those people! it is what it is! if u’d like to plot with april, pls hit that like n i will scurry over posthaste 🏃♀️
『LAURIJN BIJNEN ❙ FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like APRIL BISHOP is here for SOPHOMORE year as a SOCIAL WORK student. SHE is 20 years old & known to be SWEET, KIND-HEARTED, SENSITIVE & INSECURE. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ sloth. 25. est. she/her
(this is the only gif ur ever gonna see from me its not so good but i made it special for this occasion enjoy)
oh mood
me after waking up from an unrealistic romantic dream

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I went looking for body But they're giving me thin I was hoping to sail though But they're making me swim I went looking for knives And they're giving me blooms I went looking for knives And I was looking for you
Who cares? I do. Just a little. Just enough to ruin each day.
Miranda July (via rhianne-writes)
Jenny Slate, Little Weirds
Painting by Aleksandra Waliszewska

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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me in my head at the supermarket: nobody is ever going to fucking love me. omg 25% off