About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I had a pokemon. Second, there was a part of me - and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be - that wanted to be the very best, like no one ever was. Third, Gary Oak was unconditionally and irrevocably a douchenozzle.
Reblogging for the comment
How old are you?
How long have you been ten?
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TEN
Misty looked at Ash, his breathing still heavy from carrying her on his bike as fast as he could through the long grass outside of Pallet Town.
“You’re eyes are impossibly huge and black,” Misty said. “Your hair is… incredibly pointy, and doesn’t need product. Your face changes size and shape based on your feelings… and sometimes you speak like - like you’re from the 90’s. You never spend money on anything; you don’t go to the bathroom.”
The silence hung there, thick and heavy like a Snorlax blocking the bike path.
“How old are you?” Misty asked, not sure if she wanted to know.
“Ten,” Ash replied, with a slight smirk and an almost amused tone.
Misty new that wasn’t true. Ash wasn’t like the other boys her age. He wasn’t even like her older sisters who ran the gym in Cerulean City. He was wiser and his passion was genuine.
Ash didn’t just want to catch them all, he needed to. He was going to be the best there ever was no matter how long it took, which gave Misty this nagging in the back of her mind. She had to know for sure.
“How long have you been ten?” she asked. Her voice weak, knowing full well the answer could change everything she thought she knew.
“A while…” Ash said. His voice trailing off, as if he were losing himself in a flood of memories.
Misty let out a faint gasp. She knew now. She was certain.
“I know what you are,” she declared, as if whatever had been holding her back from accepting the truth, finally let go of her hand and let her fall right down the Diglett hole.
Ash eyes were alive now, flickering like the flame on a Charmander’s tale.
He stared right into her and said, ”Say it… out loud. Say it.”
Misty’s heart was pounding louder than the thud of a Marowak’s bone club attack.
Despite the now eerily silent meadow, she could barely be heard as she whispered, “Pokemon Trainer.”
My mom just informed me that my first word was “quote” so I’m going to make sure my last word before I die will be “unquote”
you have been blessed with a rare and epic opportunity
Have you ever been so sad that you can’t even cry you just sit there and think about how sad you are
i think that everyone has scars
maybe not on their wrists or their inner thighs or on their knees
on their hearts, souls, and between the cracks and crevices of the little universes they’ve created inside of themselves
Drake lookin like that dude who brings pokemon cards to the function when everyone is clearly playing Yu Gi Oh
Snoop dog looks like a businessman
J Cole looks like this one spanish kid who tried to take my money once but failed
Eminem lookin like ya local sociopath
ASAP cooling. Kirko cooling. T.I cooling. Big sean cooling. Wiz Khalifa looks like the type who would spell cooling Koolin and then add “with da fam” even though he’s by himself.
Nicki Minaj looks like one of them girls who would get up in lunch and yell out “I DONT GIVE A FUCK” while arguing with someone and punctuate each syllable
Lil Wayne looks like he smoked and skated a lot, which isn’t far from the truth
Ludacris looks like the type to ask you if you wanted your muffin buttered, and would probably smang some other chick
P Diddy looked like he stressed over his prom date
Not commenting on pitbull
Frank Ocean looks stern. Like if you said something corny he’d just look at you and shake his head.
Jay Z looks flustered
Tyler the Creators ears were bigger than his dick at that age probably
ASAP rocky was fashion forward. Looking like a character from New Jack City
Once again Pitbull doesn’t matter
Kanye looks like a kid who just started getting facial hair and started experimenting with it
holy shit i’m fucking dying at this commentary
lmfao, only for the commentary
Somebody please give the Ember Island Players an Oscar.
- 50% of me: "I love dresses and flowers and pretty things."
- Other 50% of me: "I love tattoos and hardcore music and concerts and skinny jeans."
OMG REBLOG THIS & LOOK AT UR BLOG ITS COMPLETELY DIFERENT
OH MY GOD WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK HOW!??!?!?!?