martynka1

[martynka1]

also why r mean girls dvds so rare in Poland, i want one so bad but im not using my whole allowance for a single film😭😭😭

[martynka1]

I'm afraid so, yes 🥲

did we all universally have the worst time of our lives when we were 13

[martynka1]

Gretchen, they could NEVER make me hate you. My girl wasn't even mean to begin with!!!

I hate the "Heather Duke crawled so Gretchen Wieners could walk", what in the hell is this comparison, after Regina was out of the group Gretchen was happy that she's free. Heather Duke after Heather Chandler was literally DEAD went like, hmmm I could take her place. And yeah, her redemption arc kinda makes sense because she was semi bullied by Heather and got kinda manipulated by JD, but like oh okay maybe she wasn't that bad. No, I take it back she was, remember the scene when she came to Veronica's house? Rude af. Besides she would've done that without JD's help, she just needed time. She already started doing her hair like Heather's, all she needed was to ditch green and use more red, since she already grew saltier after her death. I mean she was already fake when she did those interviews so.

Heather Duke turned into a mean girl while Gretchen was just a sweet soul who needed to find her own friend group!!! I'll stand by it.

These are just two comedies, I get it, but my girl Gretchen is an angel at heart.

Plus are we gonna ignore that in the musical she's spreading those rumours about Veronica spending a night with Kurt and Ram??? That shit wasn't even mean, it was downright cruel.

[martynka1]

this cd (especially carnival) and my wife (Jill) is like the best combo ever

(no i dont have a cardboard cutout of her, why would i? i totally dont have a pic of her by my keys...)

[martynka1]

this actually sounds like a dream i dont see the problem

Waking up randomly in the middle of the night and then just eating pizza is definitely something.

[martynka1]

me because i feel a constant urge to change the theme of my profile, but i feel like I've established myself with this exact pfp here and i dont wanna chnage it aghhfhyfwvvn

[martynka1]

she's for the girls only!!!!! (actually she's me and I'm her but wtvr)

I've been there for her ever since part 2 started 🙏🙏🙏

[martynka1]

seriously you fucking called them empty bitches with no personality outside of liking boys, and now you're all sweet and cool with them??? wow

[martynka1]

this when i get comfortable but when a cool girl from my class tried talking to me i go all shy and even stumble with my words😭😭

miss class president please I'm really trying but you're flustering me!!!! i love you thank you for sitting with me in classes and on the school trip, but i do NOT have your swag😢

Born to be quiet and mysterious

Forced to be an oversharing yapper

[martynka1]

nicole & jecka collages

[martynka1]

I'm presenting to you my child

[martynka1]

it takes one "darling" and I'm swooning😭😭

[martynka1]

[martynka1]

going back to my roots

Marina your presence in my life will never be forgotten ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[martynka1]

i feel so so so deeply connected to this game it's insane, i only finished the 4th drop but omg

i need this game injected into my veins because we just have the same blood type, actually this game is just my blood cells transformed into a program and ported to consoles

[martynka1]

i was in this exact situation at school recently and god!!! thinking about any cod man (specifically Simon) helping me calm down even for a second makes my heart crumble </33 (i need this)

TF141 & International student neighbor on the verge of a crisis

You didn’t cry when you moved into your flat. A few tears spilled when the kettle refused to boil, and the radiator wheezed like it was dying, but that hardly counted. You weren’t this close to a soul-shattering mental breakdown in four different languages and two whole personalities. Nope. That was just being a successful woman, completely in control of her life. You lived in a flat that could be described as vintage, or one good gust from collapsing, as your best friend kindly put it when you called. It had four walls, a roof, and the washing machine only flooded the kitchen every other week. It wasn’t the worst deal in the world. At least you didn't have spiders building their little lego-web houses on the ceiling. That would be disgusting.

However, you spent your first night on the couch wrapped in every hoodie you owned, scrolling through your phone with the Wi-Fi from the library nearby that cut out if you breathed wrong, wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into.

The move to England had been impulsive, at least that’s what your parents said. “You’re barely out of high school, sweetheart. Isn't it too soon?” But you wanted to prove you could do it; be independent, get a degree, build a career. Whatever that meant. You didn’t know yet. Those stupid tik toks about girlbossing your way through life didn’t help much, either. Classes were hard. Work was harder. You cleaned tables at a café full of old ladies who judged your every move, then crammed lectures and assignments into your evenings, falling asleep to the sound of cats screeching in the alley outside your window.

And then there were your neighbors.

The first time you saw them, your eyeballs nearly popped out. Four men who looked like they’d walked out of an action movie trailer. Broad shoulders, broader chests, paired with alertness that made you sit up straighter when they walked by. Pavlov's a bitch. One of them wore a beanie and had a beard that probably intimidated children. Or made them laugh, it depends on who you ask. You bet he worked as Santa Claus during Christmas time, that beard would do wonders. One limped slightly but moved like he’d break into a sprint at the slightest excuse, he also had a nasty scar on his head. One always had his baseball hat up and gentle eyes. And the last one… he wore sunglasses even on cloudy days and didn’t speak unless he was being sentenced to death. You nicknamed them The Lads before you even learned their names. It was honestly a really bad attempt at copying the British accent, a silly little inside joke meant only for yourself.

It was the limp that pulled you into their circle. Soap. His real name was Johnny, but everyone called him that. Something had happened to him. Not a car crash kind of injury, and surely not a oops-I-got-a-paper-cut issue. Something else. A kind of hurt that reeked of bloodshed and gunfire. He looked so cheerful despite it all... you envied his lack of self-restraint. He helped you carry a box of books up the stairs when you dropped it.

"You don’t look like a librarian." You tried to break the ice.

He grinned. “Cheers, lass. Ye don’t look like yer old enough to be living alone.”

“Rude,” you replied, winded. “But fair.” You became something like their mascot after that. Or a stray pup they all silently agreed to look after.

Price knocked on your door the night your power went out. Just handed you a flashlight and an extra blanket and left, didn’t even wait for a thank you. Gaz noticed your bike had a flat and fixed it without a word. Ghost, well, Ghost scared you a little. A lot. But you never said it to his face. It wouldn't be polite, would it?

You weren’t supposed to become attached to them. They were four grown men with lives and a bond so deep you couldn’t begin to understand. And you? You were just the girl next door. Sweet, a little clueless, a little cheeky, and hanging on by a thread.

You were tired all the time. Tired of pretending you were having the time of your life when really, you felt like you were slowly crumbling. Like the version of yourself that had boarded that plane so full of hope and plans had somehow gotten lost between Heathrow and the broken laundromat on the corner. How could you tell your mum you were regretting everything? How could you face your brother and say that the big sister he looked up to was just a loser? The weather was hell 365 days out of 365, if someone offered you another fish and chips dish you'd crash out, and you were likely forgetting all of the damned languages you spoke because of the humidity eating your brain cells.

Wasn't youth supposed to be the best time of your life? This was the part where you found yourself and laughed and made memories you’d cherish forever... Seriously, what the heck were you doing? You felt cold and alone. Ate one-pound meals at the measly convenience store run by Aunt Wang and listened to her ranting in Mandarin Chinese. What an exciting existence. How dignified.

Until the night you cried in the stairwell. You’d just finished a shift where someone called you incompetent because you didn’t know what a “flat white” was supposed to taste like. Your exam results had come back worse than expected. And your period had started early, like the universe had decided to kick you where the sun doesn't shine while you were already down. Bollocks, Simon's voice rang in your mind. You were curled up by the railing, the hoodie laid over your knees, when the door opened. Boots. Heavy ones. Speaking of the devil, Ghost’s voice scared the shit out of you. “Bad day?”

You sniffled, eyeing him up and down. “No, just peachy. Rainbows and all that.”

“Bollocks." He countered timely. You giggled. It was ridiculous and extremely easy to make your day better. Any of them could with just a snap of fingers. "I'm telling Price y'were here cryin' like a baby."

"Oh, shut it. I'll have you know some of us have beating hearts under our ribcage, Mr. Creep-a-lot."

"Oi, yer fifteen years too young t'make fun o'me."

Perhaps you did have one good thing in your hands, wasting it would be a shame.

[martynka1]

I've never seen an ugly face in my life. If someone seemed ugly to me, it was because of their heart.