Anime, AMVs, Pictures Galore

I am a proud anime addict, AMV lover, writer, procrastinator, time waster, bookworm, GFX lover, romance fanatic, and an all around weirdo!
Who I Follow

themegalosaurus:

Jensen doesn’t recommend bikram yoga (Dallascon 2014)

(via teamfreesnuggles)

kanda3egle:

Reincarnations. I cried all night… (ι´Д`)ノ

(via digivice)

queensnufkin:

michaelbeara:

sam:

vondell-swain:

adamusprime:

vondell-swain:

bad news apple

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now im wondering why i didnt make this joke

those aren’t even bees though they’re wasps

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IT’S BACK OH YAY

(via beach11girl)

lynferonismultiverse:

euthanizeallwhitepeople:

White privilege is having stringy ass hair that falls out before you’re 40, bye. -Mali

These women have amazing hair :D

(via beach11girl)

Asker Anonymous Asks:
please elaborate on how you got a substitute teacher to quit within one day. I'm genuinely curious.
randomthoughtsofarandomperson randomthoughtsofarandomperson Said:

mysticmoonhigh:

mamalovebone:

all right everyone sit down, shut up and listen closely because I’m about to tell y’all the tale of Ms. Mormino.

Seventh grade is a time most people don’t look back on fondly. I know I sure don’t—I tend to regard that era as nothing more than an unpleasant, acne-filled haze of fall out boy and poor attempts at pseudo-zooey deschanel fashions. But enough about me. Let’s talk about my math teacher. 

Ms. Isom. Poor old Ms. Isom. Well in her 60’s, always plagued with some illness or injury, she was hardly ever even at school. Since many of her absences were the result of short-notice incidents—“falling down the stairs” was popularly cited— it wasn’t all that uncommon to not have a substitute on hand. Being a smartass honors class, we’d gotten away with several successful evasions of administration, walking cavalierly into class  to pass the next 48 minutes doing just about nothing. Hell, for good measure, we’d sometimes even toss in a friendly “hey, Ms. Isom!” if any administrators were anywhere within earshot. So incredibly anti-establishment, you could basically call it another Project Mayhem, except instead of Brad Pitt and Ed Norton concocting homemade bombs, it was a bunch of tweenyboppers with iPhone 3’s and Justin Bieber 2009 haircuts. 

 We got pretty accustomed to our own little self-governing system that rolled around every second period, so we naturally weren’t exactly thrilled when administration caught on to our little Anarchy Act and strictly enforced the presence of a substitute every day. 

Most of our subs weren’t terrible—most were friendly, gave us participation grades, and didn’t object to the independent attitude of our class (which, mind you, only had about ten students in it) 

That is, until Ms. Mormino came along. 

Four feet, ten inches of raw, undiluted evil, Ms. Mormino walked into class with a scowl on her face and a chip on her shoulder. When the girl behind me sneezed, Ms. Mormino’s immediate response was “NO INAPPROPRIATE NOISES!” 

 Although we all suppressed our laughter, we all knew from that moment on that, try as she might with her despotism and her draconian anti-sneeze policy, Ms. Mormino didn’t stand a chance. 

 The arguable beginning of the end for Ms. Mormino’s all-too-brief reign of terror was the moment I asked for a calculator; mine was broken. Mormino asserted that I could only borrow a calculator if I loaned her something of mine; at that moment, the girl next to me chimed in, saying she, too, needed a calculator. “I have a folder I can give you,” I offered. “I have a highlighter,” added the other girl. 

 At that moment, a puberty-creaking voice from the back of the room piped up. 

Max. 

We all know certain people have certain gifts. Michelangelo saw angels in every block of marble and devoted his life to setting them free; Einstein had a mind which saw the potential of the entire universe; F. Scott Fitzgerald wove intricate tales of decadence and depravity. Max, however, had a different kind of gift: he could make anything—anything at all—into a “that’s what she said” joke. More on that later, though. 

Max pried off a Nike sneaker and held it proudly in the air, like a coveted trophy. 

"I have a shoe." 

Tottering in one-shoe-one-sock, Max dumped the sneaker on Ms. Mormino’s desk, retrieved a calculator, then tottered back to his own desk, a sort of smirk playing on his face. And, as to be expected—the rest of us quickly followed suit. 

 A small pile of shoes on her desk, Ms. Mormino grit her teeth and glared at us as we all sat back down, quietly victorious, a calculator in each of our hands. It wasn’t long, however, until we all began to silently plot our next act of minor mayhem. 

"Can I go to the bathroom?" asked Tyler, who, despite being in seventh grade, was approaching his sixteenth birthday. In a combination of verism and admiration of Tyler’s devil-may-care boldness, we unequivocally accepted him as our leader. For reasons unknown, Ms. Mormino denied his request. Tyler, much like his Fight Club namesake, heeded no rules but his own and left anyway—Ms. Mormino, furious, locked the door behind him and smugly insisted that "administration will take care of him." 

Tyler, however, was not one to be caught, and stayed close by, appearing in the window of the door whenever Ms. Mormino wasn’t looking. Waving, smiling, laughing, making faces and obscene gestures, Tyler had us all in stitches, but cleverly avoided Ms. Mormino’s sight—when she asked us what was so funny, we all refused to give Tyler away. 

A girl asked to go to the bathroom, stating she “really really really” needed to go. Ms. Mormino, again, denied her request. Ms. Mormino, however, seemed to be uninformed about the side door—leading right outside, always locked from the outside but always open from the inside. 

"Well, I’ll go myself," the girl responded, and took off, hurdling three desks and darting out the door. Right behind her, two other students took off, pursuing freedom. The door slammed behind all three students, and they were gone. 

 Six of us were left. Among us, importantly, was Chris. 

Chris was thirteen, but looked half his age; scrawny, wiry, he probably measured in at about four-foot-three, but no taller. “Late Bloomer” are words that come to mind. 

Despite his diminutive size, Chris possessed the gall of someone like Tyler.

"I have to use the bathroom," said Chris, standing. 

 ”Do you think I’m going to allow you to go to the bathroom?” snapped Ms. Mormino. 

 ”It’s an emergency!” Chris pleaded. 

"Sit down," Ms. Mormino growled. 

Meanwhile, the entire class borders on hysteria. We have tears in our eyes, almost suffocating from choking back laughter. 

"It’s an emergency," repeated Chris, but it sounded more like a warning.

"Sit."

Silence. Silence, Silence and more silence, until we all began to notice a dark stain on Chris’s khakis. The stain grew. And grew. And grew.

 Fists at his sides, stoicism in his face, and a cold, proud, triumphant glint in his eye, Chris locked eye contact with Ms. Mormino. 

And pissed right in his pants. 

The entire class erupted into a laugh only comparable to the detonation of a bomb. 

We laughed so hard for the next five, ten, fifteen minutes straight that Ms. Mormino gave up. Surrendering, putting her head on her desk, she waited until the hysteria finally subsided. 

Finally looking up, defeated, pathetic, Ms. Mormino glared at us all and wailed: 

 ”This is too much, this is too hard, too hard, Jesus Christ, this is too much for me!” 

 A lone voice sounded from the back of the room. Guess whose it was.

"That’s what she said."

Ms. Mormino officially retired from teaching that afternoon.

FUCKING READ IT IT’S WORTH IT

huffingtonpost:

This Man With Severe Cerebral Palsy Created Mind-Blowing Art Using Just A Typewriter

Last year, 22-time Emmy award-winning reporter John Stofflet posted this news video he created for KING-TV in 2004, featuring Paul Smith and his artistic talents.

See the full video to see more of Smith’s artworks and to learn more about his inspiring story go here. 

(via beach11girl)

alextimmons:

poco-loki:

thecorruptedquietone:

prongsmydeer:

Plot twist: The next companion is a normal girl/boy who only dies once in their lifetime and has no remarkable back story but he thinks they’re wonderful because they are human and the Doctor needs reminding that you don’t need to be a mystery to be remarkable. 

#and the doctor never has to kiss them or sexualize them at all #in fact they are not even attracted to the doctor

so basically we want Donna back

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(via beach11girl)

tortillah:

teacher: maybe we should move the test?

me: image

(via beach11girl)

apersnicketylemon:

chickenslayer99:

This is killing a human life.

At 23 weeks chances are good that this fetus is being removed because it is:

a) Already dead
b) Suffering abnormalities such as it developed no brain, or had a serious genetic condition that would kill it quickly.
c) Was actively dying (not dead yet but would be within a few days, 100% guarunteed, 0 chance of saving it)
d) Was actively killing the pregnant person.

Late term abortions, as shown here, make up only 1.5% of all abortions. The above four reasons are the only reasons such procedures are performed. Almost every abortion performed after 20 weeks is done on a wanted pregnancy. So you know what that means? You’re calling people who miscarried murderers. You just implied people who had a miscarriage or would have died murderers. How dare you call yourself pro life for that.

Now for the fun fact: They used to use a different procedure for these abortions in which they removed the fetus intact and allowed these people to grieve for the intact fetus, have pictures, etc. Pro lifers decided people losing a wanted pregnancy should not be allowed to grieve an intact fetus and we were left with this.

Congrats. Your movement is the reason they use this one now when people lose a wanted pregnancy late into the pregnancy. Your movement is intentionally making it harder for people to recover from the lose of a much wanted pregnancy. It’s your movement who left grieving people with this instead of allowing them something easier to deal with, something that would let them hold their deceased fetus.

Congrats. If you think you were ‘saving’ something think again. You’re hurting born people. You’re hurting people who lose a wanted pregnancy by shaming this abortion procedure. And you’re movement is the reason this is procedure doctors are forced to use now. You’re probably an awful and mean person to tell people losing a wanted pregnancy that they’re killers.

(via beach11girl)

hkcantopop:

dramapot:

twhiddlestom:

Is this the Hong Kong that we know?

Is this what should happen in Hong Kong?

Is this your impression of Hong Kong?

Please, spread it around the world now and let more people know about the issue, as this should not have been happened in a city like Hong Kong.

Some people might think - what’s the point of fighting? The Chinese government will never back down. Hong Kong only has 7 million people. Its influence is too insignificant for anyone to care. 

NO.

If we don’t fight for what we believe now, for our children, for our children’s children, we may never have the chance to do it ever again. 

Just look at what the Chinese government did in response. They blocked Instagram. If you think money is more important than freedom, that’s fine. That is what freedom means. I may not agree with you, but I will defend your right to say it. We can agree to disagree and at least respect each other.

Hong Kong-ers are protesting in peace, with no weapons. Their only weapons are eye masks, umbrellas and plastic wrap (to protect themselves from the tear gas). Heck, people even packed their rubbish in plastic bags after they left the area. 

As we were watching the news, my mum asked - if we were in Hong Kong right now, will we go to protest? YES. HELL YES. You don’t know how much I want to buy a plane ticket and join right now. I may not live in Hong Kong anymore but my relatives, my friends are there. I still love this city. I don’t want to see it die before my eyes.

HK understands that they might not get the democratic elections they ask for, but they just want to be heard and be responded to.

I want to join too :(((
Some schools are actually not “teaching” like everyone goes to school but the students gather in the auditorium or gym and sit there in protest. Peaceful protesting. Boycotting school not education!!
Support. Oh dear Hong Kong.
I love Hong Kong.

(via beach11girl)

batchthecumber:

So my school has this thing where we give offerings to our mascot, Testudo, during finals week because legend has it that he’s pretty lucky.

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And it’s this pretty cool tradition. But now, well, I think it may be getting a little out of hand….

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(via beach11girl)

team-raise-hell:

we are the poisoned youth x

(via teamfreesnuggles)

lacigreen:

WHY ISN’T THIS THE LAW ALREADY ACROSS THE COUNTRY AND ALSO THE WORLD