Love Language

People think Chuuya joining the ADA will be him and Kunikida teaming up against Dazai's antics and having a mutual bond over having the Worst of partners when like

Kunikida will probably have to babysit TWO grown-ass children because they can't be in a room for five seconds without being at each other's throats.

i’m going to kdxjdhdjhddjjdhs

God I fucking hate Olaf the snowman so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid lumpy face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking legs? Who the hell makes a snowman with legs. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking SNOW BUCK TOOTH that no snowman has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Olaf or an Olaf gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Olaf the fuckshit snow fucker, I like warm hugs". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Tow Mater summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking lumpy carrot nose and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children's movie, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the snow dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking nose. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional snowman

“i. when my blood spilled down the temple steps, were you glad? when my wedding robes dripped scarlet, did you regret it, or did you smile, as the beat of my heart soared and sputtered and then stopped? as i bled out on your altar stone? was it worth it? ii. when your poets told my mother i died willingly, did you force yourself into believing it? old man, when they said a deer was sent to take my place, did you remember the way i bled out in front of you, or did you imagine a doe’s eyes and hooves made for running? did you imagine anything at all? iii. when you won your war, did you think of me then? when the streets filled with crimson, heavy as monsoon rain, did you think of my sacrifice, my life, laid down at your feet? did your men hold a vigil? do you even remember? iv. father, i do. father, i remember everything. father, i remember the way my eyes felt heavier with each wine-red drop. i remember the way your armies cheered as i lay dying, as the wind lifted the sails of your ships, and i was forgotten. father, i did not die willingly. father, the dead do not forget. father, i am waiting.”

— iphigenia, vengeful | m.c.p

Had a dream where mini golf was added to the Olympics. And one of the Olympic mini golf athletes lost the gold because she hit the windmill.

And she tweets with a picture of the windmill and the caption “bout to go through my Don Quixote phase” and honestly I think that’s the funniest thing my brain has ever come up with.

WARNING: MASSIVE WIND & TRUTH SPOILERS DO NOT ENGAGE IF HAVEN’T FINISHED (some cremposting for those who have)

Your effort shows, it was amazing. That said if even you don't like your header why do you use it

@boombboi @glittercrashhh

SHE LIKED IT!!!!!!!!

The chronicle of the monk Herbert of Reichenau for the year 1021 ends “My brother Werner was born on November 1.“ 

1021 was not an uneventful year. The emperor began a campaign into Italy. Illustrious abbots died. There was an earthquake. But Herbert took the time to note, at the end of the year, that his brother was born. 

Of such acts of tenderness is history made. 

It's alright Dalinar, babe, he got this. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- image description: A loosely scribbled and coloured comic page with several panels in four rows of the scene in Words of Radiance in which Kaladin joins the duel in the arena. The background in the panels is painetd very patchily implying the seats of the arena with half roofs offering shadow from the sun above. The first row has two panels, on the left we see an agitaed Dalinar, in his blue uniform with gold and white trimmings, as he leans forward, hands on the wall of the dueling pit in front of him, calling out "What happened to us?", "Where is our honor?". A smaller speechbubble to the side contains the words "Honor is dead". The panel to the right depicts Dalinar looking to the side to see who gave that cynical commentary. Kaladin stands there not far behind him, also in captain's uniform holding his spear and looking very grim. The next row has two smaller and on medium sized panel, they all show Kaladin from the side in profile – as Dalinar would see him. He inhales like he is fortifying himself for what comes next. On the exhale he looks down into the arena with mix of resignation and determination and utters the words "But I'll see what I can do." The speechbubble for it is already in the next panel, in which Kaladin is gazing towards us with a mournful expression as he says "If this goes poorly, take care of my men."

The third and fourth row are both each one long horizontal panel. The third row shows Kaladin as he vaults himself over the wall in the foreground. Dalinar stares at him seeming very shocked. The panel in the last row is a top down view into the arena. Kaladin stands in front of six people, four of them Shardbearers in full plate all now turning towards him. On the far left is Relis in his black plate holding a big shardblade. Adolin kneels next to him in the sand of the arena holding his broken shoulder. To his right stand Elis with a shardhammer in a grey plate, then Adrobar in a orange one with a blade. Further to the right is Jakamav in his green plate and the king's blade, Renarin standing blade- and plateless next to him.