I love sweet girls who are normal ccc:
Anyway, anyone ever just think about what it looks like if you let someone with the power of a Rogue Trader have a GirlyPop TM meltdown (bc u kno, you have the power of a Rogue Trader). Like the screaming on a bathroom floor snapping from being stretched to the limit, endless days of brute forcing through somatic symptoms level of distress, maybe ....
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Oh hey, a Baninjas fan!
I was actually one of the storyboard artists for the comics, and a voice actor for the anime!
-Amelia
YOU
WERE
WHAT.
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「食堂」
普通のカレーで、ええのに、唐揚げを乗せてしまうんです。
目玉焼きとウインナー、これは美味すぎた。白ごはんをガッつきながら、キミを白ごはんにONからのウスターソースかけて美味すぎました。
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LOLAAAA SHOW EVERYBODY THE NEW PICS OF YOUR HUSBAND PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEE
IWILL KILL YOU
Ok.
so babyklok's first show was tonite in houston... ahh
the, the,,, he, hh
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Complacent people, nice people, don’t stare down a squad of armed soldier-police. They don’t walk up to the Dharasana salt works knowing that they’ll be beaten bloody or killed. It’s not a thing you do when you think there’s any other way to make them listen. A person has to be angry about something to get to a point where they’d do that, where they’d wager their very life to hold the line.
Hopepunk isn’t pristine and spotless. Hopepunk is grubby, because that’s what happens when you fight. It’s hard. It’s filthy, sweaty, backbreaking work that never ends. It isn’t pretty, and it isn’t noble, and it isn’t nice, though I expect the natural inclination (and even my own instinctive inclination) is to make it so—to forget the word “radical” in the phrase “radical kindness,” to forget the “punk” part of “hopepunk,” which is really the operative half of the word. To forget the anger of it and let it soften, because softness is what we’re aching for. We want the world to be better—kinder, more just, more merciful. We still yearn toward noblebright, toward an honest and desperate belief that love conquers all. Except, when the other guy has more guns and fewer moral objections than we do, it doesn’t.
We forget, sometimes, that we have knives too in this empire. That we can unsheathe them, that we can turn our blades to the defense of an atom of justice and a molecule of mercy that might not even exist—except . . . except for where we make them exist, in the hands we hold out to each other, and in the shelter we offer even when we ourselves are exhausted, footsore, and filthy, with the wolves at our doors.
There are no heroes and no villains. There are just people. That’s hopepunk: Whether the glass is half full or half empty, what matters is that there’s water in that glass. And that’s something worth defending.
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the feminine urge to roll around on the floor
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i remembered that i can reblog things instead of just staring at posts i like from a distance im sorry for being the way i am idk whats wrong with me i just love content ok
i love images on my cellular device
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Snoop Dogg feat The Doors - Riders on The Storm
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