Mangaka Yumeno Sakiko and her (his) assistant crew which comprises Sakura, Mikoshiba, Hori and Wakamatsu.
imagine a horror movie where you’re trapped in your house with a serial killer but all your lights are clappers
so you’re running for your life from this psychopath while both of you are just aggressively clapping the lights on and off
out of all my 3:00 AM ramblings you guys decide to make this one popular
I’ve always liked the whole theory of Gengar being Clefables shadow.
Invertebrate Sleep Habits
© Hine Mizushima
If you ever accidentally do something mildly embarrassing in public just remember that one time I was in the outdoors section of a store and this sweet old lady thanked my friend and I for stepping aside so that she could get to a garden statue, and the clerk helping her said something, and she looked in my direction and said, “but just look at how lovely this sweet angel is” and the clerk smiled and agreed and complimented me and I got kind of bashful and put my hand behind my head and thanked them both and
was talking about an angel statue that I was standing in front of.
Three out of four people walked out of that situation embarrassed, and the old lady was not one of them.
#encyclopaedic entries#i don’t know why i just remembered this????#her eyes kind of narrowed once she realised that we thought she was talking about me and i just kind of#slinked away from that spot ahahahhhh….#MONTHS LATER AND MY EGO IS STILL CRUSHED I WAS JUST LAUGHING AND CRYING OH MY GOD#not that it happens on a regular basis but i’m sort of used to being complimented by strangers????#nOT#BYPASSED FOR ANANIMATE OBJECTS
Because my cousin shared 3 rape experiences she had
And on all three occasions
She was wearing sweats and was brutally beaten
So there goes your excuse
That my tight dress was asking for it
It might have escaped your attention,
But I don’t wake up in the mornings,
And put on a skirt thinking,
Will this get me raped?
I don’t put on a tank top hoping,
Maybe this one will.
Because in school, they teach us that our bodies are offensive.
They pull us from classrooms
Demanding if we have longer shorts,
Or even a sweater,
Reminding us that the boys are distracted,
That the boys go wild for a peeking shoulder,
Or the sight of a sun burned thigh,
Because their education is more important than ours.
Because white men in pressed suits,
Expensive watches hanging from their wrists,
Red faces glinting with arrogance,
Have more say over my body than I do.
Because those same men,
Quoting the Bible and fake statistics,
Have never shed blood,
As a twisted sacrifice for being a woman.
Because those same men,
Have never walked the streets,
Fearing for their lives,
Clinging to keys between their fingers like a lifeline
With pepper spray in their bags,
Ready for someone to feel entitled to their body.
Because when a man says no to us,
It is a fault in OUR character.
It is because we are not
Thin, tan, or perky enough for HIM.
Because when WE say no to a man,
Its still a fault in OUR character,
We are the cold, ruthless bitch,
Saying no to the nice guy,
Who offered to buy us a drink,
And Who complimented our hair.
Because a UCSB entitled nine-teen year old boy,
Can record a video
Of his plans to shoot down all the
“Blond bimbos who denied him his right,”
And then do so,
Only to have his actions excused by the media,
Claiming he was depressed,
Instead of admitting that male entitlement is dangerous.
Because I am done being silenced
And I am done being polite.
I am done sitting by
As a country hypocritically cries
Equality and justice
But doesn’t have equal pay
Lets men make decisions for a woman’s body
And blames the victim for the actions of a rapist.
Because our NO won’t be enough one day.
Because I wasn’t asking for it.
Because “Boys Will Be Boys,” is still an excuse
Because “Not All Men Are Like That,” is still a defense.
Because enough blood has been spilled.
Because I am sixteen years old, and I am so afraid, when I shouldn’t have to be.
robin williams died today.
here is a list of things that robin williams was:
- and sad.
that’s important, the “and sad,” because sometimes sadness can feel like the only thing we are. it can feel all-encompassing. it can feel like the only thing anyone could possibly see, when they look at you: sad. that person is so, so, sad.
but there is always an “and.” we are never just sad. we are never only. we are always and.
we have all known people who were sad, who are sad; some of us are ourselves sad. being sad does not remove the other parts of us, though it can make them harder for us to see. when you are sad, you don’t necessarily feel like you are also funny, and sharp, and clever, and kind.
but you still are. you don’t have to feel like something to be it.
those things are written on your bones, they are woven into the fabric of your skin. sadness can feel so big, so big and overwhelming and complete, even when it is not a directed sadness. maybe especially when it is not a directed sadness, when it’s a depression that has no direct cause and nothing we can name.
sometimes the sadness is too big. people try to cut it out, or starve it out, or drink it down, or drug it silent. if this is you: i’m sorry. if this is you: you are not alone. if this is you: remember that the solution is never to give up, because you do not live in a vacuum. there are people waiting for you. there are films and songs and books and not-sadness waiting for you. i know that you don’t feel like waiting, but wait anyway.
if you need help, ask for it. here’s a link to crisis centers across the globe. if you live in the U.S., this is the national suicide prevention hotline: 1-800-273-8255.
robin williams died today, but the genie didn’t, and mrs. doubtfire didn’t, and peter pan didn’t. sean maquire didn’t, and professor philip brainard didn’t, and alan parrish didn’t. batty koda didn’t. john keating didn’t. you didn’t.
don’t.i wasn’t going to reblog anymore on this but i read this and i feel like there are probably some folks on here who might need to read it, too.
Nozaki and Mikoshiba’s new OTP: Dating-sim protagonist x his nice-guy friend Tomoda
He is a builder with bricks of moonlight.
He knows the secret places of the earth.
He washes the sleep from the eyes of the souls.
He lets them look on beauty.
He lets them tell him they hate him.
In the mornings, I gather berries and apples.
I scrub his back with rind.
I weave spider-spit, eyelash.
He talks in his sleep: pudding, fire, discus,
the things he misses.
He breathes, Your body is my orchard.
I am undulating grass.
I am a field of wheat he parts with his fingers.
Poppies bloom in my veins.
When he kisses me, he tastes pomegranate.
The night crawls nearer.
The moans of the dead roll and swell.
Mother, we are well.
that one character you would literally die for to protect if they were real