Women firefighters douse flames during the Pearl Harbor attack.
Oh hay look women of colour were an integral part of the ‘cool’ part of history too, how about that. They were like. Doing stuff that supposedly only heroic white dudes had done. That makes women valid participants in collective history now, right? Right? This is in high school history books now, right? Right? Huh?
It reminds me of that one famous painting/sculpture of the soldiers raising the flag
I like this one a lot better.
dont u dare treat ur animals like shit in front of me i will end ur life son
"Can I do a different pose this time?"
I’m not gonna let y’all sleep on this
*points at romance* what the FUCK is that
i wonder if there is anyone nervous to talk to me.
playing a game for nostalgia but realizing you’re going to have to fight that boss again
how much money did this girl spend on custom t-shirts in the name of stop-motion anime titties
Well there are 25 frames in this GIF. Meaning she bought well… 25 shirts. Assuming the shirts cost $15.95 each, she spent $398.75. Not including shipping. So with shipping she spent over $400 to make a stop motion of anime titties.
You’re doing god’s work, soldier. You are a true beacon of hope in the world of anime titties.
okokokokok but ive been thinking way too much about the wiki page on tsukki and yama because theyre in class 4, right?
according to the wiki, in karasuno classes 4 and 5 are the college prep classes.
neato. peeps probs think that tsukki is the brains, and yama is riding his tail into the…
Title: Showcase Heart
A/N: Super short angsty drabble because the idea hit me like a wrecking ball and wouldn’t shut up. It is angst. So much angst. Consider yourself warned. TvT
Don’t kill me—-
In a world where your soulmate’s first words to you are printed on your wrist, Yamaguchi hides his beneath a black wristband.
My, my, how the time flies when I’m heavily distracted by the world. Sorry for the slightly longer wait, but hey, Part 7 might make you folks happy. We’re kicking up the levels, man (don’t get too excited, these kids are dumb).
Start from the beginning or pick up where you left off:
Despite what most people thought, Momotarou Mikoshiba and Aiichirou Nitori had a good amount of similarities, the kind of traits you’d only discover by living with someone. They were both clutter kings, and if it weren’t for the occasional hounding from clean-freak Rin Matsuoka, their reign amongst the valleys of their dirty laundry, mountains of junk, and textbook islands scattered across the floor would hold strong until graduation. Perhaps no one had ever told them the ole saying of an organized room makes for an organized mind, because as every upperclassman who had ever had to deal with these two would know, these kids were neurotically charged.
It was as if the universe had aligned the planets to put two reckless, accident-prone dorks in the same dorm room in the hopes that they would somehow figure out how to survive. Nitori was more responsible, but forgetful. Momo remembered everything, but didn’t do shit. They had two first aid kits because on the weekly, sometimes even on the daily, one of them would get hurt, all with the grace of flopping fishes hitting the deck. Momo always remembered to eat, unlike Nitori, but Nitori remembered the five food groups, unlike Momo, who more than once claimed the Triple-Cheeseburger with the works was the prime example of all five food groups and there was nothing Nitori could say to convince him otherwise. For what it was worth, these kids grew closer to each other just on the simple fact that they found someone just as bad at living as they were, and isn’t that how most friendships start anyhow?
But perhaps the biggest similarity these two shared was the daily Russian roulette of whether they were morning people.
Both Nitori and Momo had a 50-50 shot of waking up ready for the day or dreading the sun’s existence, and more often than not, whoever won the morning battle would have to drag the other out of bed—no soldier left behind. Mornings when neither of them wanted to wake up would only bring brief moral struggles as Nitori would mumble we should go to school, Momo-kun, and Momo would mutter back we’re already in school, we live here, and that was that. Back to bed. That is, until Rin-senpai, who knew all too well about Nitori’s morning gambles, would slam open the door and force the two to go to class.
So, knowing they cherished their slumbers, you could see how Sunday mornings were sacred, and you could understand why when Nitori rolled over in bed and found an eager Momo crouched down, peering into his sleepy soul, he sighed. One would think he’d scream, but that’s assuming Nitori had never woken up to Momo inches away from his face before ready to scheme the world, and that’d just be a lie, wouldn’t it.
“Wakey wakey, senpai,” Momo cooed, poking at Nitori’s nose.
“Not yet,” Nitori groaned, tucking his head under the covers.
“No, no, no,” Momo said, tugging with Nitori for the sheets. “You promised we’d go shopping first thing in the morning if I did my homework, Nitori-senpai, and I did, so wake up!”
Yanking the covers off his senpai, Momo snickered at him as he curled up into a fetal position, shivering from the sudden wisp of breeze tickling his bare limbs. Days when Momo was the morning person on duty were particularly fun because all he had to do to wake up Nitori was pull out his beloved Pyunsuke in a jar and sing, “Oh, Pyuuuuuunsuke~! Nitori-senpai wants to say good moooorning to you~!”
These were the days Nitori vaguely hated Momotarou.
“Why can’t I say good morning with Pyunsuke still in the jar?” Nitori whined, tucking his head under his pillow.
“But who could resist such a cute face?” Momo said, delicately pulling Pyunsuke out of his jar with his fingers. He slipped the little insect underneath Nitori’s pillow. “Look at him!”
“I don’t—waahhh, no!” Nitori jumped backwards so fast you could hear the onomatopoeic slam of his back hitting the wall as he inched his knees and feet closer to him to get away from Momo’s prized stag beetle, and he yelled, “He doesn’t have a face!”
Momo gasped, and held Pyunsuke up to his heart.
“You take that back.”
Nitori remembered the days when the loudest his mornings ever got was when Rin’s alarm clock went off, and now here he was having to apologize to an insect.
And so began Sunday.