we have you now

I’m sick of being alone, when are you coming home?
Just a glimpse of your face
I can remember smelling your hair, I’ll meet you anywhere
Somewhere that no one can retrace
Somewhere where no one will know our faces

The fact that French students still barricade their high schools/university buildings with furniture to protest shit is the True™ les Mis legacy

My country is celebrating 100 years of independence this year and we are also achieving marriage equality on the 1st of March. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate our achievements as a nation than celebrating equality and human rights. Congratulations, Finland, may there be many more victories such as this and may your freedom last a thousand years!

(yes, the Finnish flag appears backwards because she’s waving it around)

3

Take this sinking boat and point it home. We’ve still got time.
Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice. You’ll make it now.

It was cat day today, so this had to be done– Sae-nyan (or would it be Nyan-ran) goes out to make a friend//

Bonus: a mini Yoo-nyan! ☆

“just… please, don’t take the kids. i’ll do a̲͇n̬͚y̬̩̝͇t͇͞h̘̼͖̪i̠͖̝̠̠ng̦͕̤̬͝ͅ.”

chase… the kids are alright. you, however… you’re a puppet.

usnavi needed a lil time to buffer after seeing vanessa in her red dress

A man enters an office supply store. He was a mere mortal seconds before, but as he passes through the door he becomes a customer. His superior gaze drifts across his domain and settles on the cashier. 

“Do you sell stamps?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say,” However-”

“I want one.”

However, we sell them only in sets of ten.”

“But I want one.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I can’t sell you a single stamp.”

“Can’t you just…” He (skillfully) mimicks the act of ripping apart paper. 

Clearly, I have never thought of this. My simple mind grapples with the idea. I realize I am dealing with a genius, and yet, I regretfully inform him, “Sorry. They come on stickersheets, and anyways, the barcode–”

“Well that’s just rubbish,” he informs me. He is right. I realize this now. His genius ignites a spark within me. 

“You are right,” I tell him as I take fifteen sheets of stamps into my hands and begin to tear them apart. I type 0,019 stamps and press a non-existent key on the register. I hold out a quarter of a stamp to the customer (with a smile), but he shakes his head (without a smile). I rip apart all the stamps I can find, desperate to please him, for he has gifted this humble store with his presence. From the pieces, I begin to assemble a perfect, custom-made stamp. It is worth exactly 66,66€. I single-handedly reprogramme not only my cash desk, but the entire system. It can now scan any stamp in (or out of) existence. It is raining stamps. I am smiling.

Two hours later, it is done. Beaming, and covered in the torn remains of hundreds of unfortunate stamps, I hold the perfect stamp out to The Customer. He accepts it. I rejoice. It might just be my high fever and blurry gaze, but I think the right corner of his mouth moved upwards for exactly half a second. I am blessed. 

He licks the stamp and slaps it onto a letter. He wants to lend a pen. I lend him a pen. When he is done, he holds the letter out to me expectantly. He does not say a word, my silent angel, but I can tell what he wants. Thus is our connection. There is nothing, I assure you, nothing I would have rather done than to accept his letter, on my knees, with tears of gratitude streaming down my cheeks… But alas: 

“I want to send the letter,” my dear customer finally says, after the silence has stretched into infinity and back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sir,” I say with a polite smile, brushing stamps off my shoulders, “We don’t accept mail. We only sell stamps.” 

After all, you can’t make exceptions to a well-established rule in the workplace. 

The customer doesn’t bat an eyelash. “That’s okay,” he says with a disarming smile. “I wouldn’t ask the impossible of you.” 

As he turns to walk away, a single tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it off with a stamp that wears his majestic face, hand-stitched by me. 

I don’t tell him there’s a mailbox around the corner.

(That’s not my job.) 

3

When you gain an army of new followers overnight.

The Bubbler / Le Bulleur


Bonus:

When you realize you have nothing new to post because you’ve been on hiatus…

I never thought we’d see the day.

I had hoped, as I’m sure many others had, that one day we might be lucky enough to see it,

but all the same, nothing could have prepared me,


for this.

OH MY FREAKING GOD

GAARA’S TUMMY!

Dead, I am dead, I’m dying, I’m dying. I. am. dead.

(Shippuden Episode 497)