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123 + 456

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Trucy and her aunties on a Europe shopping trip (they got lost)

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girl with so many dads who is so so cherished

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made while taking breaks from working on assignements

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Skipped a few steps

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I've had this headcanon rattling around in my head for a while

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Bro is tired

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NOT GUILTY

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In the first poetry workshop I ever took my professor said we could write about anything we wanted except for two things: our grandparents and our dogs. She said she had never read a good poem about a dog. I could only remember ever reading one poem about a dog before that point—a poem by Pablo Neruda, from which I only remembered the lines “We walked together on the shores of the sea/ In the lonely winter of Isla Negra.” Four years later I wrote a poem about how when I was a little girl I secretly baptized my dog in the bathtub because I was afraid she wouldn’t get into heaven. “Is this a good poem?” I wondered. The second poetry workshop, our professor made us put a bird in each one of our poems. I thought this was unbelievably stupid. This professor also hated when we wrote about hearts, she said no poet had ever written a good poem in which they mentioned a heart. I started collecting poems about hearts, first to spite her, but then because it became a habit I couldn’t break. The workshop after that, our professor would tell us the same story over and over about how his son had died during a blizzard. He would cry in front of us. He never told us we couldn’t write about anything, but I wrote a lot of poems about snow. At the end of the year he called me into his office and said, “looking at you, one wouldn’t think you’d be a very good writer” and I could feel all the pity inside of me curdling like milk. The fourth poetry workshop I ever took my professor made it clear that poets should not try to engage with popular culture. I noticed that the only poets he assigned were men. I wrote a poem about that scene in Grease 2 where a boy takes his girlfriend to a fallout shelter and tries to get her to have sex with him by tricking her into believing that nuclear war had begun. It was the first poem I ever published. The fifth poetry workshop I ever took our professor railed against the word blood. She thought that no poem should ever have the word “blood” in it, they were bloody enough already. She returned a draft of my poem with the word blood crossed out so hard the paper had torn. When I started teaching poetry workshops I promised myself I would never give my students any rules about what could or couldn’t be in their poems. They all wrote about basketball. I used to tally these poems when I’d go through the stack I had collected at the end of each class. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 poems about basketball. This was Indiana. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I told the class, “for the next assignment no one can write about basketball, please for the love of god choose another topic. Challenge yourselves.” Next time I collected their poems there was one student who had turned in another poem about basketball. I don’t know if he had been absent on the day I told them to choose another topic or if he had just done it to spite me. It’s the only student poem I can still really remember. At the time I wrote down the last lines of that poem in a notebook. “He threw the basketball and it came towards me like the sun”

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mm fulled of eggs

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Skeletor has forever destroyed our ability to come up with voices for skeleton characters.

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They send each other IMs during Peak Lord meetings and make each other giggle.

The other Peak Lords are very jealous SQQ is hiding a smile at something SQH said >_>

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SQH’s message reads: Bro why does QQQ’s makeup look like dat today lmao

They’re being MEAN !! (It’s just for jokesies)

Cumplane for a little art trade with @gludgenbell !!! This was very fun to do :>

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collecting posts of this type

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all these gay girls are like "wow i want a big lady to step on me" but where is the love for short girls stepping on you? short girl intimidating you with her presence and body language alone until you fall over and she steps on you?? short girl taking down a girl who's much taller than her and making her submit??? where's the love for my shadow of the colossus bitches???

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Five years after the fall of Maruki's reality, Akira has a chance encounter with a certain detective.

The first chapter of my new shuake longfic, The Adventure of the Dying Detective, is finally up!! I'm suuuper excited to share this one, a lot of it is pre-written and each chapter will be accompanied by art! I hope you will check it out, it would mean a lot <3

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washed up gun from lake michigan

via coravioletwalters