Yesterday was Yoosung’s birthday!! Happy birthday・:*+.\(( °ω° ))/.:+
昨日はユソンのお誕生日だったのでツイッタの方でもお祝いしました!!タンブルァはまだ使い慣れなくてな…_(:3」∠)_
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izzy's playlists!

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@hemmingwaytiger
Yesterday was Yoosung’s birthday!! Happy birthday・:*+.\(( °ω° ))/.:+
昨日はユソンのお誕生日だったのでツイッタの方でもお祝いしました!!タンブルァはまだ使い慣れなくてな…_(:3」∠)_
My students are up to something. They keep coming up to me and handing me pieces of fruit, and when I ask why, they just smile cryptically and say, “Don’t worry about it.”
Like, the apples I get. That’s a teacherly thing to give. But one of them just straight up handed me a grape.
I took a sick day today and sent an email to the first girl to hand me a piece of fruit, asking if I could have an explanation now.
Her response was to send me this meme:
That clarifies exactly nothing, thanks.
Walked into school today to an email from her saying: “There’s more to come, hope it doesn’t leave you *sour* (you’ll get that later).”
Ominous.
Just before my first class of the day, one of my students came floating in, a black cloak billowing behind her, hood pulled low over her eyes.
“An offering,” she said, handing me a plain white bag with a green ribbon.
Inside is this:
Life gave me a plastic lemon.
WE HAVE AN ANSWER!
Apparently this was the result of a number of my students playing Truth or Dare at a birthday party. I’m not sure which one of them came up with “I dare you to confuse Magistra by handing her a piece of fruit without explanation”, but I 100% approve of any thought process that ends with me getting free food.
Nope
baby lynx breaks out, mama lynx comes to the rescue
GET BACK HERE YOUNG MAN
THE PAW THROUGH THE WIRE
#the universal carer’s emotion: GET BACK HERE
Oh my gosh
These cute dog snapchats will make your day
Ye olde Windows screen savers.
There are probably kids on this website who are so fucking young they’ve never seen these in the wild
tiny doomcookie 90′s me refused to change it from the creepy house. i liked space and mazes well enough, but creepy house
Those pipes were my childhood
I just went back 15 years ago
Our elementary schools had these screensavers. Could never pay attention to the teacher because I was hypnotized by the screensaver.
I remember
after dying god informs you that hell is a myth, and “everyone sins, its ok”. instead the dead are sorted into six “houses of heaven” based on the sins they chose.
We arrived first at the House of Lust. “House” is a misleading term. It was more of a camp, spread over acres and acres of lush forest. There was a white sandy beach (nude, of course) full of copulating couples. There were little cabins sprinkled all along the path, from which orgasmic moans regularly came belting out. Men with six pack abs and women with perky breasts strolled by without even noticing me and God. They only had eyes for each other, tickling and pinching each other with flirtatious giggles.
“What do you think?” God asked as we passed a nineteen-way taking place in a pool of champagne. Little cherubs flitted overhead armed with mops and cleaning supplies, thankfully. “Lust is our most popular sin.” I eyed the supermodel-like figures of a couple passing nearby, and could easily see why. “You can look however you want. Hell, you can be whatever gender you want. No fetish is too taboo, and no desire can be denied here.”
It was quite tempting, but I wasn’t ready to make a permanent decision here. “Let’s see the others,” I told God.
We carried on to Greed. We passed rows and rows of mansions, each more opulent than the next. Some of them were so large that they would have had enough bed rooms to fit my entire hometown. And so many different styles: one second, we were in a beautiful French vineyard in front of a gorgeous chateau with the Alps in the background. The next second, a warm tropical beach with a modern mansion atop breathtaking cliffs. After that, a ski chalet in Colorado with a roaring fire in a hearth large enough to fit an ox. Each one had various Italian sports cars and Rolls Royces parked in front, with the occasional smattering of boats, helicopters, etc.
“Any material desire you ever wanted,” God explained. “Your own world, where you can have everything. You want the Hope Diamond? You can fly to Washington DC in your own solid gold helicopter and buy it from the Smithsonian. Hell, you can just buy the Smithsonian.”
Also tempting, but I decided to keep looking.
Gluttony was next up. Tables and tables of the very finest foods: beautiful steaks cooked medium rare; butter-poached lobster tail; fresh oysters on a half shell; exotic wines in dusty bottles that had been hiding in the cellars of the world’s finest restaurants. Everyone had a glass of champagne in hand and simply lounged on couches and chairs near the tables, eating endlessly. As soon as the inhabitants took a bite, the food just instantly came back. My mouth watered even watching them.
“In every other House, the food is practically sawdust compared to Gluttony,” God explained. “You haven’t truly experienced heaven until you’ve been to Gluttony.”
I shook my head, and we kept moving.
Sloth was as you’d expect. An endless sea of the softest mattresses, stacked with cushions and pillows that made the story of the princess and the pea seem minimalist. Little angels visited each resident, giving them massages that made them all melt into their blankets.
Wrath was… well, a lot like what I’d expect Hell to be like. Fire, brimstone, whips, torture.. you know, the works. Except here, you weren’t the one being tortured. Every enemy you’d ever made in your real life was now under your thumb. “Lots of people choose their fathers,” God explained. “Lots of grudges against parents in general, you know. But you’re not limited to that. Someone beat you out for a big promotion back on Earth? Take your pound of flesh here.”
Then we arrived at Envy. It looked… well, a lot like home.
“Go on in,” God said, gesturing toward the door. I turned the knob and walked in… and found Emily waiting inside. She ran forward, wrapped her arms around my neck, and planted a kiss right on my lips. “Welcome home, honey.”
I looked back toward God. “Oh, don’t be coy,” he said. “You have no secrets from me. We all know that you were in love with your best friend’s wife.” She didn’t seem to hear him at all; she went back into the hall. “We all know that you just settled for your own wife while secretly pining after her. Well, this is your chance to live happily ever after.”
I peered into the kitchen. Emily was baking something, wearing nothing but an apron. Her curly black hair fell softly over her shoulder as she whisked ingredients. She turned back, noticed I was observing her, and an enthusiastic smile spread across her face.
“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” God whispered in my ear.
I wanted to take it. God damn did I want to take it. But I shook my head.
God seemed puzzled. “You need to make a decision,” he told me.
“I haven’t seen Pride yet.”
He scoffed. “No one ever wants Pride, trust me.”
“Well, I want to see it.”
_________________________
Pride was boring. Just a row of workbenches in a bare white room.
“I don’t get it,” I told God.
“Yeah, no one does,” he answered. “That’s why no one ever chooses it. Doesn’t cavorting in Lust sound better than sitting here building little trinkets for the rest of eternity? Wouldn’t you rather gorge yourself in Gluttony? Or spend time with Emily in Envy?”
I considered the options again. “I pick Pride,” I finally told him.
He narrowed his eyes. “What? Look at it!” He gestured around the room again. There wasn’t much to look at. “Why would you choose this for the rest of time?”
“Because you don’t want me to pick it,” I told him. If he was really God, he’d know what a contrarian I can be. And I knew he was hiding something, trying to pretend like Pride didn’t exist. There was something special about it.
God scowled back. “Fine.” He led me over to one of the workbenches. In the center, there was a black space. A blank, empty void that went on forever. “Here’s your universe,” he said. “You’ve got seven days to get started.” He took his seat at the bench next to me and went back to tinkering in his own world. After a long pause, he finally spoke again: “You know, it might be nice for me to actually have some company for once.”
FUCKING I MEAN.
IT’S LIKE 7AM AND I LOVE GONNA REBLOG SO I CAN READ THIS SHIT AGAIN
i’m 101% sure that this entire line was improv and tom couldn’t help it
original: https://twitter.com/Manda_like_wine/status/977299937963765761
My god this is applicable to so many situations: this is in no way a WE situation.
You’ve seen tail wagging… have you seen body wagging?
cosmeon (cosmog + sylveon!)
@catincootes !!!!
Hilarious Cat Snapchats That Are Im-Paw-Sible Not To Laugh At
(#6 @roscoefats)
it’s-friday.avi
Im not sure what hes trying to do, but Im Concerned.
I have never before seen such a GOOD jig
Hyrulean Travel Posters from Gamer Print
Okay but lets illustrate how much white privileged is involved with this story. The weapons this little demon used to kill Grant Nelson were stolen from Walmart. She walked into Walmart, grabbed a machete and a knife, and then just casually walked out the door without anyone attempting to stop her. You get a box of tampons from Walmart and you don’t have it in a bag, they wanna check your receipt. Becky the Sociopath walked out unchecked with literal weapons.
Then she had time to wait outside for the uber this poor man drove to come pick her up. Then she got in his back seat and stabbed him multiple times, pushed him out onto the street, and stole the car. He was able to tell the police who stabbed him before he died. She then crashes the car and is found by the police hiding behind a tree covered in blood. The police try to gently coerce her into dropping her fucking blood covered knives and when she refuses do they shoot her eight times? Oh noooo Lizzy Borden gets tazed and brought in unharmed.
Like just think about the stories that have come out these past two weeks alone. The unarmed black teenager who were literally murdered based on vague suspicion and this girl actually kills someone and is still standing.
The white girl who stole weapons from Walmart and killed an Uber driver was taken alive.
The white guy who took weapons to a convention and planned to kill Jason David Frank and multiple police officers was taken alive.
The white guy who murdered two men who had tried to defend the Muslim women he was harassing was taken alive.
Don’t tell me police had to kill Tamir Rice or Michael Brown or ANYONE else out of caution or fear for their safety. Not when white people who are legitimate threats, even direct threats to police, are routinely taken alive.