Float like a butterfly

super upset about anime drama since 2002

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Previously : attack-on-spoon

I have an about page under links to shit. Fair warning, I don't post all Rei all the time, I just really love him.

aristocratslayer:

i like to call this work of art i didnt start working on a ten page research paper until the night before it was due

nerdy-is-super-cool:

dunwall:

queenmegmasters:

petition for vatican city to compete in eurovision

live from eurovision 2015!!!!!!! no, your eyes are not betraying you that IS INDEED THE POPE BREAKDANCING

pope francis more like dope dances

cherubking:

im going to miss quizilla

breenwolf:

[reads summary of fic] THIS IS WHAT I WANT
[reads first 10 words of fic] this is not what i want

[Baldrick voice] I have a cunning plan.

here i will help you send subliminal messages
Anonym

Alright shades let’s do this

USUK, #3. Oh gosh oh please 😗
reiugazaki

potatobastard:

teacher/student au

"Alright, if you’ll turn to page 74, we’ll discuss the primary catalysts of the second world war—"  Dr. Alfred F. Jones stood in front of his class, gaze sweeping up and down the curved rows rising up around him.  The lecture hall, though massive, was only half filled, with most of the students scattered along the back few rows where they could thumb through their phone contacts or rest their heads without Dr. Jones noticing.  

He noticed.

Still, he reached over to pop the lid from a few markers and squeaked through a few key phrases on the white board looming over him.  He punctuated the importance of each with a loud rap of his knuckles as he barked through the remaining five minutes of his lecture.  Chuckling uneasily, he dismissed his class, cheeks burning at how quickly they lunged from their seats toward the door in the back.

"Well at least they’re enthusiastic about something.”

Alfred turned sharply.  One of his older students—twice his age, he sometimes assumed—still sat pouring over his notes with a little sarcastic roll of his eyes, as he raised one brow.  

As Alfred was sometimes prone to do, he allowed words to tumble out before his filter could catch them.  ”Aren’t you a little old for undergrad studies?”  He clamped his mouth shut and started shoving a few notebooks into his bag.

Arthur Kirkland scoffed a little.  ”And aren’t you a little young to be a professor?”

Alfred shrugged and grumbled something like “I’m not as young as I look, you know…”

The scuff of shoes on carpet drew closer.  Arthur stood only a few inches shorter.  ”And I’m not as old as you’d like to believe,” he said, eyes flashing though his lips curled into a wry little smile.  ”And it’s always better late than never, yes?”

Throat suddenly dry, Alfred swallowed.  ”I suppose that’s—that’s—”  His eyes flickered down to Arthur’s lips.  Startled he wrenched them away and turned to finish packing up.  

Arthur’s laugh was more a mix between a sigh and a snort.  ”I actually have a degree.  Several.  Areas different than this, but I’m interested in gaining knowledge of all sorts for as long as I can.”  His own gaze trailed to Alfred’s ass while the other was still turned.  His lips tilted into a little smirk.

Intrigued, Alfred glanced back.  ”Oh—really?”

Arthur nodded.  There was something predatory in his eyes.

Oh my gosh I love it

Do you ever really love a certain author’s style and you want them to write you fanfiction for a fandom they know nothing about? It’s a struggle, lemme tell you.

viwan themes