I assume I need no introduction

history is much like an endless waltz; the three beats of war, peace and revolution continue on forever. 

Heero, to his classmates: I don’t know how much you all know about space, but for me, I’m a genius. Ask me anything about space.

Classmate: Is it big?

a lifted truck

a lowered truck

those slanted wheels

vs the google default lyrics

VERY ODD. If you like women to be covered up and low key, why wouldn’t you just go for the women that like being covered up and low key??? Why would you purposely go after a woman that is the complete opposite, ask her to be your significant other, then try to change her to fit what you want????

Joe DiMaggio married Marilyn Monroe and then wanted her to quit her career and be a housewife. He became enraged when she did this shoot and used it as an excuse to beat her so badly that concerned hotel patrons called the police and her makeup artist had to cover the bruises with makeup the next day.

When asked about that night later on, Joe DiMaggio said, “Things got out of hand, I admit it. But she pissed me off so much. She didn’t care what I thought about anything, she just wanted to do what she wanted to do.”

Arthur Miller married her, and then constantly picked on her and complained in his journals that she embarrassed him, that she was unintelligent, self-centered, a child, a spoiled brat, and a bitch.

our tiny dancer ✨💖💞

But I always sort of wished the other senshi got the same thing. All of them living, inhabiting these forms, for hundreds of years, the power of their sailor crystals slowly seeping out in subtle ways. 

Rei’s is the most dramatic. It takes time, at first, for anybody to notice the strands of red among the black. But then it is all anybody can see. The reds and oranges, constantly changing and evolving like a flickering flame. You can mark the season by how hot her hair seems to burn. 

Ami’s is subtle. Her hair is already blue like the water she controls. But the tips turn to an icy white. Always the tips, no matter how recently she’s cut it. She will always be frosty around the edges. 

Makoto is distraught the day that she finds a patch of mossy green. The boxes of drug store hair dye can never hope to match the rosy chestnut of her childhood hair, but it makes her feel a little better. Years go by before she notices roots the color of emeralds, and begins to reconsider covering it. 

Minako will never fail to show off her golden tresses. Like Rumpelstiltskin himself spun each individual thread that hangs from her head. She’s reluctant to confess how heavy it is, how sometimes she misses being able to tie it up or style it like normal hair. 

Hotaru, in truth, thinks the violet makes her look less deathly than the stark black. It’s almost as though her sailor crystal is reminding her of life, of the world and the girl that are allowed to continue living rather than always, always ending. 

Haruka’s pale hair might be mistaken for a warmer version of Serenity’s. But there is a fineness to it, an insubstantial quality, like a soft breeze. 

Michiru’s hair was always like the ocean. Now there is simply more of it. It would grow to be as long as Serenity’s if she let it, waves upon waves of aquamarine. The shade of blue-green never seems to be quite the same from one day to the next.