Lauren King's Creation Hub

It's about the horrors of colonialism and war and genocide. It's a high school drama. It's a sexy mecha show. there’s titties everywhere the 2006 fan service is absolutely tasteless and egregious. But don't get distracted, this is a show about rebels fighting to overthrow an evil genocidal empire except for when it's about the world’s largest pizza, yes, the world's largest pizza. Sponsored by Pizza Hut. This Show Is Sponsored By Pizza Hut. Major characters will die in devastating ways that you will remember forever. Buy Pizza Hut. The fandom is mostly yaoi of the two male leads but they’re not canonically queer. There are some canonically queer side characters! but watch out! you’ll wish there weren’t! It takes place in the futuristic year of 2017, which is actually in the 1960s if you convert the shows alternate universe calendar into our own.

Its definitely not perfect because the note aggregates are still proving to be a real son of a bitch to fix (if anyone wants to help patch that youre more than welcome) but it should at least preserve the original note count and get rid of the extra note bars. All i could do with page-context injection plus DOM/network monkey-patching

fir‎efox: Install tampermonkey, save this code as Tumblr Unfucker-0.2.0.user.js and import it into that extension. Refresh tumblr and it should work correctly

I don't consider myself to be a violent person by nature, but I'm certainly no pacifist either. My mother raised a daughter that knows how to scream, and that there's no such thing as a 'low blow' if someone is attempting to hurt you. She also gave great advice about lowering your center of gravity in the case of someone trying to pull you away, if possible, and to appeal to people around you directly if you need help.

None of that is relevant, of course, if I am the aggressor. But the advice is nice to have.

To my memory, there are two separate incidents where my use of violence as a tool - a dangerous tool that must not be used without consideration - may have gone against my mother's best intentions.

Tale the first!

I was born barely more than a year before my younger brother. Practically twins, were we! And so, of course, we attended the same primary educational institute, and were privy to each other's daily trials and tribulations.

Thus, I quickly became aware of a lady in my brother's class who had been tormenting his poor, sensitive soul! For is she not approved in the height of a villain, that hath bullied my kinsman?! I could not let this stand!

However, I had been taught well and true by mine mother. Violence is to be resorted to last, and so I planned only to speak with her. Perhaps, if she became aware that her actions were noted by parties outside her own circles - parties that may, perhaps, be inclined to alert those of the Grand Adults - she would cease this foolishness.

Now, I must admit that, due to my young age, my recollection of this tale is unclear, at points. I find myself at a loss when asked how this civil discourse did escalate so quickly. In truth, I say, I do not know.

One moment, we were speaking after school hours, betwixt the schoolhouse and the yellow-marked School Pickup Zone. And the very next - though I insist again I have no memory of how this began - we were circling each other like bitter foes, like beasts! Claws extended, stances low! She was the first to strike, I remember that.

If you will allow me a quick tangent, despite us just now reaching the peak of our tale: It is important to note that at this point in my then-short years, we had not yet identified my need for corrective eyeglasses. As such, my face remained entirely unprotected from whatever onslaught she may have inflicted upon me.

It was for this very reason that her first strike, launched with the ferocity of an alley cat, did shake my so! Her nails - longer than mine, as I had at that time embraced the role of 'tomboy' whilst she had not - would surely have removed my eyes from my skull had I not pulled back! As it were, my quick thinking ensured naught but a scratch on my nose (one which would, in fact, remain visible for some years hence).

And yet the primary effect was not the wound, no. A simple scratch, while already beginning to bleed, did no real harm. However! Knowing her ill intent, her willingness to claw at and attempt to damage my ocular faculties, left me well aware that I was outmatched in the one thing my mother had always advised was crucial in battle: Commitment.

I had committed to many things before - work to be done at home, friendships to be treasured, the oxford comma, the bit - but not yet to maim and be maimed in turn. Though I be not proud of this, I commit also to the truth: I fled that day. I gathered my watching brother, and fled to the office of the administrators, telling them immediately of my plight so that my mother may know where I had taken shelter. She was quick to arrive, and to escort me safely home.

So after such a harrowing tale, can any among you explain why only two days following this perilous misadventure, my own brother would betray me? Would break bread with the enemy, would call her a friend? Would claim misunderstanding, miscommunication, would insist their concord be at an end?!

This vile end - for I will not call such anticlimax a resolution - still has my heart weeping to this very day, Your Gaudness!