Okay but this cracks me the fuck up because like.
- Yato has a twitter
- He has ONE FOLLOWER on twitter and it’s Hiyori
- Did Hiyori follow him on twitter out of pity or for some other reason
- He took a selfie
- His selfie got him another follower like one person thought he was super pretty and followed him because of that selfie
- He CRIED when he got another follower he was so happy. Like how is he going to react when he actually starts getting worshippers?
- He thinks he’s hot shit but cries when he gets twitter followers.
There are so many things I love about this.
I love yato omg
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just a few images of Kamigami no asobi for the anime that’s airing in spring. ^^—
Clouds are weird yo.
If I ever saw clouds looking like this I don’t know if I’d cry, shit bricks or do both simultaneously.
are clouds an actual thing
The gif of that weather system is called a mesocyclone and it’s normally associated with severe thunderstorms that produce tornados.
I’m scared, someone hold me QAQ—
Before my parents were married, they would exchange love letters. Sometimes in the form of enveloped letters or through warm words written on the backs of photographs. My parents’ correspondence spanned over 6 years, starting from the year 1990, and ending a few years after my birth.
I found their letters a few years ago, dumped in an old box in our garage. And though my parents insisted that I throw them away, I kept them. As you can see, I’ve filed every letter and photograph into a small cardboard box and I’ve even organized them by year.
You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all of this. So, I’ll get to the point.
Today, my parents had a huge falling out. A huge one. A fight full of screaming, throwing heavy objects, hurtful words and black rage that sliced through our home like a jagged knife. They ended their argument with the words I hate you and I don’t want to be with you anymore.
At this point, I took my little brother and sister out of the house and took them to the park where we hung out until our dad came and picked us up. We then spent the rest of the day avoiding home.
But, of course, we eventually ran out of places to hide and had to return. The fighting began again. Overflowing with pitch black anger and hatred. It went on and on, and though I tried to calm things down, my words were tossed aside. At the end of my rope, I went to my trunk and pulled out the box of love letters that I had kept all these years and dumped the letters all over the kitchen table.
The fighting gradually gave in to silence.
Finally, my dad reached over and picked up a stack of the letters.
"You kept these?"
He began taking some of the letters out of their envelopes and reading through them. Eventually, my mom started reading them, too. The silence was finally lifted when my dad started chuckling.
"I can’t believe you kept them."
I didn’t say anything then. They read their letters for a while longer before we re-filed them into the box, and I rushed upstairs to type out this story for you.
I guess what I wanted to say, is that it’s easy to forget things. Like how you fell in love with your husband, the times you enjoyed with your best friends, and the things that made you happy. It’s easy to dismiss those little things as insignificant as the years go by and to go on in life thinking that they don’t matter anymore. But sometimes, holding onto those things isn’t such a waste, after all.
Sometimes a little reminder is all you need.
This made me cry as I also hold something from my dad whom I never get to remember nor live with. I wonder what will his reaction be when we get the chance to meet each other and show him the card?
This brought tears to my eyes QAQ.—