bucketload

Because some people don’t seem to get it: when I say “I don’t trust men I don’t know” I don’t mean “I hate those little babies with Y chromosomes, they are Bad” what I mean is “I don’t trust our society to raise good men at a ratio I find acceptable.” Have you SEEN pop culture? Have you seen gamer culture? Have you seen the peer pressure boys undergo? Have you seen an Axe ad, like, ever? Media doesn’t just bounce off of developing minds. Someone is consuming these messages in bucketloads. This stuff sells. Misogyny sells. Yeah, some dudes overcome it or aren’t as susceptible to it. But how many? I’d wager less than half. So when I say “I don’t trust men,” when you need to pass a sort of clearance stage before I am comfortable with you, it’s like I need to pull out my meter that detects radiation levels except the radiation is misogyny and if you have saturated yourself in it I want to keep that shit away from me. What is so hard to accept about this?

6

Ben & Sophie high five each other & hold hands at Wimbledon final, July 10 2016

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Touhou 14   (Dullahan Under the Willows)

—English fanlyrics—

 

“Say…  You know what the difference is, between you and me?”

 

Start the race, at a ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴘᴀᴄᴇ.
She’s a ʀᴇᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴄᴀsᴇ, you’ll see… ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ғᴀᴄᴇ.

Trust in her, though you can’t be sure.
When it’s all a blur, just go… ʀɪɢʜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴜɢᴜʟᴀʀ.

 

(Oh, you don’t see…)

(You don’t know me…)

 

Tell me your story: I want all the ɢᴏʀɪᴇsᴛ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs.
Who should be keeping your secrets but somebody like you?
Try to rely on your senses when everything else fails;
Never you mind the invisible waitin’ to strike you…

 

Something in the air, under the shadow of the trees tonight.

Bracing for a scare… because the legend may be true.

If it’s more than you can bear, then take the ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғғ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀs–

Hearin’ what you wanna hear:

    “There’s no need to worry, ‘cause ɪ'ʟʟ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴍʏ ᴇʏᴇs ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ.”

 

Iᴛ’s ɴᴏᴛ sᴜᴄʜ ᴀ sᴛʀᴇᴛᴄʜ to be asking a friend to be sᴛɪᴄᴋɪɴ’ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ.
Stickin’ together is better, at least till the deed’s done. 
Tᴡᴏ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴏɴᴇ, if you’re lucky, but check it out:
Get to a dozen, you start to think, ᴡʜᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴏɴᴇ?

 

All the unlikeliest folks will ʙᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅɪɴ’ ғᴏʀ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ɴᴏᴡ.
Thinkin’ you’re free from the pressure is totally nervy.
Somebody out there is itchin’ for burstin’ your bubble now.
Before you know it then, everything’s ᴛᴏᴘsʏ-ᴛᴜʀᴠʏ.

 

Something is amiss, under the shadow of the trees tonight.

Ignorance is bliss… but don’t you really want to see?

So you’re caught up in a twist, in desperation, searching out the threat–

Wanna secret? Let me tell ya:

    ǫᴜɪᴛ ʀᴜʙʙᴇʀɴᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ. You’d best keep your eyes on me.

 

“Some people need to learn to use their head.  Use it or lose it!”

 

Fear the worst, and your fate’s been cursed.
Though your heart might burst, you can dive… ʜᴇᴀᴅғɪʀsᴛ.

You can’t blame her; it can’t be plainer.
If it sounds insane, it is… ɪᴛ’s ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟ ɴᴏ-ʙʀᴀɪɴᴇʀ.

 

(What’s that feeling?)

(ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ-ᴅᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ…)

 

Same way you wish you would disappear, blend on into the crowds,
Someway you wish you were standin’ so they understand you.
Coming or going, you don’t even know; your ʜᴇᴀᴅ’s ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏᴜᴅs:
Can’t do a thing at a moment like that… or can you?

 

Sitting on the fence, under the shadow of the trees tonight.

Have a little sense… you’re gonna have to pick a side.

That’s some sugary pretense, believin’ you can have it all–

But that’s being ᴛᴡᴏ-ғᴀᴄᴇᴅ!

    Come on down; you’re ᴜᴘ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜɪɢʜ ʜᴏʀsᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴ’ ᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ʀɪᴅᴇ.

 

That sneaking suspicion is no superstition; it’s gonna be your loss.
Open your mouth for a scream, and they’re ready to shut it.
Know what it’s like when you struggle with getting your ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴀᴄʀᴏss?
Thinkin’ you’re sharp– ʙᴜᴛ ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ’s ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴄᴜᴛ ɪᴛ!

 

Tell me your story: I want all the ɢᴏʀɪᴇsᴛ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs.
Maybe too many, that’s plenty already about you.
Try to rely on your senses when everything else fails;
More you believe it, the deeper the blade’s gonna run through…

 

Things are getting tense, under the willows in the ᴅᴇᴀᴅ of night.

Missing all the hints… there’s only one more left to find.

We’ve been waiting in suspense, now take a breath and get it overwith–

If you don’t wake up

   to see the nightmare you’re livin’, you might even ʟᴏsᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ.

 

“The difference is…… Í̵͎͙̖̯͉̭͙̣͢ͅ'̷͍͎v̯͎̗̖̝͘ͅe̢̺̥͉̮̲̪̙ ̢̭͇́a̛̠̝͙͖ḷ̨͍̕r̫̦̠̘͍͖̣͚̳͜͞e̵̡̲͚̘̜̼̞a̦̹͍̱ḍ̦̭̤̹̞̠͜y̝̱̳̜̻͡ ̵͍̰̪̝̩́l̢̙͎o̴̵̲̥͕ͅs͓̫̖͓ͅț̗̲̘̰̠͈ ̲̝̗͇̗̞̥̦͘̕ͅì̡̗͖̯t̻͍͞.̧̝͇̣̲͖ ̶̡͉̹̼͕̠̫͕̤̦̀

 

  • Media: woah WOAH huge scoop
  • Tumblr: what?
  • Media: Sherlock is gay!!!11
  • Tumblr: ...
  • Tumblr: ye-es.... and....?
  • Media: also JOHN IS BISEXUAL omg
  • Tumblr: err
  • Tumblr: did you not SEE the show?
  • Tumblr: the very FIRST episode??
  • Media: OH MY GOD JOHN AND SHERLOCK ARE IN LOVE
  • Media: THIS IS TOTALLY UNEXPECTED
  • Tumblr: ok hun, I'll just sit myself here while you freak out, come back when you're calmed down and ready to discuss red pants and toplock vs bottomlock

fiat justitia ruat caelum, matt murdock(/foggy nelson), daredevil

i. Justice, when she comes to him, is a woman. 

First, she is the nuns at his orphanage, the harried social worker who spares him a rare smile which he can, of course, not see, but can hear in her voice, the older girls who tell him when to shut up, shut up, shut up, because they are the forgotten, the unwanted, the-very-literally-silent-sufferers. The women are kind and they are careful, and their justice is brief and costly. Later, she will be Karen, and Claire, will be the women who die and the women who live, and he tries not to question it, why his model for justice is a woman, why his model for victim is also. Perhaps it is easier. He is neither arbiter, nor victim, when of course, his whole life, he’s been both. 

(Victim, longer than arbiter. Victim, until victim no more, but.)

He can’t remember ever seeing the statue of Lady Justice before any New York courthouse, before the accident, but it doesn’t matter. The Lord appoints his saints. It is only a little slip into blasphemy, to give his model for the Virgin, in the quiet sanctuary of his own mind, scales, a sword. The irony is, of course, never lost on him, but he’s not justice.

He’s just blind.

ii. Foggy Nelson is not a woman, and therein lies the problem.

Oh, he knew before Foggy, therein lying another problem. Matt was normal until he wasn’t, invisible, until he wasn’t, but that’s not how life works and it’s not how this story goes. There was something inside him, deep beneath the devil, blood-deep and bone-deep, marking him as never normal, never right. He prays about it because he does not understand it, his vision of a loving god jarring with the force of it, why me why me why me. He comes to terms with the blindness long before– the other, which is what he takes to calling it: The Other Thing. He hates knowing, inescapable, that he would never have been normal. He would never have been right. The original of his own Original Sin. Matt Murdock likes boys, like that. So, for once, he takes the coward’s way out, and ignores it. 

The Murdock boys, they got the devil in them. But not like this. Oh, he prays, not like this.

iii. Justice has more than one face, not that it means shit to him.

The years roll together, and Foggy’s heartbeat becomes the soundtrack to his life. Foggy’s bright laugh wakes him in the mornings, and his breathing lulls him to sleep at night. He wants Foggy and hates himself, but never Foggy, never ever Foggy, and he chases it, doing the right thing, and he hates himself and he he hates himself and life goes on, because that’s what life does. He hates himself and he keeps getting up and getting up and getting up, because that’s what his life is. He hears their voices, the people who need him, and he forces himself to be the man who he ought to be, the man who can be the man these people need. As a rare indulgence, he thinks of Foggy, but does not let himself linger. Perhaps this is penance for his sins. 

And by now, that’s one long goddamn list. 

iv. “Were you ever really blind?” asks Foggy, and Matt wants to throw up.

This is– this is. In its own way, this is justice, this is Matt getting what he deserves. He feels the disgust in Foggy’s voice like it’s physical pain, and given that he’s going to be pissing blood for at least a week, that takes some doing. He doesn’t have the words to tell him because he never has, language not built for this, for standing so outside the realm of human experience it almost transcends. (Not, of course, that he would ever consider himself transcendent.) He doesn’t have the words because the words don’t exist, and he could live a thousand lifetimes and still be left grasping at air. But it’s not fair, it’s so, so, so not fair, and Foggy deserves to understand, and Matt– Matt deserves this. All of this pain, the splitting ache in his chest and the tears in his eyes and this feeling of the roof caving in on top of him. That’s fair. In the pursuit of his brand of justice, that’s fair.

Fair is not the same as just. Matt is, just barely, beginning to learn to tell the difference. 

v. “You’re doing what you can,” Foggy tells him, on what is probably a dark night, and most certainly a cold one. One of Matt’s ribs is broken and he hasn’t slept more than three hours a night in a week. He thinks Foggy is understanding better than he ever has before, because Foggy has taken up boxing and keeps a gun inside his drywall and he’s becoming a person Matt never wanted him to be, a little more ruthless, a little more mean, living with Matt’s secret. Matt loves him regardless because he’ll love him forever, whoever he becomes, and anyway, even Foggy’s cruelty is kind.

“Just keep coming back to me,” says Foggy, and Matt could kiss him then, he could, but that’s not fair, because one of these nights Matt will come back to him in a bodybag and it’s already bad enough. It wouldn’t be fair. It’s unfair enough as it is. Matt Murdock, finally finding the sin he won’t commit in the name of justice. Matt Murdock, never quite falling out of love. 

“I promise,” says Matt, and Foggy isn’t the one who hears heartbeats, can’t catch the lie. 

Wonwoo: Rewards Are Rewarding

Summary: I’m ready to die lmao…. here’s a wonwoo scenario while I’m feeling productive

-Admin Princess


“What are you doing?” He asks, fingers wrapped tightly around his mug as he watches you prance around the kitchen.

“I’m trying to find baking soda.” You mumble. Your mind is too occupied to raise your voice any louder.  He smiles.

“It’s in the cabinet above the stove.” He says.

“You’re a life saver, Wonwoo.” You say as you pull the container out of said cabinet. He sets his tea down and raises his arms in your direction.

Keep reading

5

If Seventeen were YouTubers: Joshua

Acoustic covers? Check. Monthly anime recs? Check. Fanservice by the bucketload? Double check. Most of Josh’s videos will be musically inclined, and you can bet your ass he’ll upload his own original pieces, once he works up the courage, that is.

I feel as though Josh he wouldn’t post as regularly as most, but expect 3-4 videos a month on average.

- Admin M

the problem with writing at 1am on a monday morning pst: all my normal sounding boards are asleep

OTL

You may have noticed a lot of people raving about a little film called MAD MAX: FURY ROAD recently. It seems to be rather popular.

But it’s not just popular like, say, the TRANSFORMERS movies were popular, where critics and creators deride it while audiences continue to lap it up. This is a case where even other storytellers are in awe, where people who create for a living are amazed at what George Miller pulled off.

I think the reason for that is clear, and is a salutary lesson for us all; it’s about vision, and compromise.

MAD MAX: FURY ROAD is a movie made with bucketloads of vision, from one of the most celebrated visionaries in cinema; and unfettered by compromise.

It seems such a simple thing, to most. But any professional creator knows how increasingly rare this combination is. We know how hard it can be to push strange ideas past the money men; how hard executives push back against anything that risks the ROI, and the toxic effect that pushback has on everyone below them.

Any creation made with a singular vision (not necessarily a single visionary; a small group of like-minded creators can all work to the same goal) is inherently risky, and I think creators appreciate that risk more than most. So when we see an example of this creativity unbound by those concerns, we rightly celebrate it; perhaps not for the same reasons as others, but with the same enthusiasm, and perhaps even more.

So here’s to you, George Miller, and the small but important amount of ammunition the success of MAD MAX: FURY ROAD gives to creators everywhere as they face the armies of compromise.

What a lovely day.

i was looking for a pencil case, but what i got was a carry-all extraordinaire [you can find it here]

at first glance, you’ll notice all the pockets

a grand total of 7 pockets on the outside at the front

but wait for it….

three more, even bigger pockets on the back one big enough for a notebook

and then, when you get inside 

a bucketload of space, with, wait for it, four more pockets!!!


This has been an awesome purchase, i can keep my post its, headphones, calculator and everything i need for the day at uni. The pockets on the outside are perfect to hold a couple extra pens for easy access, and there is a perfectly sized pocket for a phone or iPod on the outside. 

I would highly recommend this case if you don’t mind something a bit bulky, and need access to a heap of stuff during the day! 

Also would definitely recommend for optometry, medical or dental students for carrying their supplies for lab practicals 

summary of the past few days in isolation with oras:

  • STEVEN STONE
  • contests
  • the majority of the characters are gay for you
  • lesbians on the abandoned ship
  • more steven stone
  • you get to save the world TWICE
  • wally is now a precious little baby
  • nostalgia by the bucketload
  • literally everyone has the hots for steven stone
  • and you probably do too
  • you’re randomly given lati@s halfway through the game
  • nerds in sweaters vs hot pirates
youtube

Spirited (Season 1 Trailer)

Spirited is an Australian TV show about a socially awkward dentist, Suzy Darling, who left her cheating husband and moved into an apartment where she started seeing the ghost of a dead rock star, Henry Mallet.

Because this show is basically a walking fanfic, Suzy and Henry fall in love.

There is a tragic and angsty romance, but also bucketloads of comedy, mystery, and an ensemble cast of hilarious characters. You can watch the entire show here on google drive, or buy the DVDs here.

Damon and Elena have the most unhealthy relationship on the show. So is this how it’s always going to be? She upsets him and he goes on a killing spree? Katherine is right, that’s a bucketload of emotional pressure on Elena. Damon is an absolute moron who bases his entire existence on the woman he’s in love with at that point. People find his “you’re my life/I can’t live without her” romantic but honestly, it’s kinda obsessive and creepy

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Each year, cities throughout the US scatter 19.5 million tons of salt on icy, snowy roads. A lot of that salt is mined in Ohio, pulled from the remains of massive inland sea that dried up more than 400 million years ago.

Ricky Rhodes photographed this world few ever see. The vast deposit lies 2,000 feet below Lake Erie. Enormous machines drill into great veins of halite, extracting huge chunks that other enormous machines crush into bucketloads of salt that ascend on conveyors. It is a strange world of long tunnels and cavernous spaces illuminated by headlamps and floodlights. 

MORE. Venture Into a Surreal Salt Mine 2,000 Feet Below Lake Erie

Doing some musical analysis and harmony, I’ve actually missed this <3

Still have a bucketload of things to check off my to-do but tonight I’m gonna finish this transposition, finish At The Water’s Edge by Sara Gruen and sleep early 😊😊☺️
Happy Easter to all!

The day before I went on my European trip I made a ‘Gâteau de Bonne Chance’ - a floral cake topped with edible flowers - as a little sign of good things to come. This good luck cake, however, is not for myself, but my best friend Tayla (Jub), who as of today has officially moved to Abu Dhabi to study! She is wonderful, and the most deserving person ever - I’ll miss her bucketloads, but I shall console myself with cake and icecream in the meantime (sob).

This (miniature) three-tier cake has a cinnamon and rosewater batter, dotted with chewy raspberries, and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar before baking. I sandwiched the three layers together

PS Sorry you didn’t get to eat this one, but I’ll make one for you when you come back!

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