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August 2014
30
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August 2014
30
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unionjworldnews:

Josh peforming at Party At The Proact (08/06/2014) Credits to @CaseyMariee_

unionjworldnews:

Josh peforming at Party At The Proact (08/06/2014) Credits to @CaseyMariee_

August 2014
30

(hi does anyone remember that i exist?)

(i’m sorry i haven’t really been existing much since my school started)

(it’s slightly lonely, though, so hello)

#**   
August 2014
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darkmarxsoul:iflybikes:

When men talk of women and girls in terms of legal/not legal, what they’re really saying is “I already sexually objectify this child and would attempt to fuck her if there were no laws in the way.”

You can’t deny that is fucking scary.

Sometimes there are things that just sort of vaguely seem wrong, but you can’t put your finger on why…until it’s worded like this, and suddenly everything slides into place and you feel like someone punched you in the gut.

August 2014
29
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Top Books of 2014 | Cress by Marissa Meyer

Top Books of 2014 | Cress by Marissa Meyer

August 2014
29
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shout, shout! let it all out.

#psych   
August 2014
29

fun fact: there is technically no way to be sarcastic in written language. sarcasm is a vocal tone that necessitates particular culturally-learned inflections to show meaning. if you are attempting to be sarcastic on the internet through text, a) you’re attempting to be sardonic, not sarcastic, which isn’t my point; my point is b) stop yelling/mocking/etc. people when they interpret your words as genuine. YOU are the one who communicated poorly. if you say something insipid “sarcastically” and then call the 100 people who replied to it “proof that humanity is stupid,” maybe you should back up.

also sarcasm/sardonicism don’t usually add much to a discussion. so… there’s also that.

August 2014
29
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up all night typography + gotta be you
August 2014
29
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August 2014
29
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perkamentus:

mythology meme - three of five otp's: orpheus and eurydice

Through the weightless throng, and the ghosts that had received proper burial, he came to Persephone, and the lord of the shadows, he who rules the joyless kingdom. Then striking the lyre-strings to accompany his words, he sang: ‘O gods of this world, placed below the earth, to which all, who are created mortal, descend; if you allow me, and it is lawful, to set aside the fictions of idle tongues and speak the truth, I have not come here to see dark Tartarus, nor to bind Cerberus, Medusa’s child, with his three necks, and snaky hair. My wife is the cause of my journey. A viper she trod on diffused its venom into her body, and robbed her of her best years. I longed to be able to accept it, and I do not say I have not tried: Love won.

He is a god well known in the world above, though I do not know if it is so here: though I do imagine him to be here, as well, and if the story of that rape in ancient times is not a lie, you also were wedded by Amor. I beg you, by these fearful places, by this immense abyss, and the silence of your vast realms, reverse Eurydice’s swift death. All things are destined to be yours, and though we delay a while, sooner or later we hasten home. Here we are all bound, this is our final abode, and you hold the longest reign over the human race. Eurydice, too, will be yours to command, when she has lived out her fair span of years, to maturity. I ask this benefit as a gift; but, if the fates refuse my wife this kindness, I am determined not to return: you can delight in both our deaths.’

The bloodless spirits wept as he spoke, accompanying his words with the music. Tantalus did not reach for the ever-retreating water: Ixion’s wheel was stilled: the vultures did not pluck at Tityus’s liver: the Belides, the daughters of Danaüs, left their water jars: and you, Sisyphus, perched there, on your rock. Then they say, for the first time, the faces of the Furies were wet with tears, won over by his song: the king of the deep, and his royal bride, could not bear to refuse his prayer, and called for Eurydice.

She was among the recent ghosts, and walked haltingly from her wound. The poet of Rhodope received her, and, at the same time, accepted this condition, that he must not turn his eyes behind him, until he emerged from the vale of Avernus, or the gift would be null and void.

They took the upward path, through the still silence, steep and dark, shadowy with dense fog, drawing near to the threshold of the upper world. Afraid she was no longer there, and eager to see her, the lover turned his eyes. In an instant she dropped back, and he, unhappy man, stretching out his arms to hold her and be held, clutched at nothing but the receding air. Dying a second time, now, there was no complaint to her husband (what, then, could she complain of, except that she had been loved?). She spoke a last ‘farewell’ that, now, scarcely reached his ears, and turned again towards that same place.

Stunned by the double loss of his wife, Orpheus was like that coward who saw Cerberus, the three-headed dog, chained by the central neck, and whose fear vanished with his nature, as stone transformed his body. Or like Olenos, and you, his Lethaea, too proud of your beauty: he wished to be charged with your crime, and seem guilty himself: once wedded hearts, you are now rocks set on moist Mount Ida.

Orpheus wished and prayed, in vain, to cross the Styx again, but the ferryman fended him off. Still, for seven days, he sat there by the shore, neglecting himself and not taking nourishment. Sorrow, troubled thought, and tears were his food. He took himself to lofty Mount Rhodope, and Haemus, swept by the winds, complaining that the gods of Erebus were cruel.

August 2014
29
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I mean, I could write slogans. How hard could it be, right?

August 2014
29
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More whites believe in ghosts than racism.

 - Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, noting how increasingly, many white people will, without any proof, accept the existence of ghosts, but still refuse to acknowledge that structural racism exists without repeated, statistical, detailed and documented evidence —and often not even then (via odinsblog)
August 2014
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#animals   #whales   
August 2014
29
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#animals   #kittens   #batman