ARTIST: Janelle Monae
TITLE: Heroes (David Bowie cover)
15,878 plays


Soooo Janelle Monae covered David Bowie.

ARTIST: kr-y
TITLE: Chicken Nugger Dramatic Reading
ALBUM: French Fried
869,325 plays






It’s only water vapor permeable, and it’s not at all water permeable when you apply multiple coats, a top coat, or a base coat.

You should use the Tuesday In Love water-permeable brands instead! They’re completely water permeable and come in a whole ton of colors!

Here’s a test that a sister did comparing the Inglot brand and the Tuesday In Love brand on a paper towel so you can see for yourself.

please please please spread this around, I would hate for a lot of sisters to have their prayers invalidated because of something like this.

ARTIST: Halia Meguid, Paola Bennet
TITLE: Hoist the Colours
ALBUM: Covers
27,543 plays


Me and the legendary Paola on harmonies did a cover of “Hoist the Colours” from the Pirates of the Caribbean quad(??)rilogy! I got a request to sing this a long time ago, so here it is fulfilled. Enjoy me hearties. xxx 

HOIST THE COLOURS (From “Pirates of the Caribbean”)

The king and his men
stole the queen from her bed,
and bound her in her bones.
The seas be ours, and by the powers;
where we will, we’ll roam.

Yo ho haul together,
hoist the colors high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars;
never shall we die.

Now some have died, and some are alive;
and others sail on the sea.
With the keys to the cage
and the devil to pay,
we lay to the fiddler’s green.

Yo ho haul together,
hoist the colors high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars;
never shall we die.

The bell has been raised
from its watery grave,
hear its sepulchral tone.
A call to all; pay heed the squall,
and turn your sails to home.

Yo ho, haul together,
hoist the colors high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars;
never say we die.

The king and his men
stole the queen from her bed,
and bound her in her bones.
The seas be ours, and by the powers;
where we will; we’ll roam.

64,186 plays




The Fifth Element cosplay by Tanuki-Tinka-Asai


I already miss the weight on my back


Overheard in the halls of Hogwarts [2/4] inspired by x


  (via notbecauseofvictories)


How often have you been shopping and you come across something that is just PERFECT, but does not go up to your size? Over 60% of American women wear a size 14 or above, but only 17% of clothing sold is 14 & up. That is a ridiculous disparity.

Moreover, when some brands move into plus (ahem H&M), they throw their signature trendy looks by the wayside in favor of flowy dark fabrics that they think “work” for plus sizes. That is crap. Plus size women want color, print, and structure. Moreover, we want variety. A group this numerous cannot be a monolith, and since style is such a personal thing, we all have different tastes. I want #plussizeplease to be a way to showcase the demand for styles we’d buy and rock, and all the money brands are forfeiting by refusing to expand their sizes.

So here’s how to use it:

1) Snap a picture of a garment you love but does not come in your size. Include the brand and price, tagging the company if possible. For example, I am in love with this Zara marble print dress. I would have purchased it yesterday if it went above a size L. My tweet would be:

“.@Zara marble print sheath, $59. I’d buy it right now if it came in my size. #plussizeplease”

2) Use it on any social media – Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest… even Facebook supports hashtags now.

3) Tag anything you’d purchase, whether in store or online.

4) Feel free to include the size range it comes in and/or the size you think you’d need. Sizing can be tricky, so this is definitely not required.

5) Tell your friends! I don’t just want this to be a blogger thing – I want all women who wear size 14 and up to show their purchasing power and share styles they love. Let’s be unignorable!

Why I dislike The Fault in Our Stars


So, I’ve been getting a lot of asks over the last few months asking why I strongly dislike TFIOS by John Green as much as I do. And for the most part, all the recent askers have been surprisingly polite, considering the more aggressive ones I’ve received in the past on the subject. Anyway, I’ve answered a bunch of them separately, but I’ve decided to condense all of my theories, opinions and arguments into one succinct post.

Read More



irememberandiloveyou | doktorwer:

#’go and work at Stormcage’ they said #’it’ll be fun’ they said #’how on earth did you get sacked after the first day?’ they said #no but srsly lol #poor guy #first day at job - and he’s guarding river #and she wants to escape#sucks to be you dude #but idk why they keep on trying to keep her in her cell when she intends on leaving it #I mean sure - I can understand that they tried to stop fer from escaping the first time #and the second time #and the sixth and ninth #but after her bazillionth attempt - bazillionth attempt that ended with success #they just should’ve stopped #and help her with packing #’which dress do you want me to pack dr Song? how many guns? condoms?’ #’dress warmly dr Song! and eat regularly’#’see you later doctor Song!’ #doctor who #river song #queen of all the time and space (via your-bespoke-psychopath

#I bet they put him there on purpose#guarding River’s cell is like Stormcage hazing #the other guards are in the control room #watching the monitors and trading bets #somebody brought pretzels and they’re elbowing each other and offering live commentary #DON’T BRING HER THE PHONE MAN IT IS A TRAP #oh god #he’s so dumb #what do you think? is she gonna knock him out? #use the lipstick #aww man I love the lipstick #BEST DISCIPLINARY ACTION EVER #oh oh oh LOOK #SHE IS REACHING FOR THE CLEAVAGE #LIPSTICK IT IS #WIN #OH YOU STUPID BASTARD YOU DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE!!! #did he just TELL her it’s his first day? #GOD DAMMIT MAN ARE YOU STUPID? #DID YOU NOT PAY ATTENTION IN ORIENTATION? #oh - oh - AND THERE HE GOES #you dumbass #Bye River #oh look she’s drawing something #should we sound the alarm? #nahhhh #man I hope she brings us back something good#last time she went to some planet called America and brought us all back these calandars (via areyoumarriedriver)


The Corsair
Lovely man. And occasionally, lovely woman. He had a tattoo on his arm. A snake, eating its own tail. Incorporated it into every regeneration. Said he didn’t feel like himself unless he had the tattoo.














I remember my first eagle ceremony when I turned nine. The first eagle you get is always declawed, which I always thought was pretty inhumane, but it was a good way to ease into caring for the birds. My eagle (named Baldy, because I wasn’t a terribly clever child) was already quite old when I received him (he was a rescue eagle, luckily) but I did have him until I was 16. I don’t know if I was more excited about getting my drivers license that year, or my new eagle! You should have seen the party we had when I got him, too! Grilled hot dogs and fire works and lemonade…. obviously I named my beautiful new eagle Freedom. He’s too big to keep inside anymore, unfortunately, but we’ve got a pretty comfortable roost for him on our apartment’s balcony.

Ah, yes, the eagle ceremony! My Justice and I remember his quite well. (They had just come out with telepathic link transplants when I got him, which is how I know he remembers it.) Our celebration was quite modest, compared to Freedom’s—apple pie under a cloudless summer sky as we signed our Declaration of Interdependence. I still have the inked and talon-pierced document hanging on my wall.

what is this 

Get out Canada

I was so scared during my pet eagle ceremony I almost threw up. But Stonewall Jackson and I have been best friends ever since. My dad and grandfather built a really massive roost behind the house for my eagle and my sisters’ eagles. Stonewall always waits for me when I get home from class since schools are getting so over protective and strict these days and won’t allow eagles indoors. Which just goes to show how much we’re bubble wrapping kids today. Back in the day, if you couldn’t handle a few stitches because you pissed off the wrong kid’s eagle, you had to just man up and learn your lesson!

Ooo, I never miss a chance to tell this story! I had a rather unusual first eagle ceremony. The traditional giant American flag that you wave around to summon your eagle had been severely damaged the week prior (a ceremony that had not gone according to plan, but the child only suffered minor talon wounds. The flag took the brunt of the attack).  Anyway, I couldn’t use the normal flag so we had to search ALL OVER for one suitable for eagle summoning. Unfortunately the stripes weren’t the correct shade of patriotic red so everyone was worried an eagle wouldn’t show up at all.  I had to stand in the middle of that wheat field, the wind creating amber waves out of it, shaking that flag in the air for over three hours.  Everyone was just about to give up when suddenly Patriot appeared out of nowhere!  He came to me so quickly it was like he was apologizing for being late.  And we’ve been together ever since.

Some people think it’s excessive to have two eagles.  But what can I say, I’m a two eagles kind of guy.  Well, I can say, “You must be a terrorist to call me out over my excesses,” but I digress.  We don’t have many open fields around here, so I got Liberty by waving my flag atop a decommissioned WWII aircraft carrier.  I was kicking a couple of boxes of tea into the harbor for good measure, and there she was.  I loved her so much I repeated the process a year later and got young Colbert here.  It’s hard work, raising two eagles, but I have two shoulders, after all.  Besides, I know that the secret to happy and healthy eagles is plenty of Bud Light.

Oh man, the eagle ceremony. I was a weird fucking kid, okay, so I was totally sure that the eagle ceremony wasn’t just going to net me my eagle and deepen the mystical bond between a citizen and their country, I thought I was going to get to turn into an eagle too. So me and my mom and my dad and my little brother are all standing in the old civil war battleground, surrounded by the ghosts of our fallen soldiers, and all and the problem here — it’s not usually a problem because I make sure to shave my beard off twice a day, three times on sundays — was that I am, actually, born on the fourth of July. So it wasn’t just one eagle that showed up, it was pretty much every big old patriotic warbird in Missouri, all flapping around confused and pissed off, their innate senses of direction completely fucked up by the way firecracker babies warp America’s natural system of ley lines. And I was six, so grabbed the flag and ran with it over my shoulders, rippling in the wind, thinking it was going to turn into wings for me and I would go be an eagle with all the other eagles. Instead I just got mobbed by a freaked-out mess of nationalistic avians who all weighed more than I did. I lost half my nose and my whole left arm and spent most of fourth grade in reconstructive surgery getting machine guns welded on to the shattered remains of my ulna. Completely missed my little brother’s eagle ceremony, which I will always regret, but it was all worth it to have met Columbia. I never did turn into an eagle on the outside, but I like to think those long hours in the hospital, feeding her rubbing alcohol and my own blood, have made me an eagle in my heart. 

Dude, I knew the USA was all about the patriotism, but this takes the cake! When I turned 16 I had the usual option of beaver or moose (if you live north you get polar bears too, and I hear PEI does salmon? Though who on earth would want a salmon for a bonded companion I dunno). Anyway considering my options, I did what the rest of my friends did and passed completely. I mean, it’s hard to keep a moose in the city - you’ve got to stable it and they need a lot of space, like a supersized horse really, and while they’re awesome to ride if you don’t have a dogsled, we just couldn’t afford it.

And beavers stink. They’re pretty common since they  work well in apartments, but trust me, sharing an elevator with a Nice Old Man and his soaking wet beaver while he tells you about Arnold III and encourages you to look at his teeth… they loose a lot of their charm.

Man, if I ever move North though, I am going to try for a polar bear. All it takes is a few hundred pounds of seal meat and the ability to sing the anthem in the French/English mix that’s completely alien to anyone outside of Canada with common sense. And just think of the cosplay opportunities! My Korra photoshoots would be epic. That’s the dream right there. I’d torn on names though - it’s a tossup between Trudeau and Victoria.

See, this shit is not fair. Would I have had a pet lion or something if we’d stayed in Kenya longer? And I bet I was in line for a great big jowly British bulldog or possibly a corgi if we hadn’t moved here when I was little. I’d have named the corgi “Footstool” and sat around all day telling people to amuse me. 

No citizenship means no fucking eagle. I have expatriate’s eagle envy. 

Wait, so if I qualify for dual citizenship through my grandfather, for Sweden as well as the US, then I get an eagle and….a bear? Do I get a bear?!

Ah man, Eagle Ceremonies. Good times - mine was really simple, though. My parents originally wanted me to wait until I was ten - they were a little over-protective - but when I was eight Dad started looking at a job in another state, and come on, there’s nothing like a wild Washingtonian eagle bonded in the middle of logging country. So mom pulled out the heirloom Eagle Summoning Flag and we hiked up to where a spectacular cliff overlooked an old gold rush site. It must have taken less than ten minutes of flag waving before Manifest Destiny showed up, and at first I thought I’d done something wrong, because she was really young and didn’t have her adult plumage yet? And what kind of good American gets a golden eagle at their Eagle Ceremony? They’d probably deport you to Mexico on principle. Luckily mom knew enough to point out the differences between a golden and an immature bald, and sure enough, the next year Manifest Destiny grew in the brightest whitest head and tail. She’s been with me ever since.

Damn you Americans and your fancy freedom birds. 

Romanian kids only get enchanted pet ewes. The only thing we use them for is making funeral arrangements.

Nope. Just frightened people ripping each other’s throats out. I really haven’t had to do too much. Take out a bridge here, lay in a little hallucination there, sit back, pop some corn, watch the show. Frankly, you’re really vicious little animals, Sam.