#Roto Pots

[krupexindia]

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[elladooscurodelaluna]

12/10

Hace 4 meses decidí no volverlo a ver, no volver a hablarle, no rozarlo ni con la mirada. No es digno de ella.

Pero hoy lo vi, no solo lo vi, lo miré fijamente por un segundo.

No sabía que estaba ahi, fue por accidente, lo juro, pero fue un segundo eterno. El sonrió suavemente y yo no pude ni reaccionar.

Lo que siento ahora no lo puedo evitar, tengo miedo. Tengo miedo porque hoy lo miró mi corazón, no fueron mis ojos, no fue mi cerebro al que obligo a hacer lo que yo quiera, fue mi corazón y ese rebelde no se deja mandar. Así que le tengo miedo, porque a el no le importa nada, el no se acuerda del daño hecho y tampoco piensa en lo que podría pasar si hago lo que quiere. Es necio, ciego y entregado.

¿que hago con el?

¿Sigo dejando que me dé la vida o dejo que me mate?

[threadneedle]

Blur: Les Inrockuptibles (Translation), 1991 | Gorillaz: Rise of the Ogre, 2006

[maxdibert]

Do you think James deserved Lily? I mean she may be bad but she didn't deserve someone as bad as the glorified priviledged abuser

People are not something you “deserve”; people are someone you choose. Lily is not a passive object but an active subject who made a conscious decision about her partner. Whether her partner was better or worse for her doesn’t matter because it was her choice. People who enter relationships voluntarily do so because they actively want to be with the other person.

In other words, women are not trophies to be deserved or won (and neither are men, but they’re almost always represented as the active party in these cases—you get what I mean), but independent individuals who choose one path or another. Whether that path is better or worse is up to the person who chose it.

The idea of “deserving” someone feels very outdated to me—it’s a perspective rooted in the concept of hegemonic romantic love, which I don’t agree with.

By this, I don’t mean that I like James or think he’s a good idea for a partner. Honestly, I’d become a nun before being with someone as awful as him, but that’s just my opinion. As we say in Spain, “siempre hay un roto para un descosido” (there’s always a lid for every pot).

[average-bb-poke-whisperer]

Okay Roto, is there any cool pictures of OgreKiki so people can, kinda, stop tormenting him with the wingull and pot picture? I mean those two are gold but what about something that will strike amazement into people!

Bzzzt this the best photo i got chief

WHERE IN ARCEUS DID YOU EVEM GET THIS???

[eirinstiva]

Raffles and Bunny: Siempre hay un roto para un descosido

Happy Ides of March!!! Today is a good day because autumm is coming to the southern hemisphere, I have a new pocket knife (I call it Brutus) and received my first letter from my new friend Bunny Manders 🐇

I know Raffles is known as el ladrón de guante blanco (the white-collar thief) in Spanish and there's a lot of pastiches as stories or plays made by Spanish authors like Gonzalo Jover and Emilio G. del Castillo. There's an edition in Spanish, part of El Club Diógenes collection by Editorial Valdemar:

... so I'm very excited with this letter!

Poor Bunny Manders, he has lost everything except his honour (yet), and he's a mess:

"I have no people! I was an only child. I came in for everything there was. My one comfort is that they're gone, and will never know."

When depression hits hard, it's a good idea to call a friend and ask for help. Maybe Raffles is the solution

But in his handsome, unmoved face I read my fate and death-warrant; and with every breath I cursed my folly and my cowardice in coming to him at all.

Oh no, Bunny...

Because he had been kind to me at school, when he was captain of the eleven, and I his fag, I had dared to look for kindness from him now; because I was ruined, and he rich enough to play cricket all the summer, and do nothing for the rest of the year, I had fatuously counted on his mercy, his sympathy, his help!

Well, I know that fag means something like "a younger servant" in public schools, there's a power imbalance between them. Apparently Bunny was lucky being Raffles' fag because not all of older students were kind with their fags.

There was as little of mercy as of sympathy in that curling nostril, that rigid jaw, that cold blue eye which never glanced my way. I caught up my hat.

There's some light in your way, Bunny! Oh, wait... Now I understand why there's a warning in this story (suicide)

Nor was this simply because Raffles had the subtle power of making himself irresistible at will. He was beyond comparison the most masterful man whom I have ever known; yet my acquiescence was due to more than the mere subjection of the weaker nature to the stronger.

ಠ_ಠ

I like how Raffles is ready to help him, even when he doesn't have money himself.

Again I see him, leaning back in one of the luxurious chairs with which his room was furnished. I see his indolent, athletic figure; his pale, sharp, clean-shaven features; his curly black hair; his strong, unscrupulous mouth. And again I feel the clear beam of his wonderful eye, cold and luminous as a star, shining into my brain—sifting the very secrets of my heart.

ಠ_ಠ

"I've made such a mess of my own affairs that I trust myself about as little as I'm likely to be trusted by anybody else. Yet I never in my life went back on a friend. I will say that, otherwise perhaps I mightn't be in such a hole to-night."

Oh, no... pobre conejito mío... ಥ_ಥ

"You would stick at nothing for a pal—what?" "At nothing in this world," I was pleased to cry. "Not even at a crime?" said Raffles, smiling."

Bunny... this in dangerous!

"No, not even at that," I declared; "name your crime, and I'm your man."

ಠ_ಠ

So this is the beginning of the criminal duo of Raffles and Bunny. Are they made for each other? Maybe. In a sense of "there's a lid for every pot" or "misery loves company"? I don't know, but both idioms can be translated as siempre hay un roto para un descosido: There's always a broken [thing] for an unstiched [thing].

[jbillinghurst]

Pureroa Forest Trip

Easter, so off to the Pureora forest vai Hamilton and Te Awamutu to visit Denise's sisters. First stop the Hamilton Gardens where an Egyption garden had been added since I was last there.

On then vai Lake Nga Roto and Te Awamutu to the DOC camp at Pureroa.

Nice big camp with only about 4 other campers who appeared to be doing the Timber trail bike ride, which I plan to do part of it one day. It was cold at night like 2 degrees cold, and I knew my gas bottle was getting low. Sure thing at 4.30 in the morning I awoke to a cold van so it was out into the 2 degrees to swap gas bottles. Lesson learnt. Next day I went for a bike ride to the forest lookout finding some old machinery on the way.

Then a short tramp through the Tototara bush track where one gets to acknowledge the massive trees that once covered the country. This forest was saved from milling by protestors in 1978 to enable us to enjoy the magnificent trees.

Many interesting things on this walk including a fern that looked like noodles.

The following day we walked a section of the bike trail. I was expecting a trail like I was used too, wide flat and graveled, but no this trail was narrow and twisting in and out of trees.

The trail passed an old crawler tractor that was used to gather fallen Totara logs and make them into posts and battens for the farming community. It had blown it's engine so was just left in the forest where it stopped to become an attraction on todays trail.

On the way back to camp passed the Easter Bunny having a nap after delivering all those easter eggs.

Next day headed to our next DOC camp at Kakaho. It was a forestry road and some of the pot holes would never see the sun, they were that deep. Passed the center of the North Island found by stringing a cut out map of the North Island to see where it balanced and this was the spot. At this DOC camp we tramped the Rimu walk through more impressive giant trees. This walk was a bit more challenging with many stairs.

But the view of Mount Pureora from the top was worth it.

There was only one other camper here so a very peaceful final night which included tea by the fire. Home the following day, a great trip to see some of those massive trees.

[invoitplast]

Supplier of Roto Moulding Moulds in Chennai

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[ped-lock]

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[nubedechocolate-1]

Te fuiste

fuiste alguien a quien quise mucho, una persona que me enseño lo que es tener un corazon roto pot amar con todo, tal vez no estábamos destinados a ser solo a conocernos pero aun asi estoy feliz de que pasara, porque contigo aprendi cosas que no esperaba, cosas que en toda mi vida no me habian pasado y que bueno que fueron contigo aprendi a valorarme mas, a quereme primero a mi, ojala estuvieras aquí, nunca pude abrazarte y me hubiera gustado hacerlo el que me miraras y yo a ti, tomarte de la mano y poder ver tu sonrisa, pero no se pudo así que cuidate 

[snobgoblin]

Murdoc every single time 2-D gets a girlfriend:

[not-another-archive]

D-Day fic (title undecided)

Storyboard for context (btw I’m calling the guy next to Murdoc on the 4th panel Terry)

“You’re really gonna lug that bloke everywhere, eh?”

“Yes. Required by law.”

“Since when did you start obeying the law?”

“Since I got caught’s when,” Murdoc snapped as he shoved the comatose Stuart into the car. Terry had tagged along, one of his many hooligan friends that seemed to come and go at moment’s notice. Murdoc stared at the one-eyed, blue-haired heap slumped in the back seat. A second passed. Murdoc sat the boy up and daintily placed the limp forearm on the kid’s lap, pleased. Terry scowled. “Get in already, bender,” he muttered. “Bender!?” Murdoc yelped as he slammed the door shut. Once he hopped in the driver’s seat, he pouted and flitted his eyes around, trying to think of a comeback. Suddenly, a smirk crept across his lips. “Say, would a bender be looking to participate in...oh, I dunno, that parking lot with all those loons mucking about, eh? Care to go for a hell of a spin, Terry? Or are you some kind of bender?” Terry’s eyes widened as the greasy animal revved his late father’s jalopy.

“You’re bluffing, now.”

“Nuh-uh!” Murdoc cracked a snaggle-toothed grin, “we’re in Nottingham, mate, we may as well.” He cackled as the beat-up Vauxhall Astra, patched up from the fairly recent crash that bestowed him the unresponsive teen, sputtered its way to the parking lot derby.

By the time they got there it was raining lightly, but that wasn’t stopping anyone. Terry wasn’t too keen on potentially snapping his neck, much to Murdoc’s amusement. He opted to stand and watch while the mop-topped madman tore up the parking lot. Despite Murdoc’s mockery, Terry gave him a big smile and a double thumbs up for luck before stepping out. Murdoc smirked, and a chuckle rolled out of his throat as he fiddled with his cigarette. He tossed it out the window and slammed his foot on the gas. The deafening roar rumbled out of the car, almost drowning out the cheers. He picked up more speed and performed a few donuts, tossing the blue-haired ragdoll, still in the backseat, to-and-fro. Murdoc, however, was having a whale of a time, laughing maniacally and beeping the horn. Eventually, when he’d had his fun, he screeched to a halt next to the crowd, surveying his captive audience, panting and feeling — kind of — alive. They were going wild, waving, whistling, hollering; it’s what he longed for, what he dreamed would meet him onstage one day…

Murdoc was quickly snapped out of his musings with something else that allured him so.

Tits!!! On a lady!!!

A girl had taken her top off to, well, encourage him. And boy, did it ever. Murdoc’s freakishly long tongue lolled out of his maw as he tried to plan his last trick on the spot, the grand finale. He revved the engine once more, to another wave of applause. The speedometer gradually climbed up to around ninety as he spun the car around the lot. With his rearview mirror ravaged with cracks and rendered useless, he turned his head out the window to see if that lady was still offering her “encouragement.”

B-DUM!!!

It hadn’t been so much as two seconds before Murdoc’s car barrelled head-on into a bollard at top speed. There was a deafening crunch of metal twisting, shattered glass, and the smell of rising smoke. The car alarm rang like a cry of agony. Murdoc shrunk in his seat. The impact had left him pretty scraped up, but mostly alright; a bruise or some cuts here and there, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. The very kid he was supposed to look after would beg to differ. Having not been buckled, Stu careened through the windshield and hit the pavement, skidding on his face for what felt like half a mile before his head made a final impact on the curb. Oops.

Almost on cue, the rain seemed to pick up slightly, and the surroundings grew dreary to match the sky. Stuart lay limp on the road, surrounded by bits of broken glass. Murdoc, hands still latched onto the wheel, craned his neck to get a look at him. Moments passed. Despite the blaring alarm and the rain, it felt just as heavy as silence.

Stuart’s fingers twitched.

He lifted his head off the ground.

Painstakingly slow, the boy who was a crumpled, immobile heap mere seconds ago pushed himself off the road. Disoriented, the spindly teen hoisted himself to a shaky standing position. And there he stood, swaying, but there he stood. Murdoc stared, gobsmacked. Then he finally got a good look at the boy’s face. He was missing teeth, he was all bloodied up, but that was barely noticeable compared to what took center stage.

Stuart had no eyes. In their place were two empty, reddish-black voids. Murdoc had bashed one in before, but what were the chances it would happen again?

Now, this was quite a unique look, Murdoc thought as a smile began to stretch across his face. That kid worked in the Keyboard Emporium, didn’t he? He was fervently plotting now, gleefully hunched over the wheel. This was an opportunity he couldn’t miss.

Murdoc stepped out of the wreckage and trotted over to the bizarre-looking fellow.

“Hey!” He waved as he approached the lost-looking lad.

“...Huh?” The further disfigured Stu turned to squint at the small, grayish, greenish, blackish blob.

“...Erm…” Murdoc scratched the back of his head. Perhaps he didn’t plot as well as he thought. “R’you...ok?” He asked, surveying the damage. The younger bloke didn’t respond, staring blankly in a now quite literal sense until he could figure out it was a person he was looking at. He looked at Murdoc, then back at the wreckage, then back at Murdoc, then the car again. Suddenly, his pitch-black eyes widened and his bleeding jaw dropped. “Oh my god!” He warbled, turning back to Murdoc, “did you crash that car?” Murdoc wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to answer that.

“...Yeah.”

“I coulda been killed!”

“Oh, shut up, you-“

“You saved my life, mister!” Enthused, Stuart leaned closer and began twiddling his fingers.

“...Beg your pardon?”

“Not sure why I was on the ground, but if you hadn’t crashed your car, you woulda run me over n’ killed me for certain!”

Murdoc was at a complete loss. At least this idiocy and/or delirium was in his favor.

“Yeah, let’s go with that.”

“What was that, sir?”

“Nuthin’.”

There was a bit of a pause. Stuart observed his now fuzzy surroundings. Murdoc looked at the ground and whistled for a second or two before clearing his throat. “You play keyboard, right?”

“Yeah!” A big, dopey smile spread across Stu’s scraped up face, “I work at Uncle Norman’s Keyboard Emporium. Ever been?”

“Oh yeah. I don’t think they like me very much over there, though.” They chuckled, but only Murdoc knew why it was funny.

“...Why not?” The boy tilted his head. “Not important,” Murdoc made a dismissive gesture, “anyway, erm, I’m forming a band, actually, and I think you’d be a welcome addition.” Stuart’s new eyes tried their hardest to light up. “You really mean it?”

“Sure, sure. I’m certain those… interesting looks of yours would make good frontman material. Definitely draws attention.” Stuart beamed another jacked grin, overjoyed from the pseudo-complement. “Why, thank you, mister! Sign me up! I owe ya for saving me whole life ‘n such.” Bingo. With some disinfectant and patching up, Murdoc would have the perfect face for the band. Other than his own mug, of course. “I sing too,” Stuart added. With a voice like that? “Doubt it,” Murdoc replied curtly. “Well,” he tutted, “no use standing around in this rain. I’ll nick a car and you can clean yourself up at my place.”

“Ok!”

The new recruit was rather complacent watching Murdoc smash a random car’s window and start it up, and soon enough the budding band was on the road. It felt strange for them to both be conscious. Once they were properly introduced and caught up, small talk was made, but it was dull. As frustratingly dull as the former coma patient himself.

“Er… Murdoc… whose car is this again?”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter!”

Similar conversation plagued the car throughout the ride. All the while, Murdoc found it ridiculous that this moron could look so strange and have a name like Stuart. Not if he had anything to say about it.

“We can’t keep calling you Stuart, man.”

“Then call me Stu!”

“No! It’s boring! You need a stage name, looking like that.”

“...StuPot? That’s what they called me in school.”

Murdoc groaned. “Let me do all the thinking, and you can tell me what you like best. C’mon, man, it’ll be cool.”

Murdoc ran through a list of nicknames he thought of on the spot. As Stu dismissed one after another, Murdoc grew exasperated.

“Well, if you don’t like Denthead, Dentrimental, or Dent, Daft, and Beyond, then what?! Come on, those were good!!!”

The boy shook his head, “Too long for me. I like Stuart. It’s easy to remember and quicker to write.”

“I can’t work with that criteria!”

Stu almost rose his shrill voice. “Just keep it simple, please.”

“Ugh, simple’s what we’re trying to avoid!” Murdoc scowled. “Just Dents, then?”

“Does it have to be about the dents in my skull?” Stu whined. “Well, I mean, yeah,” Murdoc retorted. “You have dents in your skull,” he continued, “that’s fuckin’ metal.” Stu nodded slowly. “It’s just a bit on the nose, innit?”

“Then…” Murdoc was damn near out of ideas. “How about… 2-Dents, then? ‘Cos you’ve got two now, don’t you? It’s not just ‘Dents’ and it could be ‘2-D’ for short, yeah? It doesn’t sound bad, even without the implication of brain damage, so there you go.” Stuart mulled it over, nodding slowly, then picking up speed as his bloody face beamed once more. “I actually really like that! That- That’s quite good, innit?” He went so far as to declare, “from now on, I want everyone to call me 2-D!” Murdoc was pleased. “That’s the spirit!” He hollered. “Right then, 2D, this is it. The big one. We’re on the road to stardom, I can feel it. This is gonna be revolutionary, just you wait.”

“Well, no… we’re on the road to your place, remember? If we’re going to stardom we must’ve taken a wrong turn…”

“Well, you see, my place happens to be where stardom is.”

“Wow! No kiddin’!”

The new duo was jovially cruising to Murdoc’s shitty bedsit in high spirits now that everyone had an appropriate title. Still, likely due to 2-D’s lack of brain functionality, it wasn’t long before conversation dissolved to nothingness.

Suddenly Murdoc cussed and banged his fist on the wheel, wide-eyed.

“What happened, Murdoc?” 2-D chirped, craning his neck at the fellow.

Murdoc had one hand on the wheel, one hand rubbing his temples. “We forgot Terry.”

“Who’s Terry?”

Murdoc hesitated, then he sat up, looking straight ahead. “Eh, you’re right, no one important.”

[2dnos]

headcanon: the guys called just called noodle “baby” for the first few weeks because she wouldn’t say anything to them at all and they had to call her something, they never really stopped calling her that as her pet name

[average-bb-poke-whisperer]

Quick Roto! Tell us how Kieran ended up in the jar! There must be a story about that!

Bzzzt he got the pot to put plants in and accidentally dropped a treat in it

Arecus, you're the worst

[scltyscge]

hola a todes! por acá clementine, 21, mexicana. estoy muy emocionada de volver al mundo del rol grupal y tengo muchas ganas de desarrollar a esta nueva muse en tan bonito espacio. debajo del read more les presento a mi chiquita sage moultrie, con un poquito de su historia y algunas relaciones que podría ofrecerles. si son tan amables de iluminar el corazoncito, me pasaré a sus im :] @lereveintro​

sage moultrie, taurina y veintitresañera, es originaria de la ciudad de nueva york. hija de dos arquitectos, vivió una infancia feliz en la gran manzana, hasta que perdió a su padre en un trágico accidente de tránsito. su madre, con el corazón desecho tras despedirse del gran amor de su vida, decidió que la mejor manera de honrarlo era cumpliendo un sueño que habían tenido desde el nacimiento de sage; mudarse a le rêve, el pintoresco pueblo donde pasaron su luna de miel. a sage, gracias a su relajada personalidad y el enorme cariño que le ha tenido siempre a su madre, adaptarse no le costó en absoluto y ahora se autoproclama ‘local’.

visita nueva york una o dos veces al año, pues su familia vive allá. además, de los dieciocho a los veinte años, estudió un programa universitario en la chef academy of new york, donde se tituló como chef profesional.

el sueño de ser chef (específicamente pastelera) se lo inculcó su padre, quien era fanático de los postres. cada domingo, él y sage abordaban el metro de una región a otra, en búsqueda de los pasteles y galletas más deliciosas que pudiesen encontrar.

trabaja en el paraíso, la panadería de la ciudad, pues está ahorrando para abrir su propio local alguna ciudad vecina. le gusta hacer todo tipo de postres y su especialidad son las tartaletas.

su madre trabaja con una importante firma de arquitectos localizada en la ciudad de méxico, por lo que pasa periodos de tiempo allá; en esos periodos, sage vive sola.

tiene tres gatos albinos: rachel, phoebe y mónica. (es fanática de friends)

respecto a su personalidad, es una homebody total. a pesar de ser extrovertida y en general amigable, atesora su tiempo a solas y se muestra un tanto renuente ante la compañía, en especial las multitudes.

es muy leal y espera lo mismo de parte de las personas que reciben su lealtad. tiene muy buena memoria y jamás olvida a aquellos que la han decepcionado; entre sus rasgos negativos encontrarán que es rencorosa e incluso un tanto vengativa. 

su color favorito es el verde y el beige; son colores que siempre intenta incluir en sus outfits. su estilo es totalmente laid-back, unos jeans rotos y una t-shirt son sus mejores amigos.

también es gran amante de la música, tiene su spotify lleno de playlist especificas. sus artistas favoritas son clairo, tame impala y natalia lafourcade.

es un poquito vsco girl, ¿la perdonan?

es abiertamente bisexual

acá les va un datazo: aparte de hacer postres para la panadería el paraíso, vende ricos postres con m*arihuana (obviamente por fuera y de manera discreta)

es un poquito pot head, la verdad

para conexiones estoy abierta a lo que sea pero tengo un par de cosas específicas en mente:  - amistad que terminó mal y hay muchos sentimientos no resueltos - platonic friendship (relación donde hay atracción mutua pero nunca se concreta nada) - clientazos de su segundo negocio ;)  - si hay algún otro new yorker por ahí, amistad de la infancia o de la universidad (aunque no hayan ido en la misma)

[monsewip]

te fuiste

fuiste alguien a quien quise mucho, una persona que me enseño lo que es tener un corazon roto pot amar con todo, tal vez no estábamos destinados a ser solo a conocernos pero aun asi estoy feliz de que pasara, porque contigo aprendi cosas que no esperaba, cosas que en toda mi vida no me habian pasado y que bueno que fueron contigo aprendi a valorarme mas, a quereme primero a mi, ojala estuvieras aquí, nunca pude abrazarte y me hubiera gustado hacerlo el que me miraras y yo a ti, tomarte de la mano y poder ver tu sonrisa, pero no se pudo así que cuidate