Apr. 28th, 2017

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bane-magnus:

#i laughed harder than i should
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dubiousculturalartifact:

*this* is the Captain America we need to be hearing from right now, not ‘fascism made edgy for plot-twists’
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angryinkeddrunk:

earthboundricochet:

anarchoace:

PHOTOS: Transgender Elders Show Us The Meaning of Survival

In the many years that Jess T. Dugan, a Boston-based trans photographer, has spent capturing images of gender-variant people, she says she’s consistently noticed a striking absence in both art and social sciences: imagery of older trans folks.

“And,” Dugan explains further on her website, “those [representations] that do exist are often one-dimensional.” So Dugan set out to fill this gap, teaming up with social work researcher Vanessa Fabbre since fall 2013 to develop the evocative photo project, “To Survive on This Shore.” In the recently released collection, diverse trans elders ages 50 to 86 are pictured at home or in meaningful spaces, gazing unapologetically into the camera, as if asking the viewer to look deeper into their unique context and life story.

(Full Article)

This is so important. There are never enough visible elderly trans people.

This is so awesome
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stevenrogered:

@ChrisEvans Thrilled to have shared with everyone how much I cried as a child. Thanks @sethmeyers for the therapeutic interview
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maxthecorgs:

Was walking by a grooming salon and saw this amazing sign 👍🏻
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daily-ewan:

Ewan McGregor.
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Photo

Apr. 28th, 2017 02:47 pm
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margotsrobbie:

If You Had To Do A Real Job…What Would You Do?
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Photo

Apr. 28th, 2017 04:27 pm
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stimmyabby:
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alycidebnam:

when u find a girl cover of a song and she didn’t change the pronouns to make it straight
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shiraglassman:

pr1nceshawn:

Dragons Like You Don’t Usually See Them by Brian Kesinger.

These are all amazing and lovely, and got me right in my heart, but that last one–dang. I’m tearing up. That’s just how it is. …אני אוהבת אותך, יצחק …even though you’re fictional 💚🐉
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wilwheaton:

cracked:

20 ‘Sexy’ Ads For Utterly Unsexy Things

This is in the top five most disturbing posts I’ve ever read on Cracked.
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sushinfood:

weloveshortvideos:

dogs are so pure

this dog is literally trying to lie about not digging a hole

i love this dog
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jenndoesnotcare:

breelandwalker:

gayantlers:

swynwraigh:

witchy-woman:

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thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

thesegoddamnpancakes:

dduane:

elocinneem:

superindianslug:

ohmeursault:

false-dawn:

queer-femme-romulan:

evaunit-05:

Irish people; The faeries aren’t real

Irish people; No fucking way will I go in that faerie ring

#look#you don’t go in a fairy ring and you don’t fuck with a stone in the middle of a field#these are just facts#nobody does it#fairies will fuck you up#Ireland#folklore#fairies (Via @false-dawn)

Look, I don’t believe in God, but I will not disrespect the Good Gentlemen of the Hills. That’s just common sense.

Between this and the Icelanders with their elves I do not understand what is going on above the 50th parallel.

My general rule of thumb: you don’t have to believe in everything, but don’t fuck with it, just in case.

^^^ that part

This is truer than true. Especially the Irish part.

Let me tell you what I know about this after living here for nearly thirty years.

This is a modern European country, the home of hot net startups, of Internet giants and (in some places, some very few places) the fastest broadband on Earth. People here live in this century, HARD.

Yet they get nervous about walking up that one hill close to their home after dark, because, you know… stuff happens there.

I know this because Peter and I live next to One Of Those Hills. There are people in our locality who wouldn’t go up our tiny country road on a dark night for love or money. What they make of us being so close to it for so long without harm coming to us, I have no idea. For all I know, it’s ascribed to us being writers (i.e. sort of bards) or mad folk (also in some kind of positive relationship with the Dangerous Side: don’t forget that the root word of “silly”, which used to be English for “crazy”, is the Old English _saelig_, “holy”…) or otherwise somehow weirdly exempt.

And you know what? I’m never going to ask. Because one does not discuss such things. Lest people from outside get the wrong idea about us, about normal modern Irish people living in normal modern Ireland.

You hear about this in whispers, though, in the pub, late at night, when all the tourists have gone to bed or gone away and no one but the locals are around. That hill. That curve in the road. That cold feeling you get in that one place. There is a deep understanding that there is something here older than us, that doesn’t care about us particularly, that (when we obtrude on it) is as willing to kick us in the slats as to let us pass by unmolested.

So you greet the magpies, singly or otherwise. You let stones in the middle of fields be. You apologize to the hawthorn bush when you’re pruning it. If you see something peculiar that cannot be otherwise explained, you are polite to it and pass onward about your business without further comment. And you don’t go on about it afterwards. Because it’s… unwise. Not that you personally know any examples of people who’ve screwed it up, of course. But you don’t meddle, and you learn when to look the other way, not to see, not to hear. Some things have just been here (for various values of “here” and various values of “been”) a lot longer than you have, and will be here still after you’re gone. That’s the way of it. When you hear the story about the idiots who for a prank chainsawed the centuries-old fairy tree a couple of counties over, you say – if asked by a neighbor – exactly what they’re probably thinking: “Poor fuckers. They’re doomed.” And if asked by anybody else you shake your head and say something anodyne about Kids These Days. (While thinking DOOMED all over again, because there are some particularly self-destructive ways to increase entropy.)

Meanwhile, in Iceland: the county council that carelessly knocked a known elf rock off a hillside when repairing a road has had to go dig the rock up from where it got buried during construction, because that road has had the most impossible damn stuff happen to it since that you ever heard of. Doubtless some nice person (maybe they’ll send out for the Priest of Thor or some such) will come along and do a little propitiatory sacrifice of some kind to the alfar, belatedly begging their pardon for the inconvenience.

They’re building the alfar a new temple, too.

Atlantic islands. Faerie: we haz it.

The Southwest is like this in some ways. You don’t go traveling along the highways at night with an empty car seat. Because an empty car seat is an invitation. You stick your luggage, your laptop bag, whatever you got in that seat. Else something best left undiscussed and unnamed (because to discuss it by name is to go ‘AY WE’RE TALKING BOUT YA WE’RE HERE AND ALSO IGNORANT OF WHAT YOU’RE CAPABLE OF’ at the top of your damn lungs at them) will jump in to the car, after which you’re gonna have a bad time.

If you’re out in the woods, you keep constant, consistent count of your party and make sure you know everyone well enough that you can ID them by face alone, lest something imitating a person get at you. They like to insert themselves in the party and just observe before they strike. It’s a game to them. In general you don’t fuck with the weird, you ignore the lights in the sky (no, this isn’t a god damn night vale reference, yes I’m serious) and the woods, you lock up at night and you don’t answer the door for love or money. Whatever or whoever’s knocking ain’t your buddy.

^ So much good advice in this post right here

I live in the south and… you just… don’t go into the woods or fields at night.

Don’t go near big trees in the night

If you live on a farm, don’t look outside the windows at night

I have broken all these rules.

I’ve seen some shit.

If it sounds like your mom, but you didn’t realize your mom is home…. it’s not your mom. Promise.

One walked onto the porch once. Wasn’t fun. But they’re not super keen on guns. Typically bolt when they see one.

You think it’s the neighbor kids.

It’s not the neighbor kids.

Might sound like coyotes but you never really /see/ the coyotes but then wow that one cow was reaaaaaally fucked up this morning. The next night when you hear another one screaming you just turn the tv up a little more. Maybe fire a gun in the air but you don’t go after it. If it is coyotes then it’s probably a pack and you seriously don’t want to fuck with that and if it’s the other thing you seriously REALLY don’t want to fuck with that.

So in the south, especially near the mountains, you just go straight from your car to inside your house, draw your curtains and watch tv.

If you see lights in the fields just fucking leave it alone.

Eyes forward. Don’t be fucking stupid. Mind your own business. Call your neighbors and tell them to bring the cats in. There’s coyotes out. Some of them know. Most of them don’t.

Other than that everything’s a ghost and they died in the civil war. Literally all of everything else is just the civil war. We used to smell old perfume and pipe tobacco in the weeks leading up to the battle anniversaries.

Shit’s wild and I sound fucking crazy but I swear to god it’s true.

Every time this post comes around, it’s my favorite to open up the notes and read the stories. Probably shouldn’t have since I’m sleeping alone tonight, but you know, it’s fine. 😂

Austrian girl here who has lived in Ireland for 5+ years. This shit is LEGIT. I’ve seen it with my own two Catholic eyes. 

Sure, visit during the day. That’s alright as long as you’re respectful. But you couldn’t PAY ME ENOUGH to go there at night. These are also the last places where you wanna start littering. 

I grew up in southwest Pennsylvania which is a weird mixture of American cultures and environments. I was in the heavily forested mountains (northern Appalachia) but had lots and lots of corn fields and cow pastures. Like the Smoky Mountains and fields of Kansas combined. And being so cut off from a lot of the world, we had our fair share of ghost stories.

We had ‘witches’ in the mountains (more like ghost-women who will snatch you up by making you wander in a daze around the forest like the Blair Witch before killing you or letting you back out into society but you’re… different). Or devils in springs or abandoned wells (don’t look too long into one or something will follow you). 

But we also had the cornfield demons. I’ve witnessed this many times. You’ll be in the passenger seat looking out the window and see red glowing eyes in the cornfield. No light shining in that direction. Just two red dots a few inches apart faintly glowing in a pitch black cornfield. They’re not the glow of deer eyes in the headlights. More like the embers of a dying fire. Sometimes, as you drive away, you’ll look out the back window or side mirror and you can see the eyes have moved to the edge of the corn field, still watching you. If you bring it up with the driver, they’ll call you paranoid, but grip the wheel a bit tighter and driver a little faster.

I was walking to a friend’s house one night. It was about 20 minutes down a dirt road with forest on one side and a cornfield on the other. I’ve walked past it many times and wasn’t really concerned. My main worry was coming across a skunk or porcupine. I didn’t have a flashlight because the moonlight was bright enough and I knew the walk really well. Then I saw the eyes. I immediately averted mine (because for some reason that’s how to not annoy it) but they kept wandering back. They were still there, watching. I heard rustling and saw the eyes come closer and I took off running. I got to my friends without a scratch, but I was terrified. I mentioned it to my friend and that’s when I found out it was A Thing. Her parents agreed and shared their stories. I brought it up more and almost everyone knew what I was talking about. It was a phenomenon a lot of folks around town experienced but never mentioned. To this day, I don’t linger around poorly light cornfields at night. 

Faeries and Wee Folk and Liminal Spaces, oh myyyy…

I just…yes. This. All of this. And then some.

You don’t have to understand it. You don’t have to believe in it.

But if you know what’s good for you, DON’T FUCK WITH IT.

READ THE NOTES, READ ALL THE NOTES
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leupagus:

skyywalkerfen:

SW fandom has its collective panties in a wad now about the “possibility” that Luke Skywalker will die.

::gasp!::

He’s already dead, people.  He’s been dead since Darth Abrams forced Han Solo to utter the words “he just walked away.”

It’s called “character assassination.”  Look it up if you don’t understand the term.

I love and adore Mark Hamill, and I’m sure he did the best with the shit deal he got.  But whatever appears on-screen in Ep8?

Is not Luke Skywalker.

Well, okay. Since you’re so worried about my panties, I’ll debunk this in the five spare minutes I’ve got today.

First off, Han isn’t always a reliable narrator, and he’s talking to some random kids he was about to dump on the nearest planet five minutes ago; there’s no guarantee that what he says Luke did was actually what Luke did. I don’t think Han lied (although God knows he’s good at it), I just think he oversimplified and skipped a looot of information in his conversation with Rey and Finn. I mean, this is the same dude that neglected to add “oh and the kid that slaughtered all of Luke’s students was my son, bee tee dubs.” Like, dude isn’t known for telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Second, Luke does dumb shit like running away from his responsibilities all the fucking time. He abandons the Rebellion to go get training; he then abandons his training to go help his friends; he then abandons the Rebellion again in order to rescue a guy who was frozen but in no immediate danger and risked not only his life (the last Jedi, remember), but the lives of the last royal member of Alderaan and one of the generals of the Rebellion. Luke is Not Good at thinking about the long-term consequences of his actions. I’m not saying he never had a good reason for doing this shit; rather I’m saying that it’s ridiculous to assume that he didn’t exile himself for a similarly “good reason.” Finding the First Jedi Temple might, in fact, turn out to be a hugely important and galaxy-altering mission; in which case him peacing out in order to find it is perfectly, if cringingly, in character.

Third, there’s no time frame on when Luke “up and disappeared;” we have a vague notion that it’s been more than a year but less than ten since Kyle Ben had his hissy-fit and slaughtered a whole bunch of people, but unless you expect every moviegoer to read Bloodline and the comics and everything that isn’t one of the movies, it’s still pretty unclear what exactly happened. It’s entirely possible that at the time Luke moonwalked outta there, the First Order wasn’t considered a huge threat and the galaxy wasn’t on quite the precipice that it is right now. Furthermore, we have no idea why he hasn’t come back; like I said, he may have had a very good reason that we’ll find out, but to assume that he just flounced out is premature to say the least.

Fourth, jedi renouncing the world is a pretty traditional pasttime. Yoda did it, Obi-Wan did it; to claim that Luke’s character has been assassinated because he took a self-imposed exile for a couple of years (with zero indication that it was to be permanent, unlike with Yoda or Obi-Wan) is ridiculous. Luke isn’t a saint, even if he is a savior; to make him out to be some perfect selfless creature with no weakness or capacity for selfishness is itself a form of character assassination. Even if he did just take a lil’ break after, you know, watching people being murdered by his own nephew in front of him, that doesn’t make him not-Luke. That makes him human. I just hope the Star Wars universe has therapists because goddamn.

I get the desire to impart Luke with a purity that the rest of the characters don’t have; he is the Hero after all, and he did a number of great things. But to allow heroes no capacity for failure is doing them a disservice. I keep thinking of Frodo’s last-minute betrayal in “The Return of the King,” and how not even Sam can save him; nothing saves Frodo except the extermination of the evil itself. But Frodo is no less the hero of that story, no less courageous and resourceful and worthy of emulation. His character is not assassinated because he does something wrong; it’s given complexity and realism, showing us the readers that even the best of us can fall.

So when Luke comes back in “The Last Jedi,” it will be him, and his actions will either redeem his exile or give reasons for it, and either way I am looking forward to the movie. If you’re not, that’s cool, but your reasons for hating Abrams are pretty fuckin’ thin.

Was your point that it’s really cool to compare Jewish people to Space Nazis because you disagree with creative decisions they made - decisions that don’t affect you personally at all? 
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