Exit The Tempest

I'm just confused. About everything.

[exitthetempest]

John Green said we're back, so I guess it's official

[vsemily]

Internet Safety

[ignorethisatyourperil]

Excuse me, what

[chief-of-project-e]

Irish people; The faeries aren’t real

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

[queer-trans-amazon-deactivated2]

#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)

[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.

[ohmeursault]

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

[superindianslug]

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

[elocinneem-deactivated20160605]

^^^ that part

[dduane]

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.

[pamisleyphd]

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.

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

^ So much good advice in this post right here

[weirdo-city]

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.

[witchy-woman]

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. 😂

[mistresstrevelyan]

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. 

[gayantlers]

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. 

[matt-the-blind-cinnamon-roll]

@thedevilinthealchemy and I are very old friends. I used to live in the same town as her, in Southern California. One night, a few years ago, we were celebrating the end of finals and the start of winter break, and we just hanging out in her car, killing ourselves with late night Taco Bell. Well, we decide we don’t want to go home just yet, so we start driving. We drive up a canyon, near her place. Now, we both had made this trip many, many times, in daylight and dark. A local tourist trap is in that canyon, and there’s a shortcut to a college campus that goes through that canyon. It was a normal winter night in SoCal. 

Well, about halfway through I start to get scared. For no reason. Within the span of two heartbeats I grew so terrified that my palms were shaking and my mouth was dry and for some reason I couldn’t take my eyes off the wood to the driver’s side. 

“Turn around.” I say, quickly. 

“Dude, already on it.” Kama said, doing a quick three point turn. I look in the mirror as she’s pealing away and see the creature. It was vaguely humanoid, and hairless, with elongated limbs and pitch black eyes, on all four limbs, loping after us. Now, if you’re in the know, you might be thinking “hey that’s like the creatures from Until Dawn, I call bullshit on this.” Well, Until Dawn was four years away, and it wasn’t even in development yet, so shush. 

I rip my eyes away from it and hold on tight as she drives. Then, at the same time, both of us get this instinct and we speak. 

“Don’t look in the backseat.” Needless to say, neither of us did. She drove damn near 90 on a dark canyon until we saw the lights of her complex at the mouth of it. 

I haven’t gone back in there since, and that canyon got shut down about a year ago due to a landslide and it hasn’t opened back up. I’m a history major, and research always has been my first love, so I go digging. I visit the local history society, talk about my tale. Turns out the whole valley used to belong to a people called the Tativam. One day, after the Spanish arrived, they vanished. Without a trace. We have a graveyard of theirs that we know of. One of my professors was trying to stop the houses that were being built on it. Spoiler alert: he didn’t, and the houses are hella haunted, and nobody wants to live there. 

Personally I do think the creature is a wendigo. That chain of mountains is park of unbroken chain that leads right up the Serra Nevadas and Donner Pass. 

THE Donner Pass. 

You do the math. 

[poisonousdame]

@carolinemb88

[dryadgurrl]

I’m from Northern California myself, state capitol, and while we don’t have much by way of critters (sure, we’ve got Bigfoot up in the redwoods, but those guys are mostly harmless).

Most of what we’ve got is due to the Gold Rush, and not just the hauntings (though there are plenty of those, a great many of them are theatre ghosts, most of whom are harmless, though some are very particular).  What we’ve got by way of Things were brought along on the trail from the Old Country to the East Coast and then along thousands of miles of wagon trail.

We’ve got our fair share of phantom hitchhikers and women in white, but mostly what we’ve got are the Things That Survived The Flood.  There was a flood in the early 1860s, one that caused the state capitol to actually be relocated for a while, and when it was over and the floodwaters receded, there was enough sediment left behind that what had been the second floor of buildings was now the ground floor.

There are a handful of places in Old Town that you Do Not Go after dark (despite being safe during the day).  When I worked in Old Town, giving comedic history tours, we started from and returned to a restaurant that had a club downstairs (in what had been the ground floor before The Flood) and there was a storeroom down there that got locked at sunset and no one questioned it, but the door to that storeroom was pretty much right next to the portable shed we changed clothes in, and I know, more than once, I heard knocking and scratching and one of my very last tours I got a facefull of wet-plant rot smell (not quite mildew, but not stinky like rotting meat gets) so bad I couldn’t breathe. It’s one of the reasons I stopped doing the tours, really, because I was starting to get the feeling I was being singled out, and I didn’t want to find out what by.

[teaboot]

When I was like 17, I lived in the woods on the northwest coast of canada. One day, I decided to go for a walk in a part of the woods I had never been to before. Because sometimes I see weird things out there, I made sure to bring my grandma’s dog with me, just running free and off-leash. These are wild woods, too, not parkland, so the only clear areas are deer trails. I stuck along to those because, you know, I don’t want to get lost, and about an hour in I hear this strange whistling. Just a short call- One long, sharp whistle followed quickly by a short, piping one. Now, I’m in a good mood and I figure it must be some new kind of bird, so I whistle back: long call, short call. It whistles again. I’m amused, so I whistle again. Long call, short call, and then just to be fun, I throw in a little trill at the end. It whistles back. It whistles back the exact same pattern. Now, normally that would freak me out, but I was in a REALLY good mood. A really weirdly good mood. So, I whistled again. And when it whistled back to me, I giggled. I… Don’t giggle. Not alone in the woods over basically nothing. The whistle came again, and there was a rustle in the distance. Seeing a shady outcrop, I ran to hide, feeling like I was playing hide-and-seek with someone. It whistled, I whistled back. Another rustle. Closer. I suddenly realized I hadn’t seen the dog in a while. I looked around, and saw him a few feet away, staring point-blank and totally still into the forest. The whistle came again, closer this time, and suddenly my weirdly bubbly feeling was gone. Instant fear. I got the dog’s attention and we absolutely booked it out of there, all the way back to the eight-foot-high gate that marked the start of the wild land. I locked it behind me, and we never went back. I never really had any idea what was whistling with me in the forest. Maybe some kind of mimic bird that had escaped home, or a squatter hiding out there sewhere messing with this kid and their dog. I only just remembered that when I was a kid, we learned about the Tsonoqua woman. The Tsonoqua woman is supposed to be an old woman who lives in the woods. She carries a basket on her back and has long, tangled hair. When children wander away from camp, it is said that she snatches them up in her basket and steals them away forever. But because she has bad sight, she uses her keen ears to hunt, and calls out with a birdlike whistle.

[normal-horoscopes]

I have lived in southern California for a lifetime. There are things here that even I don’t understand. Things I can’t describe. If you ever take any advice from my blog, please, please, remember this.

Coyotes don’t hunt in packs.

[kazooie]

[heyangilmau]

At least eight islands in the Pacific have already disappeared because of rising sea levels. Over the next century many communities, including my family, will be displaced and lose their ancestral lands and foundation of their cultural practices. Trump removing the US from the Paris Agreement, taking climate change off the National Security Strategy, and repealing the Clean Power Plan is a slap in the face and to me, intensely personal. PLEASE contact your representatives regarding climate change and taking steps to counteract the potentially irreversible harm Trump is doing to our planet.

I am working on setting up an online store in the next month or so and it will include all of my Disney Resists prints! 10% of everything in my shop will go to the ACLU and other civil rights groups putting in the time this past year 💛

https://www.instagram.com/heyangilmau/

https://www.facebook.com/heyangilmau/

https://twitter.com/heyangilmau

[dmolech]

This is an issue very close to my heart guys - my family and our descendants are almost guaranteed to lose our islands and the current administration just doesn’t care.

[fandomsandfeminism]

Full time work should entitle someone to enough pay for rent, food, bills, and leisure activities. Full time work for a full life wage. You put in your 8 hours a day, 5 days a week? You should be able to afford the basic shit you need in life, no matter where you work.

[rainydayshea]

pisses me off that this is considered a radical statement.

[vanderlyle-crybaby-geek-deactiv]

So I should be able to move into one of the midst densely populated cities, say LA or New York, flip burgers for a living and all of a sudden i should just be allowed to have a $2000/ month apartment to boot?

[spicyh0tramen]

Yes, otherwise it isn’t ethical for that business to be there

[vanderlyle-crybaby-geek-deactiv]

What did you mean by this

[fandomsandfeminism]

That its unethical for a business to not pay its workers a living wage. If the cost of living in one place is higher, wages should be higher.

[scxvnger]

This is totally what happened in TFA (watch until the end)

[fluffjellyy]

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

[annanymuss]

Did anyone notice...

that everytime Kylo Ren (Ben) and Rey are together in the same place (except for the force bonds because they’re not physically together) Ben always at some point ended up kneeling towards Rey?

Interrogation room:

Just right after he met her, he is kneeling watching at her

Chewie’s shot:

He fell kneeling and the next thing he does is looking towards Rey

Fighting Rey:

She hit him and he fell kneeling and looking at her

Throne room (aka red room):

Right after the elevator scene when she is towards Snoke, he kneels behind her, and again, he is looking at her (even while she is being tortured by Snoke in front of him)

Right after the battle of Crait:

His most famous kneel, at the end of TLJ (although that it’s during a bond, I included because they’re pretty close in the same place, she is right outside behind the mountain in the ship towards him) again, he’s eyes are on her

Always the same leg, the right one

Fun fact:

Genuflection or genuflexion is the act of bending at least one knee to the ground. From early times, it has been a gesture of deep respect for a superior.  The Latin word genuflectio, from which the English word is derived, originally meant kneeling.

The act of kneeling or deference (also called submission) is the condition of submitting to the espoused, legitimate influence of one’s superior. Deference implies a yielding to the judgment of a recognized superior, out of reverence.

The custom of genuflecting arose out of the honor given to kings.

Rey in spanish means king

[iliveinthe-moon]

A Knight kneeling for his Queen.

[fluffycakesistainted]

Yup, this isn’t even a subtle thing anymore. He’s very much coded as a dark knight, and all the kneeling over the past 2 movies is most likely a subtextual clue to his loyalty shifting from Snoke to Rey (as implied in the data bank), who, it’s become clear after TLJ, he wants to be the “Lady/Queen” of his life. (I especially love the “kneel” after she slashes at him in the forest, it’s even my header 😄)

[gaycrane-deactivated20210730]

“there were no cases of autism before 1930″

Yeah mt Everest wasn’t discovered till 1856 but im sure the fucking mountain still existed

[saintkitten]

i’m reading emma thompson’s diaries from the sense and sensibility filming for an essay and it’s very satisfying

[megcarr13]

Legend.

[exitthetempest]

Please, how can one acquire this full document? I never knew I wanted something so much...

[incorrect-ddlc]

Monika: Sorry for psychologically scarring you.

MC: Which time?

[felderwin]

my favorite thing i’ve learned in college is that way back in ancient china there was this poet/philosopher guy who wrote this whole pretentious poem about how enlightened he was that was like “the eight winds cannot move me” blahblahblah and he was really proud of it so he sent it to his friend who lived across the lake and then his friend sends it back and just writes “FART” (or the ancient Chinese equivalent) on it and he was SO MAD he travels across the lake to chew his friend out and when he gets there his friend says “wow. the eight winds cannot move you, but one fart sends you across the lake”

[agnesmontague]

i googled this bc i desperately wanted this to be real, and guess what…it is.

the dude’s name was su dongpo (also known as su shi). his original poem went like this:

稽首天中天，

毫光照大千，

八風吹不動，

端坐紫金蓮

(Humbly bowed my head below all skies Minutest lights shine through my deepest bounds Immovable by strong winds from eight sides Upon purplish gold lotus I seated straightly by the low mound) (x)

on which his friend wrote “放屁” (fart, literally), and you know the rest.

(here’s a chinese source for the skeptics)

[aeorys-deactivated20260131]

this is even funnier because just writing “fart” out of the blue sounds really stupid and random in english, but in chinese, fart (fang pi) is used as a common reply to, well, people talking out of their ass. kind of like how we’d use “bullshit” in context.

[highway-stars]

What I say: Country music blows

What I mean: Modern country music, especially songs sung by modern male country artists, revolves around similar themes of toxic masculinity and nationalism. The recurrent lyrics referencing guns, trucks, beer and girls in short shorts are uncreative and not entertaining in the least. However, older country artists and folk rock bands such as Creedence Clearwater Revival and Johnny Cash have stronger, more diverse themes and often carry an overt anti-war message. I hate the fact that what was once an interesting and powerful genre of music has now been claimed by gun-toting conservative bearded dudes, and it hurts my heart to say I hate country music when there are so many country artists that I very much enjoy, but cannot state the fact that I enjoy country music without being associated with the aforementioned group. 

[ghetto-jesus]

[tastefullyoffensive]

View this post on Instagram

“Did anyone see a cat around here?”

[exitthetempest]

Nope, no cats here

[gif87a-com]

[tertwig]

This is the most punk rock thing I’ve ever seen

[defilerwyrm]

What gets me is that initial pause. The bird knows this song. He knows when the drum comes in. Being able to anticipate musical rhythm is a form of intelligence very few species have, and this is the most remarkable example of it I’ve ever seen in a bird. The cockatoo knew to wait for the drums.

[exitthetempest]

birds, man...

[exitthetempest]

Ok guys, I’ve been watching Star Wars since early childhood but have never read any of the books or novelizations. They just were not on my radar. I see some people posting references to books that talk about post-RotJ and Ben Solo as a boy, can someone send me some recommendations? I feel like reading these are what’s going to get me through to the next movie