They pulled an âall lives matterâ on the fucking HolocaustâŠâŠ
Oh my god
why did he say 6 million then? jfc
cherry valley forever
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They pulled an âall lives matterâ on the fucking HolocaustâŠâŠ
Oh my god
why did he say 6 million then? jfc
ok we're settling this discourse right now
put ur zodiac sign in the tags & if you like or dislike:
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Eyvind Earle
Alan Burnett and Bruce Timm on Jokerâs signature grin
I heard them say once that if they had to change anything for the censors they would follow the instructions to the letter while making it substantially more horrific.
When you put death off the table entirely as a narrative device for writers, I feel like youâre almost asking to get a lesson in âwhat is a fate worse than death?â Itâs one thing to say hey limit the use of this theme because childrenâs show, or keep the actual depiction occurring off-screen (implied), but to flatly ban it means they have to get more creative to make that emotional gut-punch, and the result tends to be worse for the creative not-death.
This is why it was awesome working for Bruce Timm.
This is also why the people behind BTAS were able to brutally destroy Scarface in every single episode and why they were able to show some pretty gruesome scenes with Clayface and the mutated plant impersonators. Because they werenât actually people so they could get away with it with the best censor loophole ever.
Gif sources: @kane52630
Pull the trigger, Elizabeth.
fanta playing the long game on advertising
Passing on the good word, please get the info out there.
Some of y'all following me were literally born in the 2000s (and no this is not going to be one of those awful 90s kids are better rants) but I know from personal experience that as teenagers, you donât really understand exactly how young you are. Like I literally babysat kids your age. And I want to remind y'all that I am an adult. And there are lots of adults on this website. And if any adult, even an 18 year old, comes on to you or makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, you are 100% within your rights to report it, and please please please donât let yourself fall for their lines of âoh youâre very mature for your ageâ or some shit because I promise you that no matter what, to someone my age, you are a CHILD, and theyâre preying on you. Your safety is important, so please exercise caution in all your online interactions
Reading the notes on this, the very important point is made:Â If they were really interested in ~maturity~, theyâd be interested in older people.
Be young. Itâs OK.
I want to be really clear about something: Planned Parenthood has done more to prevent abortion than the pro-life movement ever has.
me: *is consistently unsure*
Can we please put all of them on a runway? I just got my life
GO AWFFFFF
FLINT MICHIGAN STILL DOES NOT HAVE CLEAN WATER
Irish people; The faeries arenât real
Irish people; No fucking way will I go in that faerie ring
#look#you donât go in a fairy ring and you donât 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 donât believe in God, but I will not disrespect the Good Gentlemen of the Hills. Thatâs 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 donât have to believe in everything, but donât 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 wouldnât 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, itâs ascribed to us being writers (i.e. sort of bards) or mad folk (also in some kind of positive relationship with the Dangerous Side: donât forget that the root word of âsillyâ, which used to be English for âcrazyâ, is the Old English _saelig_, âholyââŠ) or otherwise somehow weirdly exempt.
And you know what? Iâm 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 doesnât 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 youâre 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 donât go on about it afterwards. Because itâs⊠unwise. Not that you personally know any examples of people whoâve screwed it up, of course. But you donât 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 âhereâ and various values of âbeenâ) a lot longer than you have, and will be here still after youâre gone. Thatâs 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 â if asked by a neighbor â exactly what theyâre probably thinking: âPoor fuckers. Theyâre doomed.â 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 theyâll 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.
Theyâre building the alfar a new temple, too.
Atlantic islands. Faerie: we haz it.
The Southwest is like this in some ways. You donât 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 âAY WEâRE TALKING BOUT YA WEâRE HERE AND ALSO IGNORANT OF WHAT YOUâRE CAPABLE OFâ at the top of your damn lungs at them) will jump in to the car, after which youâre gonna have a bad time.
If youâre 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. Itâs a game to them. In general you donât fuck with the weird, you ignore the lights in the sky (no, this isnât a god damn night vale reference, yes Iâm serious) and the woods, you lock up at night and you donât answer the door for love or money. Whatever or whoeverâs knocking ainât your buddy.
^ So much good advice in this post right here
I live in the south and⊠you just⊠donât go into the woods or fields at night.
Donât go near big trees in the night
If you live on a farm, donât look outside the windows at night
I have broken all these rules.
Iâve seen some shit.
If it sounds like your mom, but you didnât realize your mom is homeâŠ. itâs not your mom. Promise.
One walked onto the porch once. Wasnât fun. But theyâre not super keen on guns. Typically bolt when they see one.
You think itâs the neighbor kids.
Itâs 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 donât go after it. If it is coyotes then itâs probably a pack and you seriously donât want to fuck with that and if itâs the other thing you seriously REALLY donât 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. Donât be fucking stupid. Mind your own business. Call your neighbors and tell them to bring the cats in. Thereâs coyotes out. Some of them know. Most of them donât.
Other than that everythingâs 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.
Shitâs wild and I sound fucking crazy but I swear to god itâs true.
Every time this post comes around, itâs my favorite to open up the notes and read the stories. Probably shouldnât have since Iâm sleeping alone tonight, but you know, itâs fine. đ
Austrian girl here who has lived in Ireland for 5+ years. This shit is LEGIT. Iâve seen it with my own two Catholic eyes.Â
Sure, visit during the day. Thatâs alright as long as youâre respectful. But you couldnât PAY ME ENOUGH to go there at night. These are also the last places where you wanna start littering.Â
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 âwitchesâ 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 youâre⊠different). Or devils in springs or abandoned wells (donât look too long into one or something will follow you).Â
But we also had the cornfield demons. Iâve witnessed this many times. Youâll 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. Theyâre not the glow of deer eyes in the headlights. More like the embers of a dying fire. Sometimes, as you drive away, youâll 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, theyâll call you paranoid, but grip the wheel a bit tighter and driver a little faster.
I was walking to a friendâs house one night. It was about 20 minutes down a dirt road with forest on one side and a cornfield on the other. Iâve walked past it many times and wasnât really concerned. My main worry was coming across a skunk or porcupine. I didnât 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 thatâs 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 thatâs 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 donât linger around poorly light cornfields at night.Â
 North Floridian here.  When in the woods at night, only use the woods from already fallen trees and branches and never leave the fire light.  For any reason, whatsoever.  If you think your hear or see something in the woods by god just leave it be.  If thereâs a nearby source of water nearby then make sure to keep the fire between you and it.  stay as far away from the waterâs edge at night as possible and do not leave the fire light.
North Floridian, as well, hereâbut I grew up in central Florida. On a lake. In a town that had to build its roads around the lakes and springs. Also, in the part of central Florida that happens to be apart of the Bermuda Triangle, so that was fun.
There werenât as many Civil War cemeteries as I live by now (there is one a tenth of a mile from my house currently) but most the advice I learned or decided was good to just trust my gut on still applies. Mind you, Iâm studying physics, so I either learned the hard way or just decided that my instinct was better safe than sorry.
Donât go near the lake at night. Donât follow the fireflies toward the waterâs edge because theyâre not fireflies. Trust the cat. The cat always knows better than you do.
If youâre swimming in a spring and see a winking light in the Mouth, donât go near it. They say people die because they get caught in the caves. I know thatâs only half true. Whatever that light is, Iâve gotten close enough to watch it back deep into the shadows. Actually, unless youâre a strong swimmer donât go near the mouth of a spring at all in Florida.
Touch the Great Oaks and Live Oaks with tender reverence because they are guardians but only if you show respect. Donât look at the scrub at night, things with yellow eyes will stare back and you will want to follow them.
What Iâve learned in the Panhandle boils down to: stay out of the woods at night unless you know the Firebreak around your house. Be respectful of the dead in the Cemeteries if you must be there after dusk, because the things within the gates will leave you beâitâs what wanders outside the gates that you have to worry about.
When you leave a cemetery at night, get to your car, and get out as fast as possible. Donât look back at the graveyard until youâve put a couple of hundred yards between it and you if you can avoid it (donât invite the ghost in your car, basically.)
There is always some wooden bridge that lots of people have jumped off of and died that is very much haunted that runs over a river. Itâs always a pre-Civil War bridge. It might have been remade and isnât wood anymore, but you donât cross it at night, and you NEVER cross it at midnight or later.
In my town, thereâs a spot in the river where anything built there is burned to the ground consistently, and never lasts more than seven years.
There is one statue in one of the Civil War cemeteries that no one goes near and has never been cleaned. I didnât grow up here so no one will tell me why.
Trees forming perfectly geometrically shaped clearings are some of the safest places in the woods. Getting to them, however, is probably not, and often is done at high speed. Carry iron and silver with you in the woods if you go out at night. And on those days where the light is tinted gray, and the needles on the pines look like ash? Donât go into the woods.
Leave the bathroom fan on because you donât want to hear the sounds that come from the woods. When the neighbor dogs all go nuts and start barking and yelling and yowling lock your doors and windows and bring the cats in if they didnât come in already.
Stay away from faerie rings. Especially on college campuses. I donât know why but around here, University and College campuses seem to have much more⊠active⊠Fae. Also, donât ever, and I mean EVER go near a kitten that is in the middle of a faerie ring. I donât care how much you love cats. I really donât. Trust me, itâs not fun.
Ignore the thunk against the screen door. Itâs just a moth. Itâs always just a moth.
Never say too long at the rest stops along I-10. Theyâre all liminal spaces and you donât want something following you home. Also, there is one that has just been finished west and closes to Tallahassee⊠just⊠I donât know what they disturbed, but get in and get out because that place feels WRONG. Donât look into the woods/scrubs along any of the rest stops in Florida. You wonât like what you see, or what you think you see. There are things in the woods that never forgot.
At 2 am on a clear night you will hear a trainâs whistle. There is no schedule for the train and only one set of tracks in town. You can be right there by the tracks and you will never see the train. It always sounds as far away whether youâre at home seven miles away from the tracks or are sitting at them.
Oh, and if you must go look for a pet at night in the woods, donât speak a human language to call them.
I honestly wish that I lived with more superstitious people in the part of pennsylvania that I live in. I wish I knew about the local superstitions and âoccultâ culture. But no :/ everyone is either totally atheist or SO CHRISTIAN itâs not even funny.