texas is funny. this one time a guy(in his truck) yelled at me(outside)(in summer) for wearing a cowboy hat(to provide shade)(while working)(in the sun) while i was working in the garden (in summer)(in texas)(on a sunny day)
sorry i’m a #FakeCowboy for wearing a cowboy hat(in the summer)(in the sun)(while working)(in a garden) instead of wearing my cowboy hat(meant for working)(in the sun) while driving a truck(air-conditioned) like a #RealCowboy who does Manly Work (with his truck)(spotless)(unblemished)(with AC)
hey so we put your morally grey character in a fandom. yeah half the fanbase makes them into a perfect angel who did nothing wrong and the other half depicts them as a cartoonishly evil villain who hurts people for fun. no we dont know how to explain that people can do bad things for good reasons or good things for bad reasons. sorry man
high school is soo funny in hindsight. the entire time you're there thinking it's the most important period of your life and then the second you're out you're like well that was fucking stupid
Gravity Falls was strange, and the townsfolk even stranger, it seemed.
The twins had been unceremoniously dropped off on the side of the dusty road, the roar of the bus engine fading away as the driver wordlessly drove off without fanfare. The poor man had almost seemed close to tears ever since they had entered the thresholds of this seemingly innocuous town, all too eager to speed off and away while leaving the two children coughing and wheezing in its dust.
It had not even been a full minute since their lackluster drop-off before they became well acquainted with the oddly sociable and irritatingly chatty inhabitants of Gravity Falls. A single conversation with a pair of boisterous policemen already told them all they needed to know about the history of the town, as well as the whereabouts of their Great Uncle Ford.
"The Mystery Shack," the townsfolk had called it. It seemed as though their distant uncle had earned himself somewhat of a reputation amongst the locals. He was the town cryptid; the ever elusive mad scientist that lived in the outskirts of town in this so called "Mystery Shack". No one really knew who he really was; but everyone knew exactly who he was.
So, when the twins found themselves stood hand in hand in front of the rickety old shack, they hadn't really known what to expect when door had swung open with a deafening slam.
He was a strange man, their Great Uncle Ford. He seemed nothing like the cackling looney lab-coated madman they had imagined from what meager hushed information the townsfolk had offered them. It seemed as though the tales of a scientist gone mad that experimented on stray children that wandered into his spooky "Mystery Shack" was but a cruel rumor.
He mostly just seemed unhealthy, to be honest. His sickly, pale frame utterly drowned in the thick red woolen sweater that practically seemed to hang off of his lanky body like a second flap of skin. It made him look almost child-like, like a kid trying on their parents clothes; which somewhat diluted the intimidating effects of his looming height.
Although, the townsfolk's apparent fear of their Great Uncle Ford seemed to have some merit.
For one, Grunkle Ford really didn't seem all too human. He wasn't inhumane, per se; just, not entirely himself, if that made any sense. Looking at him was like looking at an incomplete puzzle; or looking at someone who you remember all your life wearing a hat, suddenly coming to work one day without one, and it takes a little too long for you to remember what is missing.
It was like Grunkle Ford had lost pieces of himself. Somewhere, to someone. His eyes seemed... almost empty. They were a little too dull and a little too opaque, lacking the lively shine of life everyone else seemed to have.
Another thing was that Grunkle Ford wasn't entirely alone. There was... someone else. The twins couldn't exactly pinpoint where, but they could feel its stare, whatever or whoever it was. They could almost feel its stare, a non-existent eye trailing a weird prickling sensation across their skin. The twins recalled the words of one of the townsfolk, a tall bestacled man with haunted blind eyes; although unseeing they could have sworn his gaze never seemed to leave them, as all he said was:
"Don't catch IT staring at you"
The twins had an odd feeling that IT was looking at them right now.
They didn't even notice when the pale bony hand of Grunkle Ford suddenly reached into their personal space, barely registering his words at all, much less the extra fingers that adorned each of his rough, worn palms.
They didn't take the hand.
If the twins had thought the outside of the shack looked decrepit, the inside seemed somehow even worse.
Every inch of exposed wall, ceiling or floor were utterly covered by sprawling symbols, summoning circles, and indecipherable words that seemed to be in an entirely different language than any the twins knew. They overlapped and tangled into one another into big, messy, red splotches of clustered nothings.
There were notes, diagrams on ripped pieces of aged looking paper scattered everywhere, with hardly any room for post-it notes squeezed wherever there was room. Lit and unlit candles were placed absolutely everywhere; either hidden in the dark corners or openly stood in the middle of the floor; sometimes in a circle, sometimes not. The melted fallen wax had coagulated into a hard white mess onto the floor; the smell of cheap vanilla scented candles intermingling with the smell of halloween fake blood (and Dipper was convince there had to be some real blood there, too) to create a sour concoction that stung their noses unpleasantly.
The shack was sparsely furnished with rarely any furniture at all. Not even a couch, the tables and chairs simply pushed to the walls to make more space for the endlessly swirling symbols and pentagrams. The twins were hesitant of stepping on any of the summoning circles, carefully sidestepping the candles and walking over the line of the pentagrams.
The attic, where they would be residing, was not much better.
Maybe they did end up in a mad scientist's house, after all.
You gotta read and watch some old books and films that aren’t 100% modern politically correct. I’m not saying you should agree with everything in them but you need to learn where genres came from to understand what those genres are doing today and where media deconstructing old tropes is coming from.
Also, more often than you might think, they’re not actually promoting bigotry so much as “didn’t consider all the implications of something” or just used words that were polite then but considered offensive now.
When we choose to avoid history because it's Problematic or Says Bad Things, we are choosing to divorce ourselves from understanding how we came from that time to this one, which makes it even more likely for the cycle to repeat, with no one but a few people with shelves of old books aware that it's happened before.
ﾟ.+:｡∩(・ω・)∩ﾟ.+:｡ @snappidragon - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
dailybridgerton
izzy806
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
origamiaround
