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“Deaf inmates are punished for missing count or mealtimes, though the announcements are made over loudspeakers they cannot hear. They are beaten by guards for misunderstanding orders, and, when they successfully lip-read one interaction and fail the next, they are beaten for ‘feigning’ their hearing loss. In addition, because prisons rarely provide certified ASL interpreters, the inmates struggle to defend themselves at disciplinary proceedings and have limited or no access to medical, mental health, or justice center professionals. They also lack access to any tailored social, educational, or rehabilitative programming. This, by design, is the nature of prisons—undesirables are hidden, with limited attempts at reintegration or socialization between the incarcerated and society (translating, on its face at least, to less manpower and money spent by the corrections system).”

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.

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.

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

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

AND FUCK DRYER SHEETS LITERALLY NOBODY EVER HAS ENOUGH OF A PROBLEM WITH STATIC TO WARRANT PAYING OUT THE ASS FOR THAT SHIT

DO YOU WANT CLEAN CLOTHES? YOU DON’T EVEN NEED TO BUY FUCKING DETERGENT JUST MAKE YOUR OWN* IT’S SO GODDAMN EASY AND 80X CHEAPER

FUCK THE ENTIRE LAUNDRY INDUSTRY *Fuck The Entire Laundry Industry Recipe

1 cup Washing Soda (not Baking Soda. Different things.)

1 cup Borax (not Boric Acid. Also a different thing.)

Step one: acquire $5 bag of baking soda from Costco.

Step two: lay that motherfucking baking soda out on a baking tray.

Step three: bake the baking soda on a tray in an oven at 400° for 1 hour (to make the moisture evaporate, leaving washing soda)

“lol code lyoko is such an ugly looking cartoon”

Give me more sweet OTP things.

Give me more of Person A nuzzling into Person B’s neck because they’re cold and tired, and Person B m e l t i n g.

Give me more slow dancing with no music, arms wrapped tightly around each other, breaths mingling.

Give me more of Person A playing with Person B’s fingers because they’re bored, tracing the skin, examining the scars.

Give me more soft kisses, lips barely touching, just chaste little things that leave both parties irrationally breathless.

Give me more humming in the kitchen, making brownies at 3 AM for no reason at all.

Give me more holding hands, that simple act nearly overwhelming one or both of them, thumbs stroking over knuckles, fingers interlacing.

Give me more of Person A helping Person B with simple tasks, like brushing their hair, or putting on jewelry, where it’s obviously an excuse to be close to each other, but neither are complaining. 

Give me more picking out baby names, painting nurseries, and cradling their children.

and i have to apologise

i’ve seen the error of my ways

straight boys are not ’weak and pathetic’ 

Blue Tree Monitors (Varanus macraei).

Credit: Frognerd

“Ammit? Amun? Anhur?” Nothing. Her heart slowly sank again. Three more tries, and she’d stop for now.

“Anubis?”

The ground shook. The lights in Suzy’s room flickered and went out. A single flame hovered in the middle of the room, and as it grew to a blaze it changed form. Within the blink of an eye, there was a tall figure standing in Suzy’s room. The body of a man, and the head of a jackal. His eyes shone bright as he peered at her.

WHAT IS IT, SUZY OF THE HOUSE MILLER?

“You’re the deity that answers my prayers?”

INDEED. I, ANUBIS, WHO RULES OVER THE LAND OF THE DEAD, IS HERE TO ANSWER YOUR REQUESTS.

Suzy thought for a moment. “O great and mighty Anubis who rules over the afterlife, can I please have a puppy?”

Anubis seemed taken aback.

IN THE CENTURIES THAT I HAVE BEEN PRAYED TO, THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I HAVE BEEN REQUESTED SOMETHING LIKE THIS. CHILD, HOW OLD ARE YOU?

“I’m eight and a half. My mommy says that if I can take care of a puppy, I can keep it.”

ARE YOU CERTAIN YOU DO NOT WISH FOR ME TO BRING PLAGUES UPON YOUR ENEMIES OR WEIGH A SOUL FOR YOU?

Suzy shook her head. “I want a puppy.”

CHILD, IN TRUTH THIS WISH I CANNOT GRANT. MY JOB HAS BEEN TO BRING PEACE AND LEAD SOULS INTO THE AFTERLIFE, NOTHING MORE. IF I WERE TO CREATE A HOUND FOR YOU, IT WOULD BE FORMED OF BONE AND SOUL ALONE.

Suzy thought for a second. She would have liked to have a nice fluffy puppy, but then she remembered how Aunt Marge’s Sphinx cat was still nice, even without fur.

“No fur is fine, as long as they don’t bite and make a mess.”

Anubis nodded, and raised a hand. Underneath his palm an intricate symbol appeared on the floor. It glowed bright, and the floorboards burst apart. Up sprang a massive skeletal dog, bigger than suzy herself. Its eye sockets held blue flame, and its jaw hang partly open in a perpetual grin. It slowly walked over to Suzy and nuzzled her.

“What does it eat?”

IT WILL NOT NEED SUSTENANCE, AND WANTS NOTHING MORE THAN TO SERVE ITS NEW MASTER. I HOPE THIS WILL SUFFICE.”

“I love it. Thank you, Anubis.”

Anubis looked slightly taken aback, but nodded peacefully.

FAREWELL FOR NOW, SUZY OF THE MILLERS. IF YOU EVER NEED ANYTHING ELSE YOU HAVE BUT TO ASK ME.

“Listen to me– all of you out there! You were told by this man– your hero– that America is the greatest country in the world! He told you that Americans were the greatest people– that America could be refined like silver, could have the impurities hammered out of it, and shine more brightly! He went on about how precious America was – how you needed to make sure it remained great! And he told you anything was justified to preserve that great treasure, that pearl of great price that is America!

“Well, I say America is nothing! Without its ideals– its commitment to the freedom of all men, America is a piece of trash! A nation is nothing! A flag is a piece of cloth! I fought Adolf Hitler not because America was great, but because it was fragile! I knew that liberty could be snuffed out here as in Nazi Germany! As a people, we were no different than them! When I returned, I saw that you nearly did turn American into nothing! And the only reason you’re not less then nothing– is that it’s still possible for you to bring freedom back to America!”

There are the “Captain America is a backwards, “Old Fashioned” fascist prick who is a mindlessly patriotic flag waver baffled and confused by the modern day and yearning for the “Good Old Days”

And then there are the writers who ACTUALLY GET THE CHARACTER

The above panels are an example of the latter

The transplant could be conducted on a woman ‘born without a uterus, or who had it removed or have uterine damage’ – this would make trans women eligible for the procedure.

A 26-year-old woman who is undergoing the screening process told The Times: ‘I crave that experience.

‘I want the morning sickness, the backaches, the feet swelling. I want to feel the baby move. That is something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember.’

Dr Christine McGinn, a plastic surgeon, told Yahoo News: ‘The human drive to be a mother for a woman is a very serious thing.

holy shit scoobert goin hard as hell watch the fuck out gang 

Character Chart Character’s full name: Reason or meaning of name: Character’s nickname: Reason for nickname: Birth date: Physical Appearance Age: How old does he/she appear: Weight: Height: Body build: Shape of face: Eye color: Glasses or contacts: Skin tone: Distinguishing marks: Predominant features: Hair color: Type of hair: Hairstyle: Voice: Overall attractiveness: Physical disabilities: Usual fashion of dress: Favorite outfit: Jewelry or accessories: Personality Good personality traits: Bad personality traits: Mood character is most often in: Sense of humor: Character’s greatest joy in life: Character’s greatest fear: Why? What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? Character is most at ease when: Most ill at ease when: Enraged when: Depressed or sad when: Priorities: Life philosophy: If granted one wish, it would be: Why? Character’s soft spot: Is this soft spot obvious to others? Greatest strength: Greatest vulnerability or weakness: Biggest regret: Minor regret: Biggest accomplishment: Minor accomplishment: Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: Why? Character’s darkest secret: Does anyone else know? Goals Drives and motivations: Immediate goals: Long term goals: How the character plans to accomplish these goals: How other characters will be affected: Past Hometown: Type of childhood: Pets: First memory: Most important childhood memory: Why: Childhood hero: Dream job: Education: Religion: Finances: Present Current location: Currently living with: Pets: Religion: Occupation: Finances: Family Mother: Relationship with her: Father: Relationship with him: Siblings: Relationship with them: Spouse: Relationship with him/her: Children: Relationship with them: Other important family members: Favorites Color: Least favorite color: Music: Food: Literature: Form of entertainment: Expressions: Mode of transportation: Most prized possession: Habits Hobbies: Plays a musical instrument? Plays a sport? How he/she would spend a rainy day: Spending habits: Smokes: Drinks: Other drugs: What does he/she do too much of? What does he/she do too little of? Extremely skilled at: Extremely unskilled at: Nervous tics: Usual body posture: Mannerisms: Peculiarities: Traits Optimist or pessimist? Introvert or extrovert? Daredevil or cautious? Logical or emotional? Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Prefers working or relaxing? Confident or unsure of himself/herself? Animal lover? Self-Perception How he/she feels about himself/herself: One word the character would use to describe self: One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? How does the character think others perceive him/her: What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: Relationships With Others Opinion of other people in general: Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? Person character most hates: Best friend(s): Love interest(s): Person character goes to for advice: Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Person character feels shy or awkward around: Person character openly admires: Person character secretly admires: Most important person in character’s life before story starts: After story starts: