natalieironside:

It’s that time again

(via in-the-drowning-deep)

marisatomay:

parents please check your kids’ halloween candy. just found hieronymus bosch’s garden of earthly delights inside of a peanut butter cup.

(via confuzing)

gawkinggeek-deactivated20250920:

12:01 a.m. on november 1st

(via a-kind-of-merry-war)

metal-autistic-coven:

I love how btvs establishes it as a basic rule of its world that nothing supernatural ever happens on Halloween (because the demons think it’s corny) and then proceeds to have three Halloween specials anyway

(via amidalleia)

tonysaintborgi:

tonysaintborgi:

wait it’s dst this weekend where’s the cher image

ok I’ll cher it

ALT

(via gerrykeay)

the-meme-monarch:

happy hallowing you can take TWO pieces

(via defiantly-whole)

tsunflowers:

tsunflowers:

I feel bad for people who’ve never experienced a corn maze bc it’s not even fun but you just have to do it

I’d like to reblog this with some tags and comments bc I’ve really appreciated reading them

people who get what I mean:

people who have found a way to have fun in the corn maze but who I’m a little worried about:

person who we are going to put in the corn:

(via sp0o0kylights)

anthropologist-on-the-loose:

I’m as grateful for cellphones as the next person, but sometimes I think about how everyone having a phone on them at all times really did cause us to loose some things as a society. I mean - for example, kids these days will never experience their car breaking down and needing to find the nearest place with a phone they can use. They’re never going to have the opportunity to tentatively approach a house only to discover that it’s full of queer people having a party hosted by a transvestite to celebrate his creation of a sex homunculus, stay the night, and loose their virginity while unintentionally partaking in cannibalism. It’s tragic, that kind of gay sexual awakening just doesn’t happen these days because of cellphones.

(via glorious-spoon)

powerbottombrucespringsteen:

And the number one halloween costume amongst the youth of today is, for a record breaking 63 years in a row, Scout’s ham costume from To Kill A Mockingbird

(via dropdeadadorable)

hamletthedane:

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

(via muffinlance)

graceashcroft:

reblog this to manually boop prev

(via in-the-drowning-deep)

covid-safer-hotties:

ALT

(via some-stars)

bludragongal:

bludragongal:

I had a nightmare last night.

I was a reporter.

Finally, here is Part 2 as an addition to the original post. Enjoy.

I spent a lot of time thinking about The Rules, and wondering how things worked. Thank you for reading.

Part 3 coming soon.

Support Me On Patreon | My Other Projects

(via bixbythemartian)

sausaged-rat:

virtualgirladvance:

a-sentient-cup:

theebbestgoy:

willgrahamscock:

ALT

(via findafight)

aokozaki:

beforeliteracytherewasdeez:

aokozaki:

So much translation discourse just boils down to monolinguals not understanding that “coolness” doesn’t translate across languages, and you need to re-add it manually on the other end.

Spanish and French understand the anglicism so just say “eso es muy cool” or “c'est très cool” if the context is not particularly formal

No no, not literally the word “cool” I mean the [concept of coolness]. Things that sound cool, poetic, funny, dramatic, etc in one language will completely fail to land if you simply go 1-to-1 word equivalents.

In the Japanese version of Fullmetal Alchemist, the antagonists are named after the seven deadly sins, in English. As in, rather than the Japanese word, “Greed” is still Greed in the original.

Because loan words from English are often pretty “cool”, as with your Spanish and French example.

But this presents a problem, because, to give them a bit of flair, the antagonists are sometimes given a proper Japanese adjective along with their name, to make a sort of title of sorts.

“Greedy Greed”

The italicized part would be a Japanese adjective, and the bolded part is an English loanword. This is fine in Japanese, but would be totally nonsense in an English translation.

After all, it’s common sense to keep the names the same, duh, and obviously the whole point of what you’re doing is to translate the Japanese.

Greedy Greed. You cannot call him that.

You can’t go 1-to-1. To keep the [concept of coolness], you have to identify what made the original cool, and then recreate it in the new language.

And here, we have a foreign word, and a native word, both meaning the same thing, paired together to give an antagonist a cool sounding title. So how do we do that in English.

Well, the seven deadly sins, being Christian and Catholic and all, have fancy names in Latin. Or well, they just sound fancy in English, because Latin was the language of intellectuals for a long long time.

And in fact, while we also have the word “greed”, English has a fancier sounding word that means the same thing, but whose etymology comes from the fancy Latin. That might give a similar cool-loanword feeling, right?

Let’s try it.

“Greed the Avaricious”

Oh yeah. That’s definitely, undeniably, “cool”.

(via findafight)