Tiktok Refugees I Believe You Are Few But It Is VITAL That You Know On Tumblr You Can Speak Freely. Kill.

The crux of the anti trans movement is a war on bodily autonomy. They don't want you to have any agency over what you look like, how you dress, who you date, whether to have kids, etc.

They want total control over you. Not just trans people. Not just queer people. You. Everyone.

Trans people are just a scapegoat. They want total control over everyone's self expression. They want the right to mold you into their perfect little cog in their dehumanizing machine.

Happy Trans Day of Visibility. Our rights are your rights. Our destruction is your destruction.

midsomer murders + text posts (part 4 / x)

Wow, Tumblr is fuckin' HYPE for the Ides of March this year. I wonder why that could possibly be.

Once I "made" a custom emoji for my mum by crudely drawing a hijab on it and now whenever she wants me to buy a coffee for her I get a text like this

3rd of October: Durin's Day / An Treasamh Latha dhen Dàmhair: Là Dhurin

English Translation:

In the early years after the dragon came, the Dwarves of Erebor set their eyes on survival. Much was lost to them during this time, cultural and religious customs they failed to sustain in their wanderings.

As soon as they had homes once again, mines to work in and forges to fire, Thorin looked to these things for the final missing piece in their lives. His nephews, growing fast, had never experienced Durin's Day in any way other than that of the Blue Mountains.

He heard Erebor in their speech, saw it in the style of their clothes, and even in the weapons they favoured, but so much of his nephews' cultural references lay elsewhere. He wished for them to understand Durin's Day through the eyes of their own culture.

Thus, ten years since Erebor had seen its last Durin's Day, her people put on a feast in Thorin's Halls the like of which was rarely seen. They worked tirelessly to have everything right: musicians woke up old ballads, bakers brought back old delicacies, and the elders gathered to pass their folktales onto the new generations. The exiles.

Another wound was healed that night, another wrong put right. Thorin watched over the festivities as Fili and Kili learnt how to sing a traditional Erebor hymn and thought of his own childhood.

Finally, everyone came together on the stone slopes before the gates of their halls to watch the last vestiges of the sunset fade from the sky behind them and the autumn moon rise in the eastern horizon. For a precious few minutes, both lights lingered together, before the sun was overcome at last.

Thorin stood with his arm around Dis and the boys by their legs, wide-eyed with their first Durin's Day beads braided carefully in their hair. They were't likely to sleep tonight.

The towering stature of the Misty Mountains blocked it from view, but Thorin knew - could see - beyond their white peaks lay Erebor, bathed in the silver light of Durin's moon.

Maybe he started it, or perhaps they all did so at the same time, but slowly and quietly, their low Dwarven voices rose into the sky with a song of home-sickness on their lips. A mourning song.

Oh, far over the Misty Mountains cold...

Scottish Gaelic Translation:

Anns na bliadhnaichean a chaidh seachad as dèidh don nathair-sgiathach tighinn, thoirt na Troichean Erebor an sùilean air mairsinneach. Chaill iad tòrr tron àm seo, nòsan cultarach is creideamh nach do chùm iad beò anns am fuadan aca.

Cho luath ‘s a bha dachaighean aca a-rithist, mèinnean a bhith ag obair anns agus ceàrdaichean a chuir teinne anns, chaidh Thòrin don rudan seo a’ sireach am pìos mu dheireadh air fhàgail bho am beathannan sa Bheinn Ònaranach. A’ fàs cho àrd a-nist, cha robh na mic a pheathar eòlach idir air an dòigh dhen Là Dhurin ach an dòigh na Beanntan Ghorm.

Chuala e Erebor san dòigh-bhruidhinn aca, san stoidhle aodach, eadhon san arm a bha an dithis measail air. Ach leis na rudan beaga, chunnaic e gun robh sin a’ tighinn bho àitichean eile. Bha e airson ‘s gum biodh iad a’ tuigsinn Là Dhurin tron shùilean an cultar aca fhèin.

Air an adhbhar sin, deich bliadhna seach gun do chunnaic Erebor an Là Dhurin mu dheireadh, chuir an t-sluaigh aice seòin air dòigh nach fhaca iad gu tric anns na Tallachan Thòrin. Dh’obraich iad gu cruaidh airson a h-uile rud a bhith ceart: dh’èirich ceòladairean seann balantan, rinn bèicearan seann biadh fìnealta, agus chruinneach na daoine aosmhor ri chèile airson am beul-aithris aca a thoirt don ghinealaichean ùra. Na fògraich.

Shlànaich gort eile an oidhche sin, rud eile a chuir ceart. Choimhead Thòrin air an subhachas mar a dh’ionnsaich Fìli is Kìli laoidh traidiseanta Erebor a sheinn agus smaointeach e air na làithean anns an robh e fhèin beag.

Mu dheireadh thall, thàinig a h-uile duine ri chèile a-mach air na slèibhtean mu bheul an geata nan tallachan. Choimhead iad air dol fodha na grèine san speur air an cùlaibh, an solas a’ dol às beag air bheag. Agus gealach an foghair a’ tighinn suas san fàire Ear. Airson beagan mionaidean prìseil, dh’fhuirich an dà sholas anns an speur ri chèile mus do dh’fhalbh a’ ghrian.

Sheas Thòrin le a gàirdean timcheall a phiuthar, Dìs, agus na bhalaich ri taobh nan casan. Bha na sùilean drileach aca a’ coimhead mòr, agus bha a’ chiad grìogagan Là Dhurin a bh’ aca air pleatach anns am falt. Cha bhiodh e comasach gun cadail iad a-nochd.

Cha b’ urrainn dha a’ faicinn tro na Beanntan Àird a’ Cheò, ach bha fios aige gun robh Erebor air a seasamh dìreach thar air na mullaichean gheala, lannrach anns an t-solas ghealach Dhurin.

Is docha gun do thoiseach esan e, no ‘s docha gun do rinn iad uile e aig an aon am, ach gu slaodach agus gu samhach, chaidh na guthan ìosal troiche dhan speur le òran chianalais air an bilean.

Ò thar na Beanntan Àird fhuar a’ Cheò...

Let me get this straight Barnaby. This is a man who was being blackmailed for taking advantage of one of the troubled girls he took in. He admits that he paid the blackmailer. He admits that he was worried about what people would think. He admits that he was going to go meet the blackmailer and accuser.

But he is innocent and she made it up because she's a bad seed (even when she says "don't tell me what John Waverley deserves").

Say, if it was true why would she have told you given you threw her into jail for 84 hours all up, told her John Waverley deserved better and told her he was a good man and you don't ever want to see her again?

We're supposed to ignore all of that and believe he is innocent and take in the moral of the story about how false accusations ruin people's lives on the grounds of *check's notes* John Barnaby likes and respects him. Cool cool cool cool.

Midsomer Murders detective tv-show

once he's gazed upon her, a man is forever changed

la belle fleur sauvage - lord huron

A character concept that I'm actually surprised I haven't seen more, now that I think about it:

A character with a tragic past who's beautiful in an unthreatening, pitiful sort of way, who goes "wait hold on, people think I'm cute?" and immediately goes drunk with power. Having a whole villain arc getting corrupted by the power of being just so tragic and pathetic that people can't be mad at them. Someone who's been accustomed to always being the one who's blamed and punished no matter whose fault the problem was suddenly discovering that actually they could get away with murder by being so big-eyed and sad.

And once they figure out that they can just Poor Little Meow Meow their way out of anything, they do. Going from being genuinely skittish and timid into pretending to do so merely as an act, manipulating the shit out of everyone and avoiding all suspicion because Look How Sad And Wet And Pathetic I Am, of course they couldn't do any harm to anyone ever.

And if one person finally does see right through that act and puts puzzle pieces together of how there's been just too many suspicious coincidences and accidents that only one person would actually benefit from, they confront the Tragic Little Act directly, one-to-one, to say "I'm fucking onto you and your shit"

And suddenly they completely snap out of their timid, pathetic presentation to give a big, wide, sickening smile like "no-one's ever going to believe you."

San Francisco Details (Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, 2014)