arithanas:

gaylileofigaro:

This is worse. Looking at these you can tell they have no significant monetary value. They were confiscated as a fear tactic. Nothing more.

This picture breaks my heart everytime it appears in my dash. It’s a fear tactic, alright but—

The first one in the left corner: It’s a first communion rosary, and it’s not cheap.

The black one in the first line: That’s a widow rosary and it’s old.

The white one in the second line:  is a commemoration rosary. It has a miniature picture in the round part. I haven’t seen that since the 70′s.

In the third line, multicolor one: It’s an Anima mundi, I have only seen those in the hands of Rosary ministery’s old ladies. The oldest ones are from the 80′s after Juan Pablo II came to Mexico for the first time. It’s one of the old ones, I know because the crucifixes are different. 

The third one on the fourth line: Red and gold. The style is old, the metal is dark, that’s a 50′s rosary, probably a quinceañera one (or it’s maybe older, from the 40′s when the brides carried red roses with their offerings).

The fifth one on the fourth line: It’s a quinceañera rosary with Ignatius’s tear. The style is old and in my part of Mexico is orphan girls who used it. At least it was when I was young.

The third one of the fifth line: the blue one with the anchor. That one I have only seen in Veracruz and it doesn’t look new.

The fifth one on the fifth line: That’s a 90′s wedding rosary. Black and white patterns were popular on that date.

The fourth one on the last line: That’s a first communion rosary from the 30′s. It’s delicate and most probably silver.

The rest wrench my heart too, the humble everyday rosaries with wooden beads and knots. Those are cheap and bear the wear and tear of their user handling. But those  I described are much more.

Those are mother’s rosaries.

Those are not just rosaries. Those are mementos, that’s the proof of their families stories. They are taking from them the only portable things they can carry to feel the connection to their families.

It’s not a fear tactic. Call it like by its name.

It’s dehumanization.

teamironmanforever:

welove1stickyboi:

peterparkerisntdead:

welove1stickyboi:

peterparkerisntdead:

welove1stickyboi:

roses are red,

this year peter won’t see snow,

mr. stark,

i don’t wanna go

Op turn on your location just wanna chat

roses are red,

the soul world isn’t jolly,

[peter parker voice]

OP TURN ON YOUR LOCATION

I JUST WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A FRIENDLY CONVERSATION WITH YOU

roses are red,

and so are his eyes,

as he rises from where

his child just died.

roses are red,

and so are his hands,

stained with wine and blood,

and a thousand failed plans.

roses are red,

and so is his heart,

beating, yet broken,

without stop or start.

roses are red,

and so is the sky,

when he gets back to the earth,

that he’d left behind.

roses are red,

and so’s father christmas,

but tony has tried

for a million wishes and

roses are red.

his life has turned grey

all of the colour

was stolen away.

f u c k

theshay-shay:

strikelikeahawk:

pantheraj:

bemusedlybespectacled:

princedorkface:

glumshoe:

there-was-a-girl:

memes-and-musicals:

musicalhell:

necrotelecomnicon:

prokopetz:

silver-tongues-blog:

prokopetz:

stumblngrumbl:

prokopetz:

amalgarn:

radicaltrains:

radicaltrains:

the funniest thing in the entire pirates of the caribbean series is definitely that one scene in At World’s End where they have parlay but davy jones is part of it, and rather than have him stand in the shallows or something they get a big bucket of water and have in stand on it on shore

who thought of that idea? who thought “put davy jones in a bucket of water” and had the guts to suggest it aloud? and then who went “hey that sounds like a great idea!”

at some point someone told davy jones their idea was for him to stand in a bucket of water and he agreed to it

*stands majestically in a bucket*

ok but notice the trail of buckets behind him meaning he walked from the ocean through three other buckets of water before he got into the one hes standing in

It’s even funnier when you consider how he must have figured all this out in the first place.

Some folks are asking “well, if he can avoid the no-dry-land curse simply by standing in a bucket, doesn’t that ruin his whole motivation?”, but he’s not on dry land here.

The parley takes place on a sandbar – which, for the unfamiliar, is a temporary “island” of sand deposited by breaking waves, unconnected with the shore, that spends most of its time submerged, being exposed only at low tide.

What Jones is doing here is rules-lawyering his curse. Can you imagine the trial and error he must have gone through in order to determine that this would actually work?

“Okay, do islands count as dry land? How about parts of the shore below the high tide mark? Reefs? Shoals? What if I stand in a pool of water on a shoal? Does it have to be seawater, or will any water do? Does it have to be a natural tidepool, or can it be something artificial, like a bucket?”

What I am saying is that there must have been a process.

Pretty sure that this implies that the reverse – a bucket of sand, floating on the water (big bucket with just a bit of sand), would qualify as dry land. That’s absurd, so I’m pretty sure that his lawyer pulled a fast one over the curse governor.

It may be absurd, but the text of the film bears it out. Davy Jones can sense the presence of his heart while it’s at sea, but not while it’s on land (indeed, that’s why he buried it on land in the first place: to break his connection with it) – yet placing the heart in a simple jar of dirt conceals it from Jones’ awareness just as surely as burial on land does, even if the jar is on a boat at the time. Suitably prepared vessels filled with dirt absolutely count as dry land for the purpose of Jones’ curse.

Then the reverse should also be true. If he buried it in a jar of water, no matter how far inland it is, he would be able to sense it. So by this logic, any container of seawater counts as not dry land, ergo, the bucket is a perfectly viable loophole.

Not necessarily. It’s traditionally a lot easier to accidentally get whammied by a curse than it is to weasel around it – I figure that’s why he’s using multiple layers of indirection here. He’s forbidden to set foot on dry land, but it’s technically not dry land (it’s a sandbar, a non-permanent landform exposed only at low tide) and he technically didn’t set foot on it (he’s standing in a bucket of water). It’s entirely possible that either one of those things alone wouldn’t make the grade.

okay but this all raises one further, very important question: if it’s specifically “dry land” he’s forbidden from, what about wetlands.

can Davy Jones fight you in salt marshes? can he throw down in a peat bog?Swamp Battle?

This is the quality content I come to Tumblr for.

could he step on land if his shoes are wet?

No matter how ridiculous PotC gets I will love it. Especially when it results in conversations like this

What if he crawls around on his hands and knees, with his feet raised slightly into the air? Can he walk on his hands? Can he ride around in a litter or a wheelchair?

can he be in a wheelbarrow?

What if he flies over dry land? Like in a hot air balloon, or in the claws of a giant bird?

What if he’s carried by two swallows using a strand of creeper?

European swallows or African swallows?

positivelyqueerace:

dreamsrainandwitchythings:

intp-again:

muslimintp-1999-girl:

asexualchristian:

mentalmentalhealth:

girlwhorpsalot:

I needed this.

Thank you to all the people who posted this so I ended up seeing it. I really needed this right now. Thank you!

Yeah… Not gonna lie… I cried…

We need more people like this

Goddamn it stop making me feel human

The therapist I wanna be.

Text in the image:

“I’m a therapist and keep this poster in my waiting room, apparently it’s saved a few lives.”

I don’t like the phrase “a cry for help.” I just don’t like how it sounds. When somebody says to me, “I’m thinking about suicide. I have a plan: I just need a reason not to do it,” the last thing I see is helplessness.

I think your depression has been beating you up for years. It’s called you ugly, and stupid, and pathetic, and a failure, for so long that you’ve forgotten that it’s wrong. You don’t see any good in yourself, and you don’t have any hope.

But still here you are: you’ve come over to me, banged on my door and said, “HEY! Staying alive is REALLY HARD right now! Just give me something to fight with! I don’t care if it’s a stick! Give me a stick and I can stay alive!”

How is that helpless? I think that’s incredible. You’re like a marine: trapped for years behind enemy lines. Your gun has been taken away, you’re out of ammo, you’re malnourished, and you’ve probably caught some kind of jungle virus that’s making you hallucinate giant spiders.

And you’re still just going, “GIVE ME A STICK. I’M NOT DYING OUT HERE.”
“A cry for help” makes it sound like I’m supposed to take pity on you, but you don’t need my pity. This isn’t pathetic. This is the will to survive. This is how humans lived long enough to become the dominant species.

With NO hope, running on NOTHING, you’re ready to cut through a hundred miles of hostile jungle with nothing but a stick, if that’s what it takes to get to safety.

All I’m doing is handing out sticks.

You’re the one saying alive.