28 Jul 14
1,136 notes
source
shop5:

Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if Sam took over as Cap (X)

shop5:

Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if Sam took over as Cap (X)

(via latitans)

28 Jul 14
2,597 notes
source
omnicat:

<3_<3

omnicat:

<3_<3

27 Jul 14
20,302 notes
source

typhonatemybaby:

a-silly-person:

uusoae:

Ok but in french the sorting hat becomes le Choixpeau which is an excellent pun on choix (choice) and chapeau (hat) and I weep that this isn’t possible in English

CHOIXPEAU

AMAAZZINNNGG

(Source: floralhomo, via hellotailor)

27 Jul 14
185,469 notes
source

kodamaface:

anostalgicnerd:

This was one of the most baffling things of my whole childhood.

OHMYGOD I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO REMEMBERS THIS 

That is some crazy stretching

(via paperandhorseshoes)

26 Jul 14
8,498 notes
source
ultralaser:

SMASH IT UP

ultralaser:

SMASH IT UP

(Source: morphinesnotes)

26 Jul 14
23,092 notes
source

monetizeyourcat:

twiabpaianlatfwnogf:

itstayloray:

unexplained-events:

Check out these wood carved shoes that were made to look like cow hooves. They were used by moonshiners to cover up/hide their tracks during Prohibition. 

Prohibition-era furries

"why the fuck do you have cow hoof shoes"

[SWEATING INTENSELY] “bootlegging. i am a criminal and a millionaire”

"DANCING I meant dancing. Dancing the… ah… cow hop. I am a professional dancer of the cow-hop, officer, and I am late for my… middnight forest rendez-vous with my fellow, uh, cow-hops. Hoppers."

(via hellotailor)

25 Jul 14
4,454 notes
source

starfleetbabe:

i’m undestanding this thing a little better

made with emofuri

(via batgirlincorporated)

25 Jul 14
94 notes
source

yasboogie:

Octavia Butler Fans Psyched Over 2 New Science Fiction Tales Octavia Butler Fans Psyched Over 2 New Science Fiction Tales

For many years, one of the few African Americans publishing in fantasy and science fiction, and the first genre writer to be awarded a MacArthur “genius” grant, was Octavia E. Butler, a widely popular and highly acclaimed writer who died unexpectedly in 2006. This week, two of her unpublished stories are available in e-book form as Unexpected Stories, featuring an astute introduction by Walter Mosley.

An intellectually omnivorous polymath, the woman variously known as Estelle, Estella or Junie was indeed a genius, and when she died in the prime of an already illustrious career at age 58, she ostensibly took with her a treasure trove of ideas.

Or did she? With her sudden death began a long process of sifting the sand of her creative life—endless notes on everything from American politics to insect biology; correspondence with Toni Cade Bambara and Toni Morrison, and with other sci-fi writers like Vonda McIntyre, Nalo Hopkinson and Tananarive Due; and what feels like a thousand pieces of stories, scattered across the backs of envelopes, outlined with magic marker on cardboard boxes.

In conversation at the Huntington Library in California, where Butler’s papers are housed, head project curator Natalie Russell recalls how, with “each passing month” of the archival process, “layer upon layer of complexity unfolded” because of the volume of materials, but also because of “the variety of materials and the intertwined nature of Butler’s working methods.”

And we should all be grateful for that work, which helped bring readers two perfect relics of Butler as a young, but already very capable, writer.

“Childfinder,” the shorter of the two narratives in Unexpected Stories, is probably best understood as an early variant on the kinds of stories woven across Butler’s six-volume Patternist series. Written in 1970, “Childfinder” is one the first stories she ever sold, having produced it after crossing the country by bus to attend that year’s Clarion science fiction writers’ workshop in Pennsylvania.

Sadly, “Childfinder” was never released because the anthology in which it was to be included never came to publication, caught up in legal disputes between sci-fi luminary Harlan Ellison and his various publishers. According to her letters, this was a constant source of woe for Butler, who watched her first big break dissipate in circumstances well beyond her control.

“Childfinder” was also Butler’s first taste of learning to navigate between her strong feelings of personal integrity and the desire of a mainly white male editorial and marketing world for writing that was more “black,” i.e., more consonant with their limited imaginations. Luckily for her readers, Butler was instead committed to exploring how systems structure being, and despite her having neglected Ellison’s and others’ pleas to “write the ghetto,” her literary insights persist in artists, scholars and activists engaged in making new futures for people of African descent.  

Interestingly, “Childfinder” is actually concerned with race, perhaps even reflecting Butler’s teenage fascination with the Black Panther Party. And though disconnected from the stories readers would come to know, “Childfinder” belongs to the Patternist series. The story’s protagonist, Barbara, has been actively seeking out nonwhite children with emergent psychic powers while snuffing out those of white children.

Stylistically, “Childfinder” is everything Butler rigorously demanded of her own writing: It is lean, compelling and encapsulated, with the strong characterizations that are her hallmark, and a deft interweaving of African-American historical material, in this case the story of Harriet Tubman. In her name, “Childfinder” asks us to remember the sacrifices required to break from established systems of power, yet also contributes a bleak perspective on how even a successfully disruptive political movement might regardless be doomed to inhabit only its own particular historical moment. As in many of Butler’s other stories, the long run of human time washes over all, leaving less in its wake than ever imagined.

With “A Necessary Being”—the other, and longer, piece included in Unexpected Stories—readers get a backstory for the Kohn tribes with whom exiles from Earth contend in the third volume of the Patternist series, Survivor—a novel Butler eventually disavowed.

Much as she resisted writing “the ghetto,” Butler’s criticism of Survivor is that her treatment of aliens is too stereotypical. However, by shifting us more fully away from the human and giving us an immersive story about the capture and imprisonment of a Kohn leader, Diut, “A Necessary Being” produces a more nuanced sense of Survivor’s alien world, perhaps filling in a bit of what Butler perceived as lacking in the novel while still tacking very human problems of oppression, political consciousness and leadership. The story’s title is taken from a quote from a 17th-century sermon, which Butler records on the story’s drafts.  

In November 2013, I had the privilege of being the first researcher to work with Butler’s papers at the Huntington. In that first encounter, I couldn’t help but wonder how such immensity could be reined in with such precision. The organizational strength of the archive assures us that the arrival of Unexpected Stories is only a beginning, even if it is difficult to imagine how some of Butler’s unpublished work can be wrangled into publication.

Butler approached storytelling as a fundamentally intellectual exercise, cultivating and transforming each story over many years, sometimes over decades. Her writing was her thinking, and much of her archive is work in progress. When she died, the world lost a genuinely innovative intellectual presence, but with this archive we are at least gifted with the luminous traces of a mind always and beautifully at work. Unexpected Stories carries some of those traces to old fans and new readers alike, with hopefully more to come.

Marisa Parham is director of Five College Digital Humanities and an associate professor of English at Amherst College, teaching and writing on questions of memory, technology and African-American literature and culture. She is currently writing about Octavia E. Butler, and you can follow her investigation of the Huntington Library’s Butler archive at FindingEstella.com.

  • Octavia Butler knew that her success as a writer depended on believing in her own talent. Her archives are filled with notes she would write to herself amid difficult projects. This one is from the 1970s.
  • Octavia Butler recorded this quotation from John Tillotson on drafts for “A Necessary Being.” It reflects Butler’s stance on the irony of worship.

(via ultralaser)

24 Jul 14
65 notes
source

(Source: thefandomzone, via omnicat)

24 Jul 14
1,059 notes
source
potofsoup:

"Oh crap."  Some of the batter spilled on the floor just as the pancakes needed flipping.  "Steve, can you wipe that with a paper towel?"  Sam turned back to the pancakes.  One of this favorite parts of having a new running buddy is getting to make breakfast for someone afterwards.  He likes feeding people, especially superheroes who sit awkwardly in his kitchen behaving like a normal awkward guy instead of some motherfuckin’ legend.
"The … paper towel?" 
"Yeah buddy, on the table over there."  Sam briefly registered Steve stooping to clean up the batter, and then spending a long time washing his hands.  It wasn’t until he turned around with a plate full of pancakes that he caught Steve holding up a damp (but clean) paper towel.
"The paper towel.  I’ve rinsed it.  Where should I hang it?"
Sam’s not quite sure how to respond.  “Steve…. I usually just throw those away.”
"Oh." Sam could see Steve trying to recover, pretend that’s what he meant to do all along.  "Of course."  Steve looked like he was tossing a five dollar bill in the trash, and not just a paper towel.
Sam handed him the plate of pancakes and had enough experience with this sort of thing to let Steve think for a bit as they ate.
"So you can just throw paper away…"  Steve started, but then stopped.
"Yeah, it’s always the little things, isn’t it?"  Sam said between bites.  "When I first got back I swear I spent a whole day just in the grocery store, looking at people buying food."  Steve looked guilty, in a way that only Steve could about skulking around the frozen food aisle, so Sam changed the subject.
"I’m surprised it’s taken you this long — don’t you use paper towels to dry your hands in the SHIELD bathrooms?"  Then, thinking back to his grandma, he clapped his thigh excitedly, "You’ve got handkerchiefs, don’t you?  Come on, show me."
With some chagrin, Steve pulled out of his pocket a neatly folded and ironed handkerchief, with the letters “S. Rogers” simply and precisely stitched in one corner.  “I guess I don’t need this anymore, huh.” 
"Nah, it’s fine, man.  My grandma still does this stuff.  Saves all the soap slivers to mush into a new soap… thing.  Ties old socks into a mop.  Living through the Depression does that to people."  Sam continued, "Besides,that’s way more environmental. Maybe I should be the one using fewer paper towels.  So do you wash those by hand?"
"Of course.  We old folks didn’t have washing machines during the war."  There was something weird about Steve’s smile when he said that.
Sam thought about the thousands of crisp clean uniforms in all those war propaganda films.  No way all that was done by hand.  “Bullshit, I’m sure you had washing machines back then.  If not you, at least the army. It was the 1940s, not the 1800s.”  What was Steve trying to pull?
Steve gave him a look.  Sam held his gaze and chewed his mouthful of pancake with slow deliberation.  Sam is very good at awkward yet earnest staring contests.
Steve broke his gaze and got up to get more pancakes.  “Actually, Bucky’s family had a washing machine — they could afford one.  After, mom, well,  passed away, he would use that as an excuse for me to visit him more often, but I preferred doing things myself, so…”  The way Steve was talking, It was as if Sam had passed some secret friend test.
"Hey, you want some sausages to go with that?"  Sam loved feeding people, and this breakfast was far from over.
————————-
If the second half seems especially weird, it’s because it’s sort of a sequel to this.  ::shrug::

potofsoup:

"Oh crap."  Some of the batter spilled on the floor just as the pancakes needed flipping.  "Steve, can you wipe that with a paper towel?"  Sam turned back to the pancakes.  One of this favorite parts of having a new running buddy is getting to make breakfast for someone afterwards.  He likes feeding people, especially superheroes who sit awkwardly in his kitchen behaving like a normal awkward guy instead of some motherfuckin’ legend.

"The … paper towel?" 

"Yeah buddy, on the table over there."  Sam briefly registered Steve stooping to clean up the batter, and then spending a long time washing his hands.  It wasn’t until he turned around with a plate full of pancakes that he caught Steve holding up a damp (but clean) paper towel.

"The paper towel.  I’ve rinsed it.  Where should I hang it?"

Sam’s not quite sure how to respond.  “Steve…. I usually just throw those away.”

"Oh." Sam could see Steve trying to recover, pretend that’s what he meant to do all along.  "Of course."  Steve looked like he was tossing a five dollar bill in the trash, and not just a paper towel.

Sam handed him the plate of pancakes and had enough experience with this sort of thing to let Steve think for a bit as they ate.

"So you can just throw paper away…"  Steve started, but then stopped.

"Yeah, it’s always the little things, isn’t it?"  Sam said between bites.  "When I first got back I swear I spent a whole day just in the grocery store, looking at people buying food."  Steve looked guilty, in a way that only Steve could about skulking around the frozen food aisle, so Sam changed the subject.

"I’m surprised it’s taken you this long — don’t you use paper towels to dry your hands in the SHIELD bathrooms?"  Then, thinking back to his grandma, he clapped his thigh excitedly, "You’ve got handkerchiefs, don’t you?  Come on, show me."

With some chagrin, Steve pulled out of his pocket a neatly folded and ironed handkerchief, with the letters “S. Rogers” simply and precisely stitched in one corner.  “I guess I don’t need this anymore, huh.” 

"Nah, it’s fine, man.  My grandma still does this stuff.  Saves all the soap slivers to mush into a new soap… thing.  Ties old socks into a mop.  Living through the Depression does that to people."  Sam continued, "Besides,that’s way more environmental. Maybe I should be the one using fewer paper towels.  So do you wash those by hand?"

"Of course.  We old folks didn’t have washing machines during the war."  There was something weird about Steve’s smile when he said that.

Sam thought about the thousands of crisp clean uniforms in all those war propaganda films.  No way all that was done by hand.  “Bullshit, I’m sure you had washing machines back then.  If not you, at least the army. It was the 1940s, not the 1800s.”  What was Steve trying to pull?

Steve gave him a look.  Sam held his gaze and chewed his mouthful of pancake with slow deliberation.  Sam is very good at awkward yet earnest staring contests.

Steve broke his gaze and got up to get more pancakes.  “Actually, Bucky’s family had a washing machine — they could afford one.  After, mom, well,  passed away, he would use that as an excuse for me to visit him more often, but I preferred doing things myself, so…”  The way Steve was talking, It was as if Sam had passed some secret friend test.

"Hey, you want some sausages to go with that?"  Sam loved feeding people, and this breakfast was far from over.

————————-

If the second half seems especially weird, it’s because it’s sort of a sequel to this.  ::shrug::

(via ohsweetcrepes)

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