#I’m whiter than wonder bread

[the-prince-of-pigs]

Me: hears whistling outside

Me: lol who’s out there goofin

Me: is about to whistle back

Me: remembers i live in the outskirts of Appalachia

Me:

Me: closes window

[thebibliosphere]

It’s usually indicative of unstable mast cells in the upper layers of skin, yes.

And that’s blatant bullshit about the allergies. Allergies that present on a skin test are mediated by an IgE response that can be measured. MCAS reactions are not IgE mediated, they come from a million different chemical reactions in the cell, not just histamine.

And you are probably unfortunately correct that you are being misdiagnosed due to the color of your skin. A lot of allergy and MCAS testing revolves around how it looks on white skin. Same with EDS. Lots of doctors don’t know what EDS skin looks like on anyone not whiter than wonder bread. It’s a real issue.

I’m sorry you’re being mistreated like that.

I think my first session of acupuncture gave me a headache. But on the other side than where the chronic pain is, so honestly? I’ll take it.

[ilikechocolatemilkh]

I desperately need a pen pal whose first language is Spanish—preferably Mexican Spanish—because my father never bothered to teach me and I don’t want it to die in my family T_T I think I’m the ONLY one of the grandchildren that is even trying and I want to teach my nephew and my newest cousin...

[queeneliteshiz]

BOUNCE BACK IN SILENCE CHALLENGE

hello beautiful queens, since we only have a few days until 2021 I want to tell you about a challenge that I’ve been doing for a bit now.

i’ve been beating myself up because of loneliness, lack of motivation etc. while in quarantine but i’m now realizing that this time alone is actually meant to be a blessing, a period where we beauties can finally accomplish things we said we would do but never came around to it. 🦋 here are some steps. reblog and add some more if you’d like 😇

1. get off social media. you’ve heard it before, you’re hearing it again. even a few days of taking a break can do wonders for your mental health. i’ve been realizing that the reason why my confidence was constantly lowering was because of comparing myself to the unrealistic standards of social media. taking a few days off to remind yourself that you’re THAT BITCH, that you deserve the whole world and that you are an ICON LIVING is soooo worth not checking what he posted on is story.

use the hours you save from social media to realize your dreams. get on that grind. get that bread, raise them grades. when you think about it, you don’t even remember half the shit you see on social media, it’s a mindless way to waste such valuable time.

2. take care of your health. stop skipping brushing your teeth. get your ass up and get those teeth SHINING. whiter than the people at a republican voting poll. whiter than donald trump’s ass. you get the drill.

wash your face. try new skincare remedies and products. figure out your skin undertone, type, what works for you etc. and arrange your beauty routine to fit that. slather on the products that you bought and saved for ‘special days’. get you a nice moisturizer that makes you feel like mf bella hadid.

3. stop with the excuses and start working for your dream body. the only person standing between you and that SNATCHEDDD bod is, guess what, YOU GIRL! you are so much more powerful than you think you are, once you realize that you CAN be one of those girls that wake up early to work out, that can CHUG that gallon of water like it ain’t nun, that can RUN that mile your potential is endless. get up and get sweaty. put in the work and the universe will put out the results.

4. get in tune. start a manifesting journal if you don’t have one already. start a daily journal to write down in every detail what you’ve done and how you’re feeling. i did this for 365 days last year when I was abroad and reading it takes me back so vividly, probably the best decision i’ve ever made.

try spells, try reading horoscope charts, try using crystals and tarot. i’m an econ major that has no religious beliefs but experimenting with spiritual, sacred objects brings me joy. i feel like i’m peeking into a part of our earth that only a select few are aware of. that’s why girls like me can find meaning and hope in the smallest things whereas old white men who think they’re too scientific for these things die early. 😋 lol.

make your house/room your sanctuary. love the space you live in.

add a little bit of SPICE ✨ to your life. romanticize making that 1 minute pack of noodles. stare out of your window as if you were lana del rey. if we didn’t have those moments, what would life even be about? reclaim your power and bounce back. a few months of consistent effort and you will be a new girl.

[andypartridges]

tagged a couple of days ago by @whats-her-name-virginia-plain !! thank you <33

rules: answer 21 questions and then tag 21 people you want to get to know better

nickname: my dad's called me musho and googly moogly since i was very small (googly moogly is from a frank zappa song and he's a huge zappa fan), but i don't really have any other nicknames bc my name is so short. i'm not really a nickname sort of person anyway - a lot of my friends have nicknames and i'm the only one in our group who calls them by their actual name

zodiac: gemini

height: 5'9

last movie i watched: my friends and i hate watched the kissing booth over discord the other day and needless to say it was absolutely fucking awful !!!! whiter than a wonder bread mayonnaise sandwich

last thing i googled: denial film quotes bc i have a history extension exam tomorrow

favourite musician: genesis, xtc, blur, squeeze, r.e.m., rush, glass animals, the 1975, declan mckenna, the church, split enz/crowded house, lush, the go betweens, the jam/style council, the chills, the beatles, etc etc etc !!!

song stuck in my head: vanishing point by new order

other blogs: i have a blur sideblog and a phil wang sideblog, both of which i do a very half arsed job of maintaining

blogs following: around 600 i think

amount of sleep: anywhere from 6-8

lucky number: 8

what am i wearing: striped shirt, pyjama bottoms with penguins on them, socks

dream job: music journalist/novelist - i love writing and getting paid to either talk about stuff or make up stuff is basically what i want in life

dream trip: france, philippines (to see the squeezeboss @glenntilbrook), dunedin (new zealand). i'd also like to go to england again to see my extended family

favourite food: i am an absolute slut for pasta

play an instrument: i've played guitar since i was 8 and i taught myself the ukulele (upside down bc im left handed) when i was around 13. i heavily prefer the guitar, it's more fun and challenging and one of the few things i think i'm actually good at

languages: i am only 100% fluent in english, though i talk to my mum in a jumbled mix of thai and english, and i can read/write thai. i can also speak french at a tentative b1 level thanks to 5ish years of classes - i once had to help some french tourists at an airport and apparently my french was good enough for them :')

favourite songs: my favourite song of all time is pink frost by the chills :-) other faves include mercy street - peter gabriel, love's crashing waves - difford & tilbrook, this must be the place - talking heads, this is a low - blur, hearts and bones - paul simon, talk about the passion - r.e.m.

random fact: uhhhh i once won a duran duran themed giveaway on this hellsite ??? i got to pick which prize pack i won and i managed to cop big thing on vinyl, a big thing concert dvd, all she wants is & do you believe in shame on vinyl, and a magazine with a dd article in it. 13/14 yr old me was absolutely vibing with dd drip

describe yourself in aesthetic things: the smell of new books, strawberries, clouds, jelly gouache paints, gold & silver star glitter, paperbacks stacked everywhere, tote bags, flared jeans, those altoids mint tins (even though i've never seen them in australia), coloured pencil doodles, handwritten notes and journals, rain, flowers, old vintage scientific diagrams, penguin book covers

not tagging 21 people but i will tag some of the besties: @bbbrianjones @glenntilbrook @hensons @stephenmalkmusofficial @cloudbear if you'd like etc etc <3

[davekatzdefensesquad]

shitposts i made on my phone for no reason but maybe they’d make a good song/chapter title or sentence starter

What the hell’s a gouda panini? 

These are the questions that haunt me

How’d you get so funny? more under the cut

please, please let me

actions have consequences? more likely than you think!

that’s how you get the rona

jesus christ on a pogo stick

perish

im not doing well but thanks for asking

autocorrect got me sent to the ER

i just stared down my dog for ten minutes straight so i think we’re on the same wavelength

as the old saying goes: ew, and also, no

all we are is dust in the bin

having an existential crisis on the toilet mid poop is all i’ve done this week by fall out boy

what if someone lived in my basement without me knowing?

can we stop pretending i’m ugly?

i know what i’m talking about! i’m in therapy.

how many calories are in childhood trauma? 

i won’t apologize for being so sad

you’re hotter than me but we’re identical twins

i’ve come to the conclusion that men aren’t funny 

i was thinking about asking if you wanted anything from the store but then i remembered i’m kind of awkward in public and didn’t want people thinking i ate healthy food

sorry i smoked all your weed

i wonder if there’s people turned on by pitchforks

someone ate my banana bread and i’m really about to lose my shit

hooked on sonic

too many flaws, not enough time to fix them

i love you more than i love finding money in coat pockets that i forgot i owned

etsy for men

i’m probably overreacting byt i’m not sure what to do about that mid freak-out, okay?

the moose is loose on the field

i have a talent for going to bed peacefully after a horror movie marathon

how did you get your mom to stop trying to hook you up with her boss’ son?

i didn’t spend nine years on tumblr just to talk about captain america’s butt

don’t talk to me if you’re gonna lie about all this sexual tension

hey, siri? how can i get my feelings out of my life?

i had a crush on my spanish teacher who kind of looked like a gopher

when i see a man using pinterest, i slow clap for about 45 seconds in his honor

when in doubt, pick c

not enough meth in the world to get me over him

i can’t poop in the woods! i’m shy!

i’m not allowed back at subway

i love ice cream but it doesn’t love me back

injured in a mosh pit? i can help!

i’m not really scared of being dead, i just don’t want it to hurt or be embarrassing, know what i mean?

how to fight off the advances of the ghost boy in my basement

i think about that guy who was killed by a turtle entirely too often to not be a descendant or something

i done fucked up: a mystery told in two parts

i wonder if all computer teachers escaped hell together

all those dryer settings and you chose to be stuck on permanently pressed

i wasn’t being rude, i was being extra

why does my poop smell like carrots

is this depression or food poisoning?

heaven is overrated

a redder shade of neck on a whiter shade of trash

[andrawmedae]

A fireplace tale

The fireplace had always been Rowena’s favorite place to think. To fantasize, to ruminate, to bounce some ideas back and forth, even if, let’s be honest, she always ended up hurting herself with some gloomy thoughts.

At the edge of the tall pines, tremendous blazings had given way to dying embers, and the traveling companions divided the watch quarters among themselves.

As she stirred her spoon in the hot broth Sindri brewed, turnips and pine nuts along with some leftover bread, the young dwarf replayed in her head the events of the last days.

The party had been on the road for a few days, and the young bard was feeling a bit agitated, to say the least. How can one think about such trivial things when children are missing? How can one feel so jaunty and cheerful when talking to a special someone when some moments ago, people were murdered in front of one’s eyes? How can one(/cut)..

Sindri: … your soup?

Rowena: Sorry cousin, what?

Sindri: You need to eat a bit more Rowena, I think the night won’t be a quiet one, the woods are teeming with life, and I’m not sure it’s the affable kind.

Rowena: I… yes, yes I’ll eat up.

The two dwarves were sitting side by side on a heavy branch, by the fire where a cauldron was quietly bubbling. A few meters away, three makeshift tents stood tall, right on the fringe of some ominous pines. The warmth of the flames was welcome as the cool midnight breeze was beginning to pierce through the layers of adventurers' cloth.

Sindri: You don’t seem as chipper as usual, is something on your mind?

Rowena (not very convincing): Well yes of course I mean, the children are still lost, we don’t yet know what awaits us beyond these cursed woods, and the nights to come are not going to help me calm my mind.

Sindri: Rowena, I have roamed these lands for 200 years longer than you, and yet you honestly seem to think I can’t see when you are hiding something from me?

Rowena: Oh come on cousin, don’t play that old trick on me, truly it’s nothing in particular

Sindri (amused): Oooh I see I see. You know, it is my mind who is surely playing tricks on me, because I was quite confident it was related to yesterday. You know, the fact that when we decided to break the buddy system for last night’s vigil, and that you would have loooved finishing your conversation with Iaus(/cut)

Rowena (quick, afraid): Oy shut up, shut up they’ll hear us, you don’t know if everybody is asleep Sindri!

Sindri (joyful): Aha, perceptive as always your good Cousin Sindri, Heh? Rowena, you can’t fool me, it's not because my beard is whiter than yours that I no longer perceive the flicker, that flicker, in people's eyes.

Rowena: It’s not what you think, or not exactly, not all, I mean I (stumbles) (pause)

Sindri: What is it cousin? (pause) I’m sorry for teasing you a bit, I could not help myself. But it was so tempting, you know? I promise, you can tell me if you want to, you know I won’t judge you.

Rowena: Yes, yes I know, it’s just that I’m a bit embarrassed talking about that with you. I mean all I know about, you know, your love life, is that you have been married to Pia for quite some time now, which is wonderful of course, but that’s it! I don’t know all the foolishness from your younger years, the silly things you won’t tell without one or two tankards full of ale. So well it’s… weird I guess, for me, talking about that, because well, you don’t know much about me either, and a vigil doesn’t scream “Comfy and safe time for coming out to your long lost cousin”

Sindri: Coming out you say? Wait, I thought it was about Iaus?

Rowena: Well, yeah it kinda is? But at the same time it’s a little more complicated than that, and I feel a little uneasy about it. I’m 80 but I still feel like such a child! I mean (whispering) having a crush in these peculiar circumstances would already be a bit challenging to deal with… but having several, on people who know each other and work together it’s ooooh- I would love burying my head in the earth and disappearing.

Sindri: You know what little cousin? I think it’s time for me to tell you more about my -how did you put it, oh Pelor give me strength, - my love life, while you drink your soup.

Rowena: ...

Sindri: Well to begin with the part that you know(/cut)

Rowena (intrigued): The part that I know?

Sindri (amused): Rowena, it would be easier for me to tell you about that time if you drank your soup peacefully. Now, as I was saying, you know I’m happily married to Pia. Back in the day, it was as wanted the tradition, but our union was also beneficial to not only our two families, but a lot of other people. Some trades and arrangements were made, contracts and apprenticeships, we knew our clans would have some steady years as a result of our families becoming one. The part that you don’t know, and where I’ll be glad if you take a generous gulp right… (Rowena takes a spoonful) oh, thank you dear. I am so much more than Pia’s husband, and she’s so much more than Sindri’s wife. Because hmm, you know, when, you know when we met, well. There were a lot of people in the Crag you know? And… (silent)

Slowly, gently, Rowena swallowed her mouthful before sitting on the ground, in front of Sindri. She held his hand as she said quietly

Rowena: Were you in love with someone else?

Sindri (smiling, quietly): Well, as a matter of fact, I still am! Rowena, I have been in love with two wonderful people for over 100 years, who know each other and that I love both of them : my dearest Pia, who gives me love and strength everyday, and who gave me adorable children, and Amonak, who also gives me love and strength everyday.

Rowena (loudly): Oh my gooood that’s amazing!

Iaus (alerted/groggy/from afar): What? Are we being ambushed?

Rowena: (Oh shit, laughing) Sorry, no, all fine, you can go back to sleep! (lower, but very fast) Tell me more about Amonak, about everything!

Sindri: Hahaha, I’m glad to see your ardor, it warms my heart a little, being able to talk about both of them to my charming cousin, and to feel elated and relieved about it. I wish to tell you about the time where we met, because I assume you are experiencing quite a similar phase right now. I met Amonak before meeting Pia. He was about (/cut)my age

Rowena (bursting with joy but trying to keep her voice down): He? Amonak is a man?

Sindri (amused, lighthearted): Shhh, finish your soup first, you can grill me later! Yes, Amonak is a man, a dwarf from the FrostIron Moun(/cut)… (thinking) has anyone told you that the FrostIron Mountains folks are positively… open minded with who one should love? It is a sacred sentiment after all, a blessing, and when one lucky person falls in love with another, it is always celebrated fondly. When I met him, all I could see was a young dwarf radiating with such a calming but firm presence, so much aching but so much joy, and all I wanted to do was listening to him explaining passionately how one could smith a well-balanced axe, or how to cure a bad beer induced hangover. Yes, I may have experienced the last one while being cared for said hangover.

Rowena: Oh you need to tell me the secret recipe for that, Cousin

Sindri (light laughter): Aging 100 years should help you greatly! Being close to Amonak felt like floating in the clouds, bathing in the sunlight without suffering from the heat, feeling strong as Moradin, but as light as the wind too. The Crag was still the Crag of course, but thanks to him, the hardship seemed less terrible to endure. I won’t bore you with all the petty details, but we spent days discovering each other slowly and gently, then months sharing and caring for each other. A few years later, Pia and some others arrived in the Crag. She too made me feel like a ray of sunshine was brushing my ski, gently painting my cheeks pink each time she spoke to me. Some other newcomers were also fascinating people, I know for a fact that Amonak did bind with some of them. After all those years talking with the same company, It felt for both of us like a breath of fresh winter air… I could have convinced myself that I was 50 years old again. I took advantage of every stolen moment with Pia to get to know her, then the discussions got longer and longer, whether they were just between the two of us, with Amonak or the other newcomers. I was falling in love with her too. And it was such a delightful feeling, such a special blessing that I wanted to talk to Amonak as soon as I understood it.

Rowena: And you did? Were you not afraid of breaking his heart?

Sindri: Well to be honest, I don’t see one’s heart as a breakable thing. For instance, a mighty tree could be a beautiful picture to represent that strong force of nature, but I think it rather is closer to… well, water? It can bend, it won’t break. And yes, sometimes it can freeze, but with a little warmth, a soft conversation or a prayer it can easily melt back to an impetuous torrent, full of life and joy, full of light and love. I was not afraid of breaking Amonak’s heart. I knew that even if it froze for a bit, I could easily help my beloved unthaw it, making him feel unique and adored. But the beauty of this moment was slightly different that you could have guessed, because well, Amonak fell in love with one of the newcomers too!

Rowena: Nooooo, for real?

Sindri (amused): Yes, yes, “for real”. I don’t know if Pelor blessed us, or if I am one of the luckiest dwarves that ever lived, but since that day, my heart is held not by two, but by four hands, and it never felt cold anymore.

Rowena: Sindri, that’s so beautiful, thank you for sharing such a cherished memory, it makes me wanna burst into song.

Sindri: It would be an honor, but I don’t think our new friends would feel the same that late in the night!

Rowena: Haha, you are right. (pensive) Does it make this journey harder for you? I mean, I know for a fact that you did not see Pia for a long time, is it the same with Amonak?

Sindri: Well, sadly yes. I had to protect them both. But I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. When Pia and I got married, we enchanted our rings so that they could communicate with each other. It's not much, we can't have a conversation, but thanks to that, I can know if Pia is in good shape, if she is happy, and to know that it fills me with joy and serenity. And do you see that locket holding my cape? Everyone thinks that's a sigil for Pelor, a sun with a sunflower, that would be totally appropriate. But the truth is quite different as you will have already guessed.

Rowena: Amonak have the same sigil?

Sindri: Well not quite identical, Amonak is a cleric of Moradin, his own sigil has an anvil with a sunflower. Here let me show you. As Sindri places a hand on his locket, as to warm it a bit, he says with a gentle voice Sindri: Hello sunbeam, I hope you are alright.

Then, putting his hand on his knee, the sun began to revolve on itself, while the sunflower above it began to rotate in the opposite direction. A few moments later, two eyelid-like shapes opened, and a calm metallic voice responded. The Locket Warm. Love. Safe. Time

Rowena: Did he? It? Who?

Sindri: Amonak seems to be fine according to our lockets, and he misses me. ó elskan mín.

Rowena: That’s so… magnificent! Can you teach me how to do that? I could enchant my own harp and… well I have other instruments who can..

Sindri: In time I could show you that my dear, but I think you ought to yourself to have some heartfelt conversations with some other people over there, before saying Hey, this magical harmonica will tell me if you are alive and well, and by the way I have a crush on you

Soren: Oh, you have a crush on who?

[ktheist]

twenty.

chapters: 19 / 20 / 21 

knight!jungkook x princess!reader

x

The room he takes you to is an attic room. There’s a bed and a chair and a window bigger than the one he had in the cell but this was not what you wanted for your knight. You want him to live a free man. You want him to be able to return to the Northern Kingdom and start anew. Perhaps find a woman and start a family. That was the only thing that made you agree to Taehyung’s bargain.

Could he sleep with the raucous on the second floor? The vulgar noises and the thudding of against the walls? The screams and hollers that still managed to pierce through the ceiling?

“Why did you come back?” It came out harsher than you intended and so are your next words, “why didn’t you use the money to buy a land? why - why did you have to find me?”

By the end of it, your voice cracks and your shoulders are shaking from the oncoming waterfall but you keep your back to him. But you should have known that your knight would never interpret your tone to be a hostile one nor would he stand by as he watches his Princess hold back her tears on her own. So it doesn’t come off as a surprise when those arms wrap around you from behind and his cheek caresses your head.

“I didn’t want to be in a place where there’s no you, princes.” 

“But are you happy with where you are right now?” You sniffle, the thought of him smiling at that woman burns at the back of your mind but if that made him happy - if the attention of various women and possibly night companions made him happy - then you’ll accept it.

“I am,” two words. Only two words and that’s all it takes for your heart to sink to the ground but two words is also what it takes for the organ in your chest to skip a beat, “right now. Right here. Because I’m with you.”

A sudden urge to look at him makes you crane your neck to the left,“Jungkook, I-” 

The words die in your throat. The lips that presses on yours are soft and gentle and warm like the first time you kissed them. The arms that hold you promises to cherish and to protect like the vow he took when he swore his allegiance.

“Princess,” he says in between kisses, “princess, I adore you.”

The cloak slips past your shoulders and pool around your feet. You don’t know when his hand snaked to take of the skirt as well whilst you tread backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. For the briefest moment, you worry that the bed is going to fall right through the ceiling as he cradles your hips whilst he pulls his shirt over his head.

He shivers under your touch when you reach to trace the scars that mar his skin. There are too many for a man his age. Too much pain and suffering. Jungkook’s hand covers yours, his eyes pleading for you not to do this. Not to feel like it’s your fault that he’s not back at the Northern Kingdom, living his life the way any man his age should.

He makes sure you know that it’s his choice when he leans down to kiss you. And you never question any of it throughout the night. How could you? He kept your mind occupied with other, sinful thoughts.

x

“Lord Park,” you greet the man as he walks into your office, the doors shutting behind him, “what’s the cut off age for boys to train to be a royal guard?”

He seems taken aback at first but that easy smile slips on his face like clockwork, never missing a beat as he replies calmly, “why, that’s a peculiar thing to ask.”

You pretend to sift through the documents on your desk. Coincidentally, you’ve found out he’s the head of security which makes it easier to handle the boy’s retirement. Or so you thought.

“We accept children as young as the age of ten, of course it’s unfortunate that their family had to trade a son for some bread and water but the children are better taken care of here.”

Ah, then no wonder the boy didn’t look at older than seventeen. He must have started training around the age of twelve since it takes approximately five years to acquire the adequate skills to be a royal guard. Wouldn’t it be suspicious if you’d ask Lord Park to let an ordinary guard to retire?

Setting the papers down and studying the man’s expression, you lean back against the chair and cross your legs. You have to resist the heat that rushes to your face as the pain in your legs reminds you of the events of last night.

You clear your throat, schooling a stoic expression as you catch on the big question mark on his face as he wonders about why you summoned him.

“I’ve talked to a few of the guards, it’s as you said, most of them came because their family was too poor to afford to feed another mouth.”

The man waits for you to continue despite the barely noticeable twitch in his smile.

“I want to amend that. No boy below the age of sixteen shall be taken to train as royal guard. The ones who are here now who wants to retire can do so.”

“But your highness,” he interjects, the lines in his forehead tells you that there’s problem, “we’ll be too vulnerable if a portion of the guards retire all at once.”

Nodding, you ponder on what he said. There’s truth in it and Lord Park has been holding the post of head security long before you came. 

“Then we’ll do it according to their age. Those older and enrolled the youngest can retire first and after six months, the second age group and so on.”

“What of the available posts?” He inquires but there’s a stiffness in his tone that tells you he’s not for this idea.

“I’ve reviewed them and it seems we have too many guards doing necessary things like guarding the empty cells or cells that have one or two prisoners only. I see no reason why we shouldn’t gather the prisoners in one place and have the most guards posted there instead.”

Then, he does the most unexpected thing. He challenges your power. “With all due respect, your highness but shouldn’t Prince Taehyung, the soon-to-be King be handling these matters?”

“The King and Queen rule side by side. There’s been precedents where the Queen handled the matter of the country while the King lead the army to victory in their conquest to broaden their influence.” You stare the lord down, it becomes clear that he’s only an ally when his position is not threatened and when the puny little princess needed a help to make peace with the mountain people who only served as a nuisance to the political interest of the nation.

“Her highness is indeed correct,” he bows, “forgive me for stepping out of line just now.”

“You may go,” you inform, back to studying the papers but just before he walks through the doors, you call after him, “oh Lord Park, did you know my knight, Sir Jeon, was released from prison recently?”

The colors drain from his face as he stares back at you. No doubt, it is fear that ties his tongue and chills his bones. It is true that Taehyung had made the orders for Jungkook to be imprisoned but thinking back, it was Lord Park who informed you of the supposed letters from your brother. And it would be unlikely that he didn’t know your knight - that important of a person - was imprisoned in the tower in isolation.

Your threat is crystal clear as  you meet his stare.

“Y-yes, I’ve been told.” He leaves you a complexion whiter than the infamous lady-in-white you’ve been hearing the girls gossip about.

That should be enough of a warning. He’ll know better than to cross the future Queen next time.

[occultacademia]

Cis-Male Occultists

So I’ve never really trusted white cis male occultists. I know that probably sounds awful but I really DO try to give them the benefit of the doubt, but they all end up being exactly the same.

A great example is this... the other day someone posted on a page I’m a part of asking if there was anyone in his area. My friend commented for me and tagged me in it, so I invited him to a group chat for witches and occultists and then he started messaging.

Right off the bat, I mean like THREE messages in he’s already asking me out for drinks. Not to mention the fact that on Facebook I display publicly that I am married. I politely responded that I dont really meet up with males alone because it makes me uncomfortable and I prefer to meet in groups but we can’t really do that just now because of the pandemic.

He responded with some sort of remark about how he understands but that all the bad guys in the world are ruining it for genuinely good guys like him. I ignored it and we kept talking. I mentioned not wanting to practice Goetia until I knew enough and he bragged about studying it for 10 years. I see that SO much from occultists. They have the ego the size of Trump tower. Speaking of Trump... the dude was NOT left leaning at all. He was posting anti-BLM and anti-liberal content on his page. At one point he posted a “joke” about how a woman asked why he grabbed her butt and he said it’s because he’s a “dirty bl*ck m*nkey”. I was like, WOAH. But then I was like oh maybe he is a POC and that’s just the language he uses, but NO. My friend says that he sent her a link to his YouTube page, so I click it and this guy is whiter than Wonder Bread. Not to mention very southern and VERY redneck, like KKK redneck... all his videos show his enormous ego too. This guy thinks he’s God or something.

Anyway, I start talking about how I really don’t like Aleister Crowley because he gives me major white supremist vibes, and he’s all pretending to agree with me and mentions that AC left his “baby-girl” and he can’t support that. I’m like- bruh I could care less about his relationships and more about the fact that he was a racist my dude.

And then the guy insists AGAIN that we meet up and that his “office” has room enough for a group. I said no can do because of corona. He dropped it. At some point in the convo he started getting REALLY creepy after I mentioned I’m anemic and he says he wants to keep my hands “toasty” because his hands are like fire and he did it for girls he had in the past. YALL I WAS VOMITING IN MY MOUTH. I literally just responded “lol” and then blocked him and removed him from the group. And then of course he goes on a white male rampage hissy fit and gets himself banned from all the local groups he was in by commenting this...

[thetomorrowshow]

Mutually Beneficial Ch. viii

First  -  Previous  -  Next

Recommended listening: George Martin - Pepperland Laid Waste

Tw: Crying, Deceit, blood, like lots of it, descriptions of injuries, ya boi Roman’s in a lot of pain, mild panic

-

Logan hadn't left the kitchen since they'd gotten back. Patton had been hopping from room to room, bursting into tears at random, nervously grinning and cracking jokes otherwise.

Logan knew he had feelings—much as he liked to deny it—but Patton's reaction made him doubt that he actually did. After all, someone worried for their friends didn't just sit at a table, taking the daily notes and reading. It was troubling, but definitely a matter for another time.

For the fourth time in the past hour, Patton sidled into the kitchen. For the fifth time in the past hour, he opened the fridge.

“The contents haven't changed, Patton,” Logan said absently. Looking up, he saw Patton's face crumpling.

“When will they be back, Logan?”

Logan sighed. Patton hadn't yet asked outright, a sure sign of his growing distress. “They said twenty-four hours, remember? It'll be any minute now.”

Instead of responding, Patton opened his arms. Logan reluctantly stood from the table. He'd found himself on the receiving end of Morality's affections one too many times, but allowed the Side to envelop him in a hug. He smiled a little despite himself, and patted his back as Patton sniffled into his shoulder.

“Roman?”

Logan spun around at Patton's exclamation; through the kitchen doorway he could see Roman in a heap on the floor, Deceit doubled-over beside him. “Roman,” he muttered, his feet moving without instruction into the living room.

“Never . . . again,” Deceit gasped. He straightened, his face flushed from exertion. “If there's a  . . . a next time, Remus is helping.” Before either could question him, he sank out.

“Where did he go?” Patton wondered aloud. Logan was already on his knees, turning Roman over so his face was visible. Roman groaned as Logan took in the swath of bruising on the right side of his face, swelling that eye shut.

“Roman?” he asked clearly. “Can you hear me?”

“Mm-hm,” came the mumbled response. “So. So loud.”

“Can I hug him?” asked Patton, inching closer.

Roman flinched, apparently involuntarily. Logan filed the movement away. “Maybe not . . . not just. Yet,” Roman grimaced, finally opening the eye that was able to open.

“Is Virgil in similar condition?” Logan asked suddenly. Roman's eye met his. In a brief moment, Logan interpreted fear, pain, and something akin to . . . distrust? Then Roman looked away, ending the moment.

“We've got to save him, Lo,” Patton said, gripping his arm with surprising strength. Logan looked up at him. Determination dominated his features. Patton was right. Virgil was likely worse injured, even. He nodded agreement and also stood. Roman needed treatment, of course, and he felt uneasy abandoning him, but the side was certainly responsive. He knew how to take care of himself, he reasoned.

“I'll go make a couple sandwiches,” Patton said, 'dad mode' kicking in. Logan followed him into the kitchen.

“Do you think he'll be fine alone?” Logan asked thoughtfully, genuinely wanting to hear a second opinion. Patton shrugged, getting peanut butter from an overhead cabinet.

“We need to save Virge,” he said simply. At those words, Logan recalled something Virgil himself had said.

“Correct me if I'm wrong—which I'm not—but didn't Virgil not want to be rescued?”

Patton shrugged again. “He wants to. He just doesn't know it yet.”

Logan frowned. None of this seemed right. Why was Deceit keeping Virgil locked up, and why didn't he want to come back? Was it a case of something similar to Stockholm Syndrome?

Or was he asking the wrong question?

What proof did they have that Deceit was keeping Virgil imprisoned?

“Patton, we need to rethink this—”

“Too late, Lo. Let's go.” Patton threw the butter-knife into the sink and dropped the two sandwiches into a Ziploc.

“I'm simply suggesting—”

Patton pushed past him and into the living room. “Roman, we're—Roman!”

Logan wheeled around, the second time a Roman-related outburst had caused him to do so. Roman had dragged himself to the front door and was leaning against it, his arms flung out. Sweat poured down his pale face, which was whiter than his clothes—which, for the first time, Logan noticed were stained with blood.

“You can't come with us,” Patton said.

“Don't . . . don't . . . want. . . .” Roman gasped. “Stay. . . .”

Something was very wrong here. Alarm bells were clanging a warning in Logan's head. Sure, so many things about this scene were wrong, but something in Roman's wide eye. Something in the way he was holding himself. Something in the bloodstains that were spreading as he watched. Something serious had happened to Roman—something that had caused his light to go out. He was clearly more injured than he was trying to appear.

“Patton, wait,” Logan interrupted the steadily growing argument between the two. Patton turned pleading eyes on him.

“Logan, Virgil is—”

“Patton. Wait.” Patton fell quiet. “Roman, may I help you stand?”

“You—you won't . . . leave?”

“I give you my word.” When Roman didn't protest further, just dropped his head wearily, Logan approached him. He reached under his arm and around his back, freezing when he heard a very un-princely whimper. “Are you all right?”

Roman grimaced. “Jus' . . . make it quick, S-Specs.”

Logan obeyed, pulling him up as fast as possible. A yell escaped Roman's tightly pursed lips.

“Patton, get a kitchen stool.”

Patton hesitated, looking between the now-unblocked door and the kitchen, obviously torn now that his path was clear.

“Patton.”

The Side made his decision, scurrying into the kitchen. He came back almost instantly, hefting the stool under one arm.

“Put it down right here.” As soon as the seat was in place, Logan pushed Roman out of the awkward hug-thing they were in. “It's right behind you, Roman. Sit down slowly. It doesn't have a back, so don't fall.”

As soon as Roman was eased onto the stool, Logan turned to Patton, not quite letting go of the prince. “Unbutton his top,” he instructed, moving behind Roman. “Then we'll pull it off.”

“Take me . . . take me out . . . f-for dinnerrr first-t,” slurred Roman. Both ignored him.

“There's only a clasp, at the neck,” Patton supplied. “It's undone.”

Logan stared blankly at the dirt-stained back of Roman's uniform, trying to gauge how painful it would be. “All right, over his head. Three. Two. One.”

“It's sticking!” fretted Patton as Roman groaned.

“Stop!” Logan said. “Slower. Pull it away from him, okay?”

Patton nodded, looking a little ill. “Patton?” Logan said. He waited until his eyes were met before continuing. “Everything will be okay.” Patton nodded again. “Now. Let us—'get this bread', as they say.”

“Mm,” Roman said. “Tha' . . . tha's not right.”

Logan ignored him. He watched closely as Patton peeled away Roman's top, stopping at every wince from the creative Side.

“Now we'll lift it. Roman, can you raise your arms?”

Roman obliged, slowly stretching his fingers toward the ceiling. Just as slowly, Logan and Patton lifted the uniform off.

Logan literally cringed at the sight of the prince's back. He couldn't see a single inch of pale skin, just a purple and black mass, cracking with dried blood. He immediately assumed a whip had been taken to the back, but upon closer inspection, he could make out a few bruises shaped like miniature chain links.

“Roman, this is horrifying,” he said before he could stop himself. “Did Deceit do this?” Roman didn't answer, just let his head flop back into Logan's open hands. “Patton, you should see this.”

“Uh, no, Lo,” Patton said nervously. “You need to see this.”

That was odd. The tone of voice Patton used was the one he'd come to associate with spiders and other things that scared the moral Side. He gently let Roman's head drop and started to shift to his front, eyes still fixed on the bruising. Possibly Deceit had covered the creative Side's chest in spiders, which, while unexpected, would—

Ah.

“Cloth. Wet,” Logan said, his voice almost dangerously low. Patton sped off into the kitchen.

“I . . . I didn' wan' . . . you t-to see,” Roman stuttered.

Again, Logan ignored him. His chest was soaked in blood, spilling from dozens of cuts, but—did those cuts spell something?

“Here's the cloth.”

“Bandages. Ro's room. Top shelf.”

Patton seemed glad to have a reason leave again. In all honesty, Logan wished he could, too. He wasn't about to let anyone else do this job, though.

A sharp intake of breath greeted the first touch of the cloth, which was colder than Logan would have preferred. One glance at Roman's tilted-up face, however, told him that the gasp was caused by pain, not temperature. He gritted his teeth and kept dabbing at the cuts. Roman's hands flew up in protest, trying to push Logan's hand holding the dripping cloth away.

“Roman, must I restrain you?”

Roman's head shot straight up; his open eye darted around the room frantically before landing on Logan. “N-no, please.”

Logan held his gaze and nodded. It was clear this was a trigger—and, judging by the light green bruises on the Side's wrists, something that had recently been an affliction.

He moved on from the subject, focusing on cleaning the wounds. They definitely spelled something. Was that a D? And an M?

Roman didn't try and fight his ministrations now, but his hands were curled into balls at his sides, as if he was holding himself back.

“I've got them,” Patton called from the staircase that led to their rooms. His head popped around the corner of the doorway. “Do you need them now?”

Logan took a step back, blood dripping from the cloth as well as from Roman, staining the carpet in little pools. He could make out letters here and there, but blood was welling up again. He swiped the cloth over the letters once more, and for a split second, it was all there, completely visible and legible. His heart nearly stopped at those words, those words that now seemed so obvious, and he wondered how on earth he had not been able to read them previously.

“Logan? What is it?”

Logan quickly schooled his features and met Patton's eyes. “Nothing,” he lied. “Just . . . many cuts. Could you get the rubbing alcohol and some cotton or a clean cloth? The bathroom cabinet.”

Even as he dabbed the disinfectant on the cuts, even as Roman cried out at the stinging, even as Patton rubbed the prince's head, murmuring words of comfort, Logan couldn't force the image of those words out of his head. They were seared into his memory, flashing behind his eyelids.

Later, when Roman was finally asleep in bed, and Patton was in a chair at his bedside, Logan stood at the bathroom sink, watching the water run pink as he held his hands unmoving under the flow. He looked up at the mirror, intending to see if there were any specks of red on his face, but all he could see was those words, welling with blood, carved sickeningly neatly into human skin.

Don't come for him again.

-

TAGLIST (let me know if you wish to be added or removed): @stop-it-anxiety @i-can-get-extra-with-my-ships @kai-the-person @bl00scl00s @shitpost-sides @charakitcat @ainsleyf @sandersstuffsblog @ginnyfox617 @enragedbees

[rowdownthrowdown]

me, *worried about wearing a backpack into Walmart in case they think I'm stealing*

also me, *is whiter than Wonder Bread*

Yeah okay I'll be fine

[anthropologysydney]

Ch 14 Fieldwork: Power

Make a list of all the relationships and interactions you have in the course of a day: with family, friends, teachers, students, and others. After making a list, answer the following questions for each relationship.

 1. Describe the way power is balanced in each relationship you experience or observe.

Sunday- I stayed at Josh’s ouse, went to work, came back to his house.

Josh (who I’m dating)- dating so we have even power.

He’s societally more powerful since he’s male and I’m not, but when in public, I do a lot more of the speaking like ordering stuff, asking for directions, etc. He owns his own business and I’m a poor college student, so he definitely has more financial power than me, but I’m in college and he never went so I’ll be more financially powerful than him sooner or later.

Politically, we negotiate a lot. He likes to use words that are disparaging or dismissive of marginalized communities, and I hate it. But I heard him catch himself and stop from saying the R word to his brother in law yesterday so he’s adopting it into his whole life not just when I’m around. I negotiate by trying to not make a mess everywhere even though that’s just how I get comfortable :/

We established all negotiations through a lot of talking and texting. More comes from him through texts than face to face and as a psych major I can’t help but wonder why men tend to be like that but oh well- it’s what makes him comfortable and works for now. To change the power dynamics, so that he’s communicating with me without me having to lose my mind first, I’ve started acknowledging and praising when he does change the things I’ve complained about. This positive reinforcement has been yielding results as I notice he’s been more open to communicating without a drawn outpreface.

@ Work

Coworkers- I have slightly more power because I've worked there 4+ years and most of everyone else has been there maybe 2 years if not 5 months

Power at y job tends to be organized by job title. Associates are the least powerful because, while they literally facilitate the operation of the store, they’re paid minimum wage, and often bad managers have their free reign to openly disrespect them. Trainers (my job) are associates who know enough about the entire store, to train new employees. We have slightly more power because we know everyone, we work everywhere, we tend to be likeable/ well-liked people, and we get paid slightly more than associates (but this also varies along with seniority). Shift Leads are half-manager positions. They get paid $14.50 an hour instead ofa salary, and they get management privileges and responsibilities like opening/closing the store, managing the money, some scheduling duties, etc. Then there are Associate Managers, actual mangers that get asalary. They are pretty powerful because they can write people up, choose who’s on the schedule, give people free food, etc. The most powerful position at my job is the General Manager who hires and fires everybody and looks over everything.

In this hierarchy anyone with eyes can clearly see the intersections of race, gender, and citizenship at Panera Bread. Many associates who have worked there longer than myself (probably a decade), only speak Spanish and have never been  promoted to trainer as far as I understand. Also, none of the managers at the store speak Spanish, so they rely on anyone that does to be their middle person with these associates. As far as race is concerned, Panera Bread is the perfect example of the Snowaps analogy. There are so many employees of color throughout the entire country, but as you get higher up, the employees are whiter and whiter. There is a degree of diversity throughout the Associate Manager level, but in my 4 years, I’ve met three General Managers of stores that were not white men. One white woman, one black man, and one man of Hispanic descent. I’ve never ever seen a non-white District Manager (1 step above General), not have I seen a non-white Regional Manager (1step above District). Most of my coworkers are black, or Latina, but every single person in management, or as a shift lead at my store, is currently a white man. One of the two shift leads became so after quitting three times within the year before!!! So, yeah in the corporation that is Panera Bread here are some intersections of race and gender and citizenship because who do you know that’s not a white man that can quit and comeback to their job 3 times in one year then come back to an undeserved promotion?

So negotiations-wise, I’ve negotiated a base level of respect from everyone over the years. I’m one of the longest-remaining employees and I’m a really good person to have on your side, so I’ve negotiated myself into being seen as like a manager, but without devoting 50+ hours to being inside a Panera Bread at all hours of the night and day. I give everyone I work with the same amount of respect, and they return that energy!

I think the key to changing the power dynamics throughout the company is to ask employees about workplace satisfaction. These issues trickle down to employees coming in sick, (4 people have lost consciousness there while working), employees harboring anger and resentment for other members of the staff, and the very best employees quitting either from being disrespected or undervalued. Once those people at the bottom of the hierarchy have agency, then power should be more evenly distributed.

[optimusprimeagainstonision]

Danielle Cohn... Stop Playing These Games

Hello everyone, Optimus/Sherlock Prime here. I apologize for the lack of posts on my blogs, I’m at South Dakota in my grandmother’s house, on my mother’s chromebook at the time of writing this, but something came up in my feed that I felt like needs to be addressed. 

Danielle Cohn…. Now I know what you’re all probably wondering “Optimus, you run an anti-Onision blog, why are you talking about a teen girl?” Well, that is a good question, first off, she’s rubbing me the wrong way, I don’t know why but she does. Second, she’s a young girl in LA acting like she’s on a mid 2000’s MTV reality show, like Jersey Shore (damn I am old). Thirdly, her actions as of recently need to be discussed, bit let me give a quick rundown of who Miss. Cohn is. 

Danielle Cohn is a young influencer who got famous on Musical.ly (now Tik Tok), for her lipsyncs, dancing, and sometimes live performances. She also got famous for lying about her age, see, she claims she’s 15, but due to contradicting evidence, records from years ago when she was in child beauty pageants as a contestant, to a video of a former classmate of Danielle’s showing her school picture in a yearbook when they were in fourth grade. But due to recent events, Danielle got exposed for actually being 13. Now, let’s talk about her recent stunt. 

Around 3 months ago, in May of 2019, Danielle and her then boyfriend at the time Mikey Tua, an Instagram model, announced to the internet that they were having a baby. At the time, Mikey and his parents thought Danielle was 15, Mikey is 17, this will come to play later, but bear with me. Anyways, Danielle and Mikey released a 4 part series on their pregnancy journey, they told their parents, who rightfully were concerned and pissed off, they went to a “gynecologist” for an ultrasound when in reality they went to a dentist’s office, and then finally the grand finale was the gender reveal party. Then Danielle and Mikey revealed that the pregnancy was fake, it was all a huge prank. Oh um excuse me a “social experiment” meant to raise awareness on the dangers and risks of teen pregnancies. 

Needless to say, the Internet was pissed. But that’s not all, after this stunt, Danielle’s real age was exposed to Mikey’s parents. Now, I have nothing against them, they are lovely people and they acted as parents by cutting off their son’s relationship with Danielle. Danielle and Mikey were heartbroken over not being together, and Mikey tried to file for emancipation from his parents. 

What is emancipation? That’s a good question, we all know the word ‘emancipation’ due to the Emancipation Proclamation that President Lincoln made to end slavery during the Civil War. In legal terms, emancipation is when a minor wants to be legally recognized as an adult by the state they live in and want to no longer be in their parent’s/guardian’s custody. In order to earn this they need to prove they can provide for themselves, make money and hold a job, and be a contributing member of society. 

Now this is bad for Mikey if he was granted emancipation from his mom and dad, if he stayed with Danielle, and he turned 18, and Danielle turned 14, he’s breaking the age of consent law. In California, the age of consent is 18, and Mikey if caught, would have to go to trial as an adult, since he’d be seen as an adult legally by the state. And if proven in a court of law (unlike Twitter’s kangaroo courts) that sexual intercourse happened between Mikey and Danielle, if the courts could prove that they had sex, regardless it was consensual or not. Mikey would be forced to sign into the registry and be a labeled sex offender. And that ruins lives if wrongfully convicted. 

Mikey later ran away to Danielle whose mother named Jen helped him hide in a hotel when they were found by the LAPD on July 3rd. 

Now onto the most recent event involving Danielle and Mikey, Danielle seemed to get over the forced breakup quick because she seemingly hooked up with a boy named Diego, I don’t know his age, but I’m guessing he’s 15 or 16. Anyways, he went on the record to say he and Danielle were not dating, but were just collaborating together for a music video. Him and Mikey are good friends, and hang out a lot. Danielle uploaded a video to YouTube where she and her “friends” (I’m guessing they’re either paid or her yeswomen) played a game called “kiss or diss”, where they choose a handsome looking guy and see if they either want to kiss (smash) or diss (pass). Danielle said Diego’s and Mikey’s names and said “Diss.” 

Mikey and Diego were not happy. They wanted Danielle to stop bringing them up in her videos and to not say their names. They were together on an Instagram livestream and were telling her to stop lying and manipulating her fans. Mikey proceeded to call Danielle on his cell, put her on speaker and him and Diego confronted her. She reacted negatively, doubled down and then said to Diego, “Go back to your own country.” 

Now here’s my thoughts on this, all these players involved in this game are young teens who don’t know any better. Here’s what I’ll say to all three of them. 

Danielle: You need to apologize, stop being the victim on Twitter, own up to your mistakes and be a big girl. You’re 13, when I was 13, I was handling my problems like a champ. I owned up to my mistakes, I said sorry. Saying “Go back to your country” to a boy who is Hispanic or an immigrant is inherently racist and hateful. Don’t claim you’re Spanish to get away with it, you’re whiter than Wonder Bread. Own up to your shit, and put the phone down and go back to class. 

Mikey: I know you’re going through a lot. You found your girlfriend lied to you about her age, lied to her fans, she lied to your parents. If you go through with the emancipation, you better look out for yourself, because if you and Danielle do have sex and you turn 18, you’d be going to jail for statutory. I’m proud you realized how much of a manipulative brat she is. But you need to be more careful, your stunt with the fake pregnancy is not okay, teen pregnancy is not a joke and it has ruined lives, for both the parents and the children. 

Diego: I don’t know that much about you, but you seem like a cool kid, thank you for standing up and calling out Danielle for her racism. 

Sorry this one is super long, I had a lot of time to plan this one out and I have a lot of time to write this down. 

[retro-roulette]

Retro Roulette #69: Quest for the Shaven Yak Starring Ren Hoëk & Stimpy (Game Gear, 1993)

Yes, it’s that number. Nice. Moving on.

Wait...what? I’m reviewing what now?

Well then. There are a small handful of games based on The Ren & Stimpy Show, and to my knowledge, they’re all unique - none were released on multiple consoles or whatever (sorta like what I mentioned about Aladdin a few weeks back). 

For the uninitiated, the Shaven Yak is a key figure of Yak Shaving Day, an important holiday in the Ren & Stimpy universe. You see, on Yak Shaving Day, you nail diapers to the wall, fill up a pair of boots with cole slaw, and leave a big bowl of lather by the sink, so that when the yak comes to your house in his magic canoe, he can shave. Everyone clear on this? Okay, good.

At the start of each level, you can choose to play as either Ren or Stimpy. They’re pretty similar, but they have slightly different move sets - they each have a projectile attack, and with Ren’s are thrown, Stimpy’s are barfed up. They also each have a unique special move (Ren has a super high jump, Stimpy has a weird ground pound attack), though the majority of what you’ll do is the same regardless of character. Eventually you’ll end up in menacingly-named places like this:

Wonder what the Blacker Than Black Forest actually looks like? It’s gotta be just, like...*so* black, right? Well, behold:

Ugh, taking photos of a Game Gear game is the worst. I’m just gonna stop doing it. 

All of the game’s levels look more or less like this, whether they’re in the "Blacker than Black Forest” or the “Stinking Wet Bayou, with” One might be whiter due to being ‘icy’ or the like, but this is really what they all look like. Crude trees, basic platforms, not a lot else. It does look pretty nice in motion, to its credit - considering the source material, it’s the right amount of cartoon-ish.

With the environments as plain as they are, it’s not surprising that the gameplay is pretty bland as well. There’s mostly just a bunch of platforming, along with a handful of enemies that can either easily be defeated or flat-out ignored. Save for the boss battles (which, as per early 90s tradition, can be needlessly cruel), there isn’t really a lot of challenge or excitement to this.

Thankfully, this is still a Ren & Stimpy game, so at least some of the blandness is covered up by goofy weirdness - your health appears to be measured in nipples, you can pick up bread for use as a weapon (it might be powdered toast, but I’m not certain), and picking up small TVs restore your health. As previously mentioned, Stimpy pukes up hairballs as a primary attack. The game over screen features an argument between the game’s two stars, who note that it’s just a game and you can just play it again. There are a lot of nice touches like that.

Ren & Stimpy had, for better or worse, a measurable impact on the weird idiot that I am today. While this has the same lack of depth that a lot of weird licensed platformers do, I still kind of enjoyed it for its commitment to the dumb, esoteric nature of the show. I’ve certainly spent a half hour on worse things. When all was said and done, though, I never did find the shaven yak. It still haunts me.

Next week’s game is our 70th - holy crap! We’re celebrating by visiting a very uncelebrated game in an otherwise celebrated series. Should be a good one. See you then!

[inhumansforever]

doc what is it you do n't like about the current x-men books? also what is the autism era??

Oh.  Well, first off let me preface that I don’t feel entitled to anything in regards to comics.  I’ve been reading X-Man since I was a little kid but that by no mean offers some special say on how the comics should be.  

That said, it feels as though the direction White and Rosenberg are taking X-Men in is just not at all for me.  Uncanny is a stealth Cyclops/Wolverine team-up title oversaturated with hackneyed man-angst and recycled plot lines.   It’s whiter than wonder bread yet continues to bank on the righteousness of oppressed minorities. 

Less prominent characters are used as cannon fodder (almost always characters who were POC).  Blindfold’s suicide was handled terribly.  What has been done to Anole is a slap in the face to the progress LGTQ+ characters have made in superhero comics over the last decade (the same goes for Karma).  

It’s a train wreck.  

But again, this is just my opinion.  I’m a fan, not the authority.  

Chuck Austin wrote Uncanny X-Men back in the 90′s.  He seems like a nice enough guy, but was clearly much more interested in writing porn (which is what he ended up ultimately doing).  His run on Uncanny remains thus far my least favorite of all time.

[jaytttodd]

This is so funny but I think the reason people say Tim is some white boy, but don't say that about Jason is bc it's canon that Tim is like extra extra white. Like there are several comic panels where people comment on his whiteness.

I love headcanons where white/ racially ambiguous characters are well... not white. But Tim is not the guy.

Meanwhile Jason has been written and drawn as racially ambiguous.

Even back in his earlier characterization, when trying to figure out who Jasons biological mother is, it seemed plausible (in comics. This is canon) that an Asian woman could be his bio mom. Which is at least something to him not being white.

Either way Tim is white boy through and through and Jason is like. White boy but he's not wonder bread white...

Also this isn't me trying to say Jason is written this way enough to count as canon in rebirth/or overall. I'm not trying to get brownie points for his character. I'm brown. I want actual characters of color (DAMIAN, DUKE, CASS) to be acknowledged here. But for the point of Tim being perceived as "whiter" than Jason. It has come up. I don't want to give writers credit where they didn't actually do shit so that's not what this is.