Daily OpusEverything I write is freely rebloggable. Just keep the source and tell people about my books :D [Until I decide otherwise, my pronouns are Ze/Hir/Hirself. As in "Ze went to the shops to get hir medication hirself". Thank you for the respect.]
tumblr people love this. reddit people love this. 4chan scum loves this. there is just something intrinsically hilarious about none pizza with left beef. bless
I hope this never dies. I hope None Pizza with Left Beef will go down in Internet history alongside such legends as the Rickroll and He-Man’s rendition of “What’s Going On”.
i just laughed for a minute straight
why
Always reblog none pizza with left beef
I shouted out loud “none pizza with left beef” because I was so overjoyed to see it again so unexpectedly
We should be more pro-active or we’ll see more of such sad fates of honest people.
And the utterly ironic thing is I’ve seen repeated tumblr posts of that iconic photo absolutely slagging the shit out of Peter Norman as “lol white guy so uncomfortable” “Why the fuck isn’t he supporting them”, etc etc.
As an Australian this post surprised me. I knew none of the above.
People need to learn this shit so they can emulate it - this is what it means to stand in solidarity with people; it tends to be a difficult, quiet thing that costs you, and yet it’s the right thing to do.
a character’s favorite vehicle, technology, coat, etc.
a pleasant night
hair, skin tone, clothing, etc. of a good person
undisturbed water of a lake
the case/container of something important
valued wood, furniture, art
velvet
Think to burn, to infect, to bleach vs. to enrich, to protect, to be of substance.
*slams reblog like the fist of an angry god*
the politics of light and dark are everywhere in our vocabulary…psa to writers: subvert this, reveal whiteness and lightness as sometimes artificial and violent, and darkness as healing, the unknown as natural
“The truth finds more comfort in the dark”
“The light can blind as easily as the dark conceals. The dark can protect as easily as the light guides. Neither are pure good nor evil, pure chaos nor order. The light and dark just are.”
people aren’t stuck in poverty because they’re dumb, like I know it’s a really hard pill to swallow but no one is poverty stricken because they deserve it no one is poverty stricken because they placed themselves there no one is poverty stricken out of choice
W*ndigoag/w*ndigo are sacred Algonquian spirits that have spread to other Anishinaabe cultures. They aren’t worshiped or whatever, they are feared.
They’re the physical embodiments of evil, the result of a person falling into the trap of greed and cruelty, usually in the form of cannibalism. Our fear not only stems from the spirits and the danger they pose to others, but also their implications and the constant reminder that anyone can become a monster if they allow themselves to.
They are not bipedal deer and I have no idea where that concept came from. Most traditional depictions show them as humanoid giants made of ice, usually with the body of the person they came from encased inside.
In some stories, they’re killed by people, usually via fire. In others, they can only be killed by luring them to a body of water and getting the attention of a water spirit to fight it.
There’s very, very few stories where the person can be saved. The transformation into a w*ndigo is not a reversible one, and the only real way to save someone from that existence is to free them with death.
We censor their names because, traditionally, we’re taught not to say them out loud in case we get the attention of one or summon one. This is especially important during winter or at night.
They are not benign spirits. They are not kind. They are not rational. They are evil and cruel, and their only desires center around killing and eating. They’re as rational and logical as a wild raccoon in the late stages of rabies.
You cannot work with them. They can’t be bound, and they definitely can’t be bought or sold. Do not trust any spirit who claims to be a w*ndigo and do not trust any spirit worker who tries to sell you one.
W*ndigoag are Algonquian and Anishinaabe spirits. Algonquian people are the authorities on them, other Anishinaabe people less so. Non-Anishinaabe Natives cannot say that appropriation of w*ndigoag is okay because that isn’t their culture and it’s definitely not their decision to make. You cannot give someone permission to use something that isn’t yours.
The use of w*ndigoag in non-Native media is appropriation. The only exception to this is in when the creators work with Algonquian people to make respectful and accurate depictions. You’ll be very hard pressed to find cases of this.
W*ndigoag are not cryptids because they are sacred spirits. Abrahamic angels are not cryptids. Japanese yokai are not cryptids. Vodou loa are not cryptids. Respect indigenous beliefs as legitimate spirituality instead of reducing our cultures down to bastardized stories.
If you aren’t Anishinaabe, you cannot be “wendigokin”. Appropriation of indigenous spirituality isn’t suddenly okay because your ~soul~ is an indigenous spirit. You are not entitled to our cultures or spiritual beliefs. Jfc.
“Wendigocore” is also bullshit, what the fuck is wrong with you all? Our sacred spirituality is not your ugly ass aesthetic.
(Left those uncensored because it’s a summer afternoon and I want people in those tags to see this. Fuck off.)
Anishinaabe people are not obligated to share our SACRED STORIES with outsiders in order for them to be respected. We don’t want you to make your depictions of w*ndigoag in your stories more accurate. We just want you to leave our cultures alone for once.
Now please stop sending me messages about w*ndigoag. I understand you all just want to learn but I am so fucking tired. I’ve answered these questions dozens of times and I need a break.
Don’t start discourse on this post. I am not in the mood for it.
If any Algonquian or other Anishinaabe people have corrections, hmu.
So much of managing your mental health is just…learning to parent yourself like you’re a toddler
Like, “Honey, it’s 10 pm and you’ve been up since four in the morning, no wonder you’re emotional. Plus all you’ve had to eat today was three chocolate truffles and a half a protein drink. Make yourself some scrambled eggs and peas, you can even put them in separate bowls so they don’t touch. Then go to bed. You can do more fun things tomorrow, but first you need to sleep. Okay?”
.
In the old days we didn’t call this managing mental health, we called this managing being an adult.
.
Interesting, that.
See, I’m five years into adulthood. I have a college degree (a few in fact), a car, insurance payments, a job, yada yada. I ostensibly joined the Grown Up Club a few years back.
But, having grown up with a number of undiagnosed disorders and mental illnesses, I never learned a healthy style of self-talk.
If I’m honest, between depression and anxiety, the way I grew up talking to myself was abusive. I’m not kidding; if the things I thought to and about myself were said aloud to someone else, it would be considered verbal and emotional abuse.
So this idea of treating myself like a small child? With the same loving firmness and compassion?
This is a radical idea for me.
This is me learning to stop those abusive thought patterns, and talk to myself in a kinder, healthier way.
And it doesn’t have much to do with adulthood. I know adults who have treated themselves unkindly this way for many years. A healthy relationship with yourself doesn’t just sprout once you’re an adult; you have to develop it.
Those are my thoughts anyway. I hope they make sense.
Honestly, if you see an angel that’s all eyes and wings and wheels of fire, you should be worried. Like, not because it’s going to hurt you or anything, but because scripturally, angels invariably appear to ordinary people in human form. In general, they only show their inhuman true forms to prophets – which means if you’re seeing them like that, they come bearing responsibility.
I woke up today with the phrase “spooky scary seraphim” in my head today, looks like we’re on the same wavelength.
Hey btw, another worldbuilding thing: You can, and actually should have weird and impractical cultural things. They’re not inherently unrealistic, for as long as you address the realistic consequences as well.
Let’s say you’ve got a city where there’s tame white doves everywhere. They’re not pests, they’re regarded as sacred, holy protectors of the city, and the whole city cares for them and feeds them like they’re pets. They’re so tame because it’s a social taboo to hurt or scare one. Nice pretty doves :)
Then someone points out that even if they’re not seen as pests, doesn’t having a completely unchecked feral pigeon population - that not only isn’t being culled, but actively fed and cared for - mean that there would be bird shit absolutely all over the place?
A part of you wants to say no, because these are your nice, pretty doves. To explain that there’s a reason why they’re not shitting all over the place, maybe they’re super-intelligent and specifically bred and trained to not shit all over the place. The logistics of how, exactly, could anyone breed and train a flock of feral birds go unaddressed.
An even worse solution would be to not have those birds, editing them out of the world. No, they spark joy, you can’t just toss them out!
Now, consider: Yes, yes they would, but the city also has an extensive public sanitation service that’s occupied 90% of the time by cleaning bird shit off of everything. One of the most common last names in the area actually translates to “one who scrapes off dove shit”, and it’s a highly respected occupation. And thanks to the sheer necessity of constantly regularly cleaning everything, the city enjoys a much higher standard of cleanliness, and less public health issues caused by poor public sanitation.
The doves do protect the city. By shitting fucking everywhere.
