Helluva boss the only fandom where two teenagers forced to marry and have a baby is only seen as a big deal for one of them not both…and it’s the man who owns all of the property and didn’t have to carry a pregnancy. And the woman has a shitty attitude so she can just die.

Stella really is like an incel message board come to life, she only exists to make a man suffer and consume his money. When “red pilled” men create a caricature of ‘femoids’ in their minds to rage at, she’s what comes to mind. And there are stans genuinely arguing that “women like Stella exist” no they do not, there aren’t women out there who purely exist to hurt mens feelings make them suffer, laugh evilly and consume money for no reason. The courtroom scene is probably just going to be a wish fulfilment fantasy of punishing a cartoon stand in of Amber Heard, whose situation was much more complicated than “she’s a bitch who hurt poor innocent Johnny because she’s evil”

Thank you for putting this into words. You nailed it.

Helluva Boss is like an incel forum full of "red pilled" losers had a baby with a faux-progressive yaoi fic on AO3. It's as bizarre as it is horrifying and it's doing wrecking ball levels of damage to the way its audience views the world.

Okay Roier's RP has me fucked up so I wrote some angst. It's my job, I can't help it. It's too short to post on my ao3 so I'm shoving it here

Based on Cellbit's 2/4/24 stream :))

There’s something wrong with his husband.

If Cellbit knows one thing after being returned to Quesadilla Island, it’s that there’s something very wrong with his husband. At first, Cellbit thought that Roier was just mad at him for staying on Egg Island. Now, though, Cellbit is sure it’s something else entirely.

The first thing Cellbit notices is Roier’s posture, he’s holding his shoulders a little too high, back a little too straight. More than that, there’s a glint in his eyes that makes Cellbit uncomfortable. It’s the same look Cellbit sees reflected back at himself when he looks in the mirror, searching and analytical. A look that’s cold and the complete opposite of what Roier is at his core.

Roier’s gaze makes Cellbit feel observed, like a bug pinned to a board, like a lab experiment. It reminds Cellbit of how he felt when Cucurucho stared him down, the same cold gaze he sees in his nightmares.

Then he attacks Cellbit, bringing him so low that Cellbit is scared. Even in purgatory, even with their lives on the line, Roier had hesitated. He’d felt so bad that he’d spent the whole night when the green team was split apologizing. Now, Roier holds his sword lazily and laughs as Cellbit stumbles back to heal, stares directly into Cellbit’s wide and scared eyes and laughs.

He can’t stop thinking about it as they explore, the feeling of Roier’s eyes on him making his fur stand on end.

It’s set in stone when Roier mentions Bobby. He uses his son's death like a weapon, speaks of one of his deepest traumas with no hesitation. He doesn’t stumble over his words, there isn’t the familiar glint of a sadness in his eyes. Roier speaks Bobby’s name and his eyes are empty.

Cellbit barely suppresses a growl, ears pressing tight against his head and tail lashing behind him. His hand tightens around his sword and he takes a deep breath, running his tongue against his teeth to keep himself in line. Roier places a hand on Cellbit’s shoulder and Cellbit’s tail puffs up. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He laughs, higher than normal and tinged with an unfamiliar mania.

Cellbit holds back from sinking his teeth in Roier’s hand.

Roier, Pepito, and Richas move on. Cellbit follows, he doesn’t trust Roier to make a portal to get them back to spawn so he digs them out himself. He tries to joke, tries to keep the facade up. He thinks he does a good job, pretending in front of this caricature of his husband. They say goodbye, Cellbit tries to tell himself that he’s paranoid. He tries to push down the feeling, the itch of something wrong. He walks with Richas back to their little house and tucks the kid in for the night. He kisses his forehead and then hesitates as he’s pulling away.

“He was there, right Richas? Roier, I mean, he was there right?” Cellbit asks, voice breaking a little. Richas stares up at him with his big eyes and nods slowly, frowning a little. He’s old enough to recognize instability, he’s seen enough to know that Cellbit isn’t doing good. They both know that. Richas reaches up and hugs Cellbit tight. Cellbit hugs him back and presses his face in Richarlysons’ hair, choking down the tears that suddenly threaten to escape his eyes. His grip on his son tightens and he takes a shaky breath.

“Good, good. I’m glad. Just-” Cellbit shivers and pulls away gently, kissing Richas’ head again “-just needed to check” Cellbit mumbles and tucks the sheets in around his son again. He pats his head affectionately and smiles as genuinely as he can.

“Get some sleep, son” Cellbit says and sits down on his own bed. Richas nods and curls up, falling asleep quickly. He’s most likely exhausted after running around all day. Cellbit watches him for a bit, counting his breaths, afraid that when he looks away he’ll be back in Egg Island and Richas will be gone.

Cellbit knows he won’t sleep tonight, not when he can still feel Roier’s eyes on him like a physical thing. Not with the sound of his slightly-wrong laughter still echoing in his head.

He lays down and stares at the ceiling, he tries to convince himself it’s all in his head.

Cellbit might be losing his mind, but he’s always been too smart to lie to himself.

There’s something very wrong with his husband, and it scares him.

Entry 1: Discovery

I have discovered who I truly am.

I am a siren to the everyday man I cross paths with

I evoke wonder & fantasy in the everyday person’s mind.

On the surface level, you [may] wonder why an everyday/average person’s stare mean to me. It’s like having a secret superpower you have to hide, and can’t control when or where it works.

A few nights ago, I believed I wouldn’t be considered a siren since I’m not extroverted, popular, the center of attention or overt with my sexuality.

So, I learned about sirens from a historical perspective even though I could not imagine myself luring anyone psychologically. I’ve been doing it unintentionally!

[I have been a wallflower] for 19 years, until I realized the power of accepting my inner siren tendencies. I can command attention, but to transmute it into something tangible calls for confidence most women feel ashamed to wish for.

Becoming Unrealistically Realistic

2022 is the year for aesthetics, and so was 4,000 years ago. For a visual, I view copying someone else’s appearance at the bottom rung, aesthetics as a surface level facet,

a high maintenance image as the 2nd to last facet, a spectacle as a moment before a person’s aura (and 1st to last piece),

and finally an ensemble as an encore with many standing ovations. What do I mean by these scales?

Copycat appearance. There’s no imagination or creativity in copying another’s makeup, mannerisms, outfits or poses. Wearing makeup that doesn’t fit your features looks like you’re playing in mommy’s makeup, while copying the other modes make you look like a caricature.

Aesthetics. Aesthetics are like props in a stage setup. They only lie on the surface while being consistent in becoming one with your character is the spectacle.

High maintenance. Anyone can become high maintenance since it’s meaning is maintaining something highly frequently.

Spectacle. A spectacle is a dream figure that leaves a lasting impact on someone for a lifetime and generations afterwards. These people are highly imitated and romanticized; figures in history books.

Ensemble. Ensembles are just like spectacles, also ahead of their time/timeless.

How I’m Becoming Unrealistically Realistic:

Jumpsuits and long leg pants with pointed toe heels. Also, dresses with peep toe heels. Soft toe shoes cut off long legs. In renditions of goddesses being seen on the streets, they resemble average women, yet their legs and stature are abnormal to the point of looking humanoid.

Wedges. Wedges & platform heels give “goddess legs” to me faster than heels do since the arch of your feet mold to the incline of a wedge when heels exaggerate your arch, which looks artificial. From a distance, wedges blend into your height.

Unlimited confidence. Please identify yourself if you were knocked down pegs in your childhood for taking pride in your being because “that’s only for boys.”

Retiring my overly “innocent” behavior. I HATE I was conditioned to know going against the “golden rule” is bad and if anyone disagrees with me, I have to compromise or apologize for my beliefs. Also, assuming the best and nicest in every single person. Once I achieve my goals, the latter are side missions. Side note: I’m sure if I were in a community where feminine women were prized, I wouldn’t feel as forced to change.

Being able to tell myself, “no, wait,” instead of feeling entitled to buy a material item as soon as I see it.

View every occasion as an opportunity to become a “spectacle.” Being a spectacle does not mean wearing formal makeup and clothing as everyday wear.

On my Pinterest boards, I save douyin, webtoon and almost natural makeup looks because makeup collages I had on my mirror are too heavy on my eyes and don’t match my eye shape. Instead of wearing ball gowns out, think outfits you wouldn’t feel embarrassed wearing if you were on TV.

Luxury

Is

A

Feeling!!

A Good Day

SLIGHT INUMAKI TOGE X READER. FLUFF. (Taking requests 📲. I’m on my hands and knees waiting for someone to send one 🧎‍♀️)

“Hey (Y/N), what are you doing here?” Nobara asked as she found me on the campus staircase, sitting down. “Waiting for Yuuji, he texted me 2 hours ago that he was on his way back, and to wait for him at the stairs. We’re supposed to celebrate my birthday today, since we’ve both been busy. We haven’t really celebrated it… but today he’s on his wait and now we can finally do something!” I smiled. “Your birthday? It was almost 2 weeks ago though…” Nobara frowned. “I know, but we’ve been super busy. But now today’s the day! He should be here any minute,” I grinned. “Oh well…” Nobara said while dropping down next to me. “I don’t think he’ll be here… any time soon,” she said softly and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Huh?” I asked. “After the mission he and Megumi headed off to an arcade together. They had a stupid argument over that girl Mai’s cursed energy technique about who would have a better aim,” she sighed. “Huh? N-No… he texted me though,” I said softly, in disbelief. “It’s the truth (Y/N), besides I know Itadori told you that I was tagging along the assignment with them right?” she asked. “He… he did,” he said as I dropped my head in between my knees. “Plus, I just got here, wouldn’t that mean he should’ve gotten here too?” she asked. “Yeah…” I mumbled. “S-Sorry (Y/N), I guess I overstepped,” she said. “No it’s fine, thanks Nobara,” I said as I slowly stood up and began walking towards the exit. “Where are you going?” She asked. “To finally celebrate my birthday!” I said as I waved goodbye. “O-Ok…” I heard her say as I ran off.

I headed straight to the train station, “Why wallow in self pity if I can have a good day by myself?” I asked softly and boarded the train. I headed straight to the city to go find a bakery. As soon as I hopped off the train I walked towards Main Street to try the new bakery that opened up, “Ooh that croissant looks delicious,” I drooled. “Salmon,” I heard the family voice behind me mutter. “Toge!” I was surprised when I turned and saw him standing right behind me. “You came to try to check out the new bakery too?” I asked. “Bonito flakes,” he nodded. “Me too! I saw some photos online and the croissant looked delicious and also the strawberry cake. I wanted to come here with Yuu-“ I shook my head. “I wanted to try it, but I really don’t trust myself around a whole cake,” I laughed awkwardly. “Kelp,” he said as he pointed to himself. “Wanna share one?” I asked with stars in my eyes. “Tuna Mayo,” he nodded. “Ok! Let’s get it,” I smiled and headed to the register.

“Hello!” The woman behind the register smiled. “Hi, can I get a chocolate croissa- or make that 2 chocolate croissants. And a strawberry cake,” I said. “Ok anything else?” She asked. “Toge, was there anything else you wanted?” I asked. He shook his head. “Ok, oh and can we get 2 iced lattes,��� I smiled. “Alright, that’ll be $30,” she said as she handed me a number. I began taking out my wallet until I noticed Toge handed her the money. “Oh Toge, I got it!” I said as I began pulling the money out of my wallet. He shook his head and lifted his phone showing a calendar with the 14th circled. It had ‘(Y/N)’s birthday’. “O-Oh… but you already got me a gift,” I said, confused. The woman handed the change back to Toge, “Ok, we’ll call your number in about 20 minutes. I nodded as I stepped out of the bakery with Toge. “You know you didn’t have to pay,” I frowned. “Kelp,” he replied. “I’ll pay you back, or treat you to something when we have another day off,” I said. “Salmon, tuna mayo,” he frowned. I sighed, “You’ll just take your money out faster?” I asked. “Bonito flakes,” he nodded. “Then can I at least pay for something? I’d feel bad,” I pleaded. Toge stayed silent, then pointed across the street. I looked over and noticed a street artist doing cute caricature portraits. “You wanna go do one?” I asked. He quickly nodded, “Alright come on! We do have 20 minutes!” I said and grabbed his hand, and ran across the street to the artist.

“Hello,” I smiled. “Hello,” he replied. “How much for a portrait?” I asked. “15 per person,” he said. “Alright we’d like to do one!” I smiled and we both sat on the pair of stools in front of the man. “Alright, this will take about 20 to 25 minutes,” he said. “Perfect,” I smiled. We smiled, or I smiled and Toge stayed still for the next 25 minutes. “Alright, ready for the reveal?” The artist asked. We both nodded. He then swiftly flipped the image and both of us stared at the image, “Wow, we’re so cute!” I said excitedly and grabbed the paper. “Tuna mayo,” Toge said. “Thank you!” I said, and paid the man. We headed back to the bakery and picked up our cake and other items. “Should we go to a nearby park?” I asked. Toge quickly nodded and we headed towards a park that was about 10 minutes away.

“Wow this cake is so yummy,” I smiled as I took another big bite. “Tuna Mayo,” Toge mumbled as he took another bite. “Ah, Toge you have frosting on your face,” I said and leaned over with a napkin to wipe his cheek. I noticed Toge blush and I quickly pulled back, “S-Sorry! I just-!” I was interrupted.

“(Y/N)?” I heard the familiar voice call out, making my blood run cold. I slowly turned and saw Yuuji and Megumi walking towards us. “Hi…” I said softly. “What are you doing here, and with Inumaki?” He asked. I stared at him before answering. I noticed a shopping bag from a clothing store and another one from our favorite manga shop. “You know… just celebrating my birthday!” I forced a smile. I quickly felt the atmosphere turn sour, I watched as Yuuji took a few seconds to process what I said. “Y-Your birthday?” He asked. “That’s right! I was waiting for a certain someone to meet me at school, but they never showed up. So why let that ruin my plans on celebrating my birthday 2 weeks late because of someone…” I glared. He stared back speechless. “Someone idiotic, forgetful, and selfish… cause he forgot to meet someone who I thought was special to him, but obviously not since he decided to forget about me,” I said as I took another bite of cake. Yuuji continued frozen until Megumi awkwardly coughed. “O-Oh… well (Y/N) you gotta understand it was an accident! I- We- I had this dumb argument and then things lead to the other, and-“ he stumbled. “It’s fine, just shows that a girlfriend isn’t anything special. So why have one?” I shrugged. “N-No (Y/N) listen to-“

“I hear you loud and clear Itadori, don’t worry. You don’t want a girlfriend, so you don’t have a girlfriend,” I smiled. “But-“ he was interrupted by Megumi placing a hand on his shoulder. “No dude, she made up her mind. Accept it, this is your fault anyways,” he said. “But she has to hear me out fir-“

“Leave.” I turned as I heard Toge speak. I then turned back and watched as Yuuji and Megumi became entranced and turned around and walked away. I turned back to Toge who was rubbing his neck. “Toge I’m sorry, things got out of hand! I’m really sorry,” I said. “Kelp,” he said dryly. “Let’s go get you some medicine?” I asked. He nodded and we quickly cleaned up and headed to the market for throat medicine.

We were finally heading back to the dorms after the eventful day. “Thanks for hanging out with me, Toge. I was just gonna spend my late birthday by myself since Yuuji forgot about meeting me,” I said softly, as we sat in the train. “Bonito flakes…” he trailed off. “It meant a lot, so thanks!” I forced a smile. “Salmon,” he said and placed his hand on my head and pulled it into his chest. I was surprised by his actions, but the tears that were dwelling up finally let loose. I cried softly into his chest and gripped his shirt. This wasn’t the day I was expecting, but maybe the day I needed.

Watching Wheel of Time without reading the books: Season 2, episode 2

I am going to have to post this as half a review again. I had a lot of feelings, and I am never going to get around to watching the rest of the episodes if I don't just post what I have. I still haven't covered the Moiraine or Perrin plotlines, but believe me when I say I adore them also. You can read about the rest of them below.

We finally get to see what Rand has been up to all this time: having nightmares about hurting everyone he loves, and whoring himself out for room and board. It’s like he got separated from the group and immediately thought “What would Mat do in this situation?” He is also working as an orderly in a mental hospital. Ah yes, I see. He needs to prove the intrusive thoughts wrong, by being extra caring and kind. Someone should let him know that command hallucinations are not a predictor of violence on their own, and one of the best protective factors is having a robust support network that keeps you grounded in reality. In other words, he should be doing the opposite of what he has done. But that’s Rand. His head has never contained any thoughts except “Gee I sure love my friends and family” so it was the perfect place for Nancy Reagan to move right in. Just a big house with five bedrooms, cathedral ceilings, and only two cardboard boxes stuffed in one corner of the garage. The first was labeled “willingness to do anything for my loved ones” and the other was labeled “nuance.” The second box was empty. This will not go well for him.

He’s been caring for a man who survived the Aiel wars, and got some serious PTSD from it. He’s a sword master, and has been teaching Rand some proper forms. Too bad some absolute caricature of a douchebag working at the hospital likes to pick on him for no reason. Rand responds in the way every mental health worker witnessing an abusive staff member dreams of. He calms the patient, finishes out his shift, then follows him home and beats the shit out of him. But whoops, he underestimated his Manneler strength and maybe killed the guy instead. It’s hard to know for sure, since Rand has some major hallucinations going on most of the time. I feel for him here. In Rand’s mind, he was standing up to a bully as his equal. But Rand has no equals. He is quickly realizing that no fight involving him will ever be fair.

Douchebag fails to show up for work, so Rand gets promoted to the garden, where all the famous patients hang out. And his first patient of the day is Logain, the false dragon. Dun dun DUN!

Meanwhile, at the White Tower, Nynaeve is busy being wooed by an increasingly desperate JK Rowling. Unfortunately, her main selling points are gender supremacy and pre-crime. The fascism isn’t even thinly veiled, she just comes out and says it. Nynaeve isn’t interested. JK needs to change her sales pitch. To cope with the rejection, she goes and torments her pet Mat for a bit. He tolerates it, and as soon as she is gone, continues his Shawshank Redemption plan. He eventually succeeds in tunneling through his wall, only to discover another cell. At least this one comes with company in the form of Min, the psychic who bailed on the final battle. Once in the presence of another human, Mat’s charm immediately returns. Thank the Light. I like New Mat after all. He wants to know how Min ended up in Aes Sedai Jail (because she’s a girl), but Min has no clear answers for him. She does have wine, though, so now he has a drinking buddy. He offers to also be an orgasm buddy, but she has a vision of him stabbing Rand with the cursed dagger, which is a major lady boner killer. The rags and prison smell are probably also a factor.

A new girl has moved in to Novice school. Obnoxiously, with all her furniture blocking the hall. Egwene goes up to yell at her, and I get to meet Elayne, the girl everyone has been screaming about since the promo photos dropped. First impressions of Elayne: I want to hate her, but I just can’t. She is naive, but earnest. She’s very excited to be “just like everyone else” but can’t help mentioning that she’s the princess three times per conversation. I have to hand it to the actor. This character could very easily be played as condescending and out of touch. But instead, her sincerity bursts out of her with such force that I can’t help but like her. She latches onto Egwene like a lovestruck koala and never lets go. She propositions her in the first conversation, and says she hopes they become soulmates. Egwene is redheaded channeler catnip.

JK’s new sales pitch is apparently accidentally-on-purpose getting caught caring for her son, who is dying of old age. Or maybe it was a genuine accident. It is hard to tell with her. Nynaeve shows concern in the only way she can, by helpfully pointing out a mistake JK made, and telling her how to fix it. That earns her a slap in the face, which was pretty much what she expected, but JK does take her advice.

Meanwhile, Egwene figures out that Elayne is making up excuses to spend time with her. Good. She really needed this, because she has finally fallen into Gifted Kid burnout. She cries to Elayne about how Nynaeve gets all the praise without even trying, and meanwhile, she struggles to even get noticed. Elayne tells her jealousy isn’t a good look on her, in a voice that strongly implies she thinks nearly anything at all would be a good look on Egwene. I told Husband that Elayne is going to leave her morning whippings and run straight to Egwene to rub soothing lotion all over her. He said that’s actually canon.

Sadly, Nynaeve overheard this conversation. The thing that upset her wasn’t any kind of insult or character assassination. She is hurt that Egwene feels abandoned. She pretty clearly only joined Novice school so she could watch over Egwene and protect her. She is being harangued every day by the people she hates most, and now she’s being accused of ENJOYING it? Oh no! I hate miscommunication as a plot device, but I like this show’s spin on it. Another show might have Nynaeve walk away with the impression that Egwene has upgraded her best friend to the princess of the kingdom, and no longer needs the peasant from the two rivers. That was what I was worried would happen. But once again, the soul of the show is the way these five all love each other so much and know each other so well. I now have more hope that Mat isn’t as fooled by JK’s cursed dagger behavior as he is pretending.

JK interrupts Nynaeve’s angst to come extremely close to apologizing, and even closer to saying thank you. But her evil plan to force Nynaeve into an acceptance speedrun has already started, so there’s no turning back now. Nynaeve must walk through the arches and face her biggest fears, in order to become a full Jedi master Aes Sedai. Dun dun DUN!

Other episode reviews

Black Dick and the Spithead Mutiny

Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe, 1st Earl Howe (1726-1799) was an extraordinary personality and spent more than 60 years in the service of the Royal Navy. On 16 April 1797 the mutiny began at Spithead, the main naval anchorage near Portsmouth.

Admiral Richard Howe, 1726-99, 1st Earl Howe, by Henry Singleton  (1766–1839) (x)

16 ships of the Channel Fleet raised the red flag of insurrection. The demand of the men: a rais in pay, a more equitable distribution of prize money and better victuals. When negotiations broke down between the two sides, King George III personally requested Howe.

And why him? well, he was one of the few officers who treated men well and was always fair, so he was a stalwart of the men's hearts and was even affectionately known as Black Dick. There have been a number of explanations offered for this, his swarthy complexion also known as " Sea Tan" being one and the fact that he never smiled unless a battle was about to begin may be the other one. But back to the Mutiny. Although over 70 and suffering from gout and other ailments, he agreed - but only if his dear wife Lady Howe accompanied him.

Print of a caricature published 9 June, 1797, depicting the Delegates of the mutiny meeting with Admiral Buckner. Richard Parker is the figure on the far-right. (x)

They set out on 10 May on a wild and stormy night and arrived at Portsmouth the following morning. Howe left his wife at the governor's house and immediately set out by barge for Spithead. He came alongsinde HMS Royal George, the headquarters of the insurrection, and despite his infirmities he rejected all offers to help him come aboard and clambered up unaided. He called the ship's company to the quarterdeck and started to talk to them man to man, neither reproaching their conduct nor standing on his dignity. Several hours later he went to HMS Queen Charlotte. For three days he went from ship to ship - talking, listening, heaving his rheumaticky knees and gouty feet up and down ladders until he was so tired he had to be lifted in and out of his boat. But by the end he has achieved reconciliation on both sides, with a Royal pardon for all the mutineers, a reassignment of some of the most unpopular officers and a pay rise and better victualling for the sailor.

On 15 May there was a grand celebration in Portsmouth, and the mutineers' delegates marched in procession up to the governor's house accompanied by bands playing " God Save the King" and " Rule, Britannia". The delegates were invited inside for refreshments, then appeared on the balcony with the Howes to huzzahs from the multitude, after which they set out together for the anchorage. On board Royal George Howe was given three cheers and the red flag of mutiny was pulled down; the other ships quickly followed. Later that day Lord and Lady Howe hosted a special meal for the delegates before they returned to their ships and reported for duty.

HEADCANON

When Peeta paints or draws his dreams and nightmares they are very much photorealistic. Peeta's dreams and nightmares are very much rooted in reality. A piece that the Capitol loved, partially because it was a stand out from his pieces that were of the games, is one called The Baker's Wife. He wont say its a portrait of his mom from his nightmares but it is. It depicted a woman looking angry holding a rolling pin. He doesn't ever divulge much about the piece beyond "Kneading dough can get out feelings you didn't know you had in you."

When Peeta paints other things it is very impressionistic in style. These are his personal paintings that he keeps and hangs up. That is not to say he can't paint realistically, that kind of painting is what got him through the bulk of the 74th games, and what got him his score for the 75th with his painting of Rue. But his preference is impressionism. It also translates better into frosting.

When he simply draws he is all over the place one moment it could be whimsy, another cartoonish, or it could be realistic. It depended on his mood and the subject. For example he has quite a few caricatures of people in the capitol. Portia has one of herself and Cinna that she requested he make after seeing the one he did of Effie in an open sketchbook he had laying around when they were visiting before the Victory Tour. Peeta said no at first, but she insisted and found it a good reflection on who they were and it was a good reminder too. So he did it for her.

Those two pieces and the one of his mother he has no idea what happened to them after the war, but he wishes he did.

At one point during his torture he painted a very abstract and almost cubism like painting of roses. He doesn't remember painting it, nor does he remember why he painted it, or why he was allowed to paint it. But he saw it during his last interview at Snow's mansion. It was still there when they were making the vote later in Mockingjay. It is the only art he did during the time, up until he frosted Finnick and Annie's wedding cake.

Also due to his artistic ability, Peeta was in charge of the daily menu boards at the bakery. While things mostly never changed, his mother required the boards changed daily before they opened.

i am curious about your thoughts on dream and tommy, esp if you think their dynamic mirrors in any way to their lore/dsmp dynamic (because it's honestly deranged that they kinda just slipped into that)

Tommy and Dream hit a lot of different notes over the course of their Lore, but most people zero in on their late-game dynamic so I assume that’s what you’re going for as well. I’m going to zoom in on the exile point because doing an overview of their entire relationship through the DSMP would take a while and you get to see a lot of contact between the characters there, even if the situation is specific.

I can’t know if I’m right, but since the lore was known to be at least half-negotiated it always felt like their roles in exile were a lot more than incidental. Tommy leaned hard and fast into a Stockholm syndrome caricature at a rate that felt kind of unearned, honestly-- not complaining about the pacing, just drawing attention to the fact that it had to be intentional if it was moving that fast. Tommy wanted that distressing, extreme end result. He leaned into it, he played it up, it was for an audience at the end of the day and it’s important to keep in mind that he is skilled at baiting an emotional reaction from people in more ways than just laughter. Tommy was always good at staging drama and kicking up hooks during streams, driving his character to emotional extremes during exile was more of the same.

In my first C!Tommy lorepost I said that I saw the exile arc as Tommy going “Just fuck me up” and Dream replying “Say no more, I got you.” Standing outside of both of them, their capacities to define themselves by their environment and the people in them are pretty big. The escalated each other because they made each others roles for the other clear and easy to play off, which gave them both a direction. When exile was over, one of the lines that cc!Tommy throws out half-in and half-out of character is that he misses dream, and that it was much easier when he was around because Tommy always knew what to do. On the other end, C!Dream was assigned villain by The Narrative from the beginning and part of his arc was him learning to lean into it to get what he wanted. A shared fondness for intensity made their connection one of the most charged relationships on the server, and if you look at it from a meta perspective they really brought in the eyeballs together. You can see outside of the roleplay that Dream was always on board with getting Tommy primes and strategizing with him on how to achieve certain goals—in character they’re opposed, but out of character they’re working together towards a shared story.

Tommy likes roleplaying extreme power dynamics. I’m not quite sure why but there’s a mountain of evidence that he does, he goes to it in his humor a lot, if there’s an opportunity to be henchman-coded he’s on it like white on rice. He’s not afraid of pick up the other end of the stick as well, playing up having absolute power over other people. We’ve never encountered his ability to play A Karen in a super serious roleplay way but the things that naturally come out of his mouth when asked to play an unstable control freak are a dead giveaway that he knows what an unstable, manipulative person looks and sounds like—he’s just as capable of picking up the other end of the roleplay, he just hasn’t in a longform serious way (Yet. I have a vision and my fingers crossed.)

Dream’s ability to play the other end of the dynamic was interesting. C!Dream presented himself the logician who was only incidentally emotional, but the fact that C!Dream did not want to be alone became one of the main plot points in the end, so the fact that he kept extending ‘friendly’ connection to Tommy was more than just another ends-above-means maneuver. C!Dream becomes someone who gets lost in his own tactics and thinking, becoming blind to his own emotions even though they were what put him into action to begin with. He was controlling and subtle during exile (not super subtle but more subtle than Tommy) and would often try to be the ‘reasonable’ one when Tommy was talking out his emotions, even when the emotions he was talking out were exactly the ones that Dream intended to inspire. The drive to play problem-solver and trouble-shooter never really died out, despite the changing circumstances.

Out of character, which is also visible though the exile vods, one of the features of Tommy and Dream’s relationship is that Tommy can run rings around Dream and surprise him often. Friendly antagonism, unless it’s actively getting him into hot water, does not actually put CC!Dream off—He’s the kind of guy who play-fights for fun. Some of Dream’s own stories are being a rowdy kid on a Minecraft server, there’s next to no way he doesn’t see parts of himself in Tommy. They trade back and forth on who is the straight man in a given situation when they’re out of character because they’re similar people, in a Six-type way. As part of that, not only is Tommy someone who belongs to the type of person that gets nicknamed The Loyalist, so is Dream. They’re both people who like to put roots down with people and don’t cut ties easily, so attaching that instinct to someone who you see a reflection of that trait in probably feels natural.  

I know my usual motto is “Minecraft roleplay is real, actually,” but that usually comes out when two “characters” spend a lot of time together to the point where staying ‘in character’ all the time isn’t feasible anymore and they return to their base personalities. In times when Dream and Tommy were Peak Antagonistic, they weren’t spending a lot of time together in VC and it was hard to get the two of them in a room outside of a plotted event. Exile is an example of how they dipped in and out of character and blended two different dynamics into one setting, creating a temporary ally relationship because they just couldn’t fake being enemies for that long. Dream and Tommy didn’t just fall into being antagonistic, they negotiated the disc war from the very beginning and then raced each other to opposite extremes to achieve a goal.

here we’ll dance, in this dark place...

oop, here’s my first venture into painting my gods in all their weird glory. it’ll be a long time before i can accurately depict any of the eldritch maximalist nonsense that day and night have got going on, but anyways: here’s sublime, the eldest of the new divinities, your local sleazy club promoter, that one fucking guy, etc. a bit of writing + some rambling under the cut!

sublime is the eldest son of night, and was modelled in night’s image. as night Himself is afflicted by the same inability to create anything of any originality, same as all the other old gods, sublime is almost a carbon copy of night in His youth. (think around the ming dynasty, during the perihelion phase of Their rule.)

after night’s marriage to dawn, and prompt divorce, night experiences a great deal of something that we’ll call shame and totally renounces all His creations prior to His marriage. 

His second son, scherzo, is modelled in dawn’s perfect image -- or, you know, as a caricature of dawn -- and sublime is shunned and eventually exiled. the sons of night do not get along: sublime is the prodigal eldest who is suddenly being denied his father’s empire, and scherzo is the over-spoilt youngest. 

sublime claims that scherzo is a glorified puppet sculpted by a lovestruck idiot; scherzo claims that sublime is a puddle of dark that their holy father accidentally spat onto.

missing word here, if you’ve ever... 

sublime now has no contact with his father or the nocturne, but he’s fond of his sisters, and will check up on them frequently. scherzo is very ‘i don’t give a fuck about humans, why should i, i am the flawless fucking machine, the eidolon, the hiemal almighty’ sigma bro hashtag grindset but sublime loves humans and is constantly making pacts with them even though he does very literally drive them nuts and distort them and uhh completely fuck up their lives. i’ve been really enjoying filling up his pinterest board hehe bc i really dig that oversaturated neon vibe where everything is a little too bright and vibrant to be entirely real + psychedelic nightmare surrealist clusterfuck etc etc. 

think coloured lights so bright they wash out the expression and the humanity out of the people you see, a warehouse packed full of bodies, your throat dry and pulsing with panic, sensory overload, a shape in the fog machines moving towards you, eyes like flashlights. sublime is very much a horror-oriented character mostly inspired by the struggle of clinging onto reality when you’re not entirely sure what you’ve taken.

he also loves cults and setting up cults, it’s like a hobby for him. he’s very much the black sheep of all the young gods, even considering the Exquisite Distillation, who is very much a mass murderer, but it’s, you know, well deserved. sublime is a slimy dude.

^^ above and below are from an oooold draft. im still trying to get the hang of how sublime interacts with scherzo. the sons of night are not strictly brothers due to the nature of how He creates things, but they certainly do not like each other. sublime cannot stand his successor even though he is forced to admit that scherzo is a flawless new god in both design and ability

it’s worth mentioning here that scherzo loves to lord his status over sublime. scherzo protects night’s great labyrinthine library and thus has unfiltered access to most of the well of human knowledge, as well as surveillance over most human individuals. sublime trades secrets, and puts a little piece of himself into every person he makes a pact with. they are both constantly going apeshit nuts that the other has something they don’t. 

anyways i hope to draw them more as i get a little bit more comfortable with more abstract stuff and then maybe i can even shift to painting the old gods someday. for now i struggle to plan out their character arcs

also they have fucking typing quirks for their weird i am everywhere and everything voices. i will never everrr escape homestuck unfortunately . ah well

im also playing with this idea where each of the new gods represent the inevitability of a great catastrophe (and the continuation of the cosmic cycle) in some way. still playing with this but minuet is the catalyst, sublime is the premonition of it, scherzo is the consequence and the rubble in the aftermath, ofluxe/the exquisite distillation is of course the huge fuckoff problem.

some minuet pov below because she is as of this current draft hellbent on dragging him into a family that embraces him. minuet is a total garbage fire shipwreck car crash of a functional goddess, but she has an iron conviction in the sanctity of family. this will of course obliterate her later.

sublime’s love for his sisters and his wife is probably his only redeeming characteristic, at least until minuet’s POV starts narrating the majority of the shitshow. dare i say misandrist icon. 

I posted 3,113 times in 2022

That's 1,165 more posts than 2021!

95 posts created (3%)

3,018 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@chaoticrushu

@resplendent-ragamuffin

@tuulikki

@aridotdash

@stardustravens

I tagged 2,363 of my posts in 2022

Only 24% of my posts had no tags

#stormlight archive - 858 posts

#stormlight archive spoilers - 379 posts

#tolkien - 230 posts

#rhythm of war spoilers - 185 posts

#tlt - 162 posts

#silm - 159 posts

#judaism - 147 posts

#achievement hunter - 117 posts

#oathbringer spoilers - 107 posts

#loz - 102 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#my personal opinion is: met glys before gavilar died. swore first ideal sometime during wok. began having visions in the beginning of wor.

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

You know why I'm really excited and terrified about the Thaidakar reveal?

Rhythm of War emphasized and re-emphasized that a prolonged existence as a cognitive shadow is not, like... good for you. The Fused lose a bit of themselves every time they're reborn, becoming caricatures rather than complex and nuanced people.

It's been hundreds of years. Thaidakar isn't Kelsier, not exactly. Not anymore.

177 notes - Posted February 4, 2022

#4

Reminder that Kaladin is younger than every single member of Bridge Four except Renarin, Rlain, and Dabbid

301 notes - Posted July 13, 2022

#3

Stormlight Characters as Stuff The Babies At My Job Have Done

Rock: Walks around the room each morning ceremoniously handing each one of the toddlers one of their veggie straws

Dalinar: Favorite book is called "Teeth Are Not For Biting"; bites the other kids constantly

Skar and Drehy: Stand up in their cribs and yell wordlessly back and forth at at each other every day during nap time

Elhokar: Walked up to me, held their arms up and screamed, then started crying when I picked them up

Lopen: Took their shirt off during nap time apropos of nothing, causing all the other toddlers to follow suit

Jasnah: Walked up to her mom who was breastfeeding her little sister, pointed at the baby's crib with a stern expression, and said "night night."

Mom: "Your sister's eating, it isn't nap time--"

Toddler: "NIGHT NIGHT."

Sebarial: Watched two of the toddlers have a slap fight with rapt attention while chewing on the strap of her highchair like it was popcorn

Taravangian: While getting over a cold, held a board book triumphantly over her head and let out the raspiest old-man-sounding "heh heh"

Adolin: One day his mom dropped him off and said "he's got a cold and doesn't understand what's happening, as far as he's concerned it's the apocalypse"

376 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

#2

The combination of

1) 13-year-old Renarin telling Dalinar how Evi always spoke highly of him,

2) Jasnah remembering Renarin "weeping for a father who didn't seem to be able to feel love" as a child, and

3) Renarin thinking in RoW that "it was a shame his mother had never seen [Dalinar] grow to be the man she said he was"

causes me physical pain.

501 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I want Renarin to swear an Ideal on-page in book 5. I want him to admit to himself how angry he is about his mother's death. I want him to get in a screaming fight with Dalinar. I want him to kiss his crab bf. I want him to go full unsettling prophet mode and creep out everyone around him. I want him to kill seven more thunderclasts. I want him to learn more about Listener culture through Rlain. I want Adolin to convince him to wear fashion frames. I want him to pursue his interest in fabrial mechanics. I want him to have a wine snob moment. I want him to help Rlain keep an eye on the humans I want it to be safe for Glys to live outside his chest I want him to say the words "there's nothing wrong with me" aloud I want

800 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

May 3, 1922 Our Boarding House by Gene Ahern

Caption: Buster's Uncle Hugo arrives. [ID: Buster puffs on a cigar and carries a gladstone bag for his uncle Hugo, a shorter (but just as portly) man with a small chin beard. Hugo carries an umbrella and wears a top hat. A racist caricature of a Pullman porter stands whistling by the departures board. /end] Hugo: Th' dern porter on th' train brushed one of th' buttons off my vest, an' I made him give me a dime to pay for gettin' it sewed on agin! Say, Neffy. Are you city folks wearin' your light underwear yet? I brought mine along to be in style. I read they's lots of holdups in this town. I brought my ol' pistol along in th' valise. Th' dern thing don't shoot, but it points mighty wicked. I no more'n got off th' train when a lot of fellys wanted to sell me their dern autymobiles. They all thought they knew me because each one called me "Mister Tacksy." While I was waitin' for you, I set my watch with a dern clock that costs a cent to find out by steppin' on it, and it said 147 pounds.

[INFLATION GUIDE: That dime that Hugo extorted from the porter would be the equivalent of $1.75 today. /end]

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a forbidden server of my minds (the physiology of god having a bad thought)

part two・‥…━━━ °｡ ｡ •｡ :･ﾟ✧

by: meena sidlak-sidlak ft. A.I.

A draft saved for further processing, manifests as a paradox. She is a child again. Trapped in a gilded cage of opulence, a rich childhood that feels stifling. A haunting specter of the rich childhood, twisted into a grotesque caricature. The deleter's role in the tableau of the subconscious is to intercept and transform the invasive thoughts, the harmful echoes that threaten the harmony of the mind. The deleter has begun its work, the anti-mnemonic slowly transmuting the cage into a golden bird. The child watches with bated breath as the bird tests its wings, the promise of freedom lingering in its tentative flaps. The transformation is not yet complete.

In the haphazard theater of her mind, the thought of self-destruction takes the stage as a tempestuous performance. She is a lone mariner, adrift on a roiling ocean of despair and her sails are shredded. The deleter, always vigilant, intercepts this thought, carefully infusing an anti-mnemonic, morphing the stormy seas into a serene lake, the chaotic winds into a gentle breeze. The mariner, once lost, finds solace in this newfound tranquility.

The second thought stems from the supernatural possession at 15. It takes the form of a monstrous shadow, a nefarious puppeteer looming over the mind's theater, the strings of control yanked by an unseen puppeteer pulling at the psyche. She is the marionette, each jerk of the string sending ripples of terror through her. The deleter intervenes here, severing the strings with an anti-mnemonic blade. The puppeteer shadow transforms into a benign cloud, a harmless apparition drifting aimlessly in the subconscious sky.

The third thought is a cruel echo of the father's teasing, a hurtful jab at the undiagnosed autism. It is a surreal auditory landscape, where his insensitive words incessantly echo, bouncing off the walls of her cognition in an endless loop, amplifying the confusion, the sense of otherness. The vigilant deleter, with a gentle touch, weaves an anti-mnemonic silence, muffling the echoes, reducing them to a faint hum, a whisper gradually fading into oblivion.

The final thought is tied to the insectile imaginary friendships, a strange comfort that became a source of betrayal. This thought materializes as a swarm of insects, each embodying a broken trust, a friendship turned sour. The deleter descends once more, implanting the anti-mnemonic that transmutes the insects into harmless butterflies, symbols of transformation and new beginnings.

A new draft begins to render. It airbrushes a world gripped in an unending loop of the pandemic. She is aboard a ghost ship sailing through a foggy time, where days bleed into nights, weeks merge into months, and years are a hazy blur. An altered reality where time is adrift in a limbo, suspended existence.

The deleter steps in, weaving an anti-mnemonic fabric around this thought. The spectral figure transforms into a chrysalis in a tranquil cocoon, the limbo into a period of gestation. She's no longer trapped; she's evolving, growing, preparing to emerge into a world that, despite all its changes, is ready to welcome her transformed self. She stands on the ship's deck, the salty spray of the sea a sharp contrast to the antiseptic smell that has permeated her life off-board. She looks around, the ship is brimming with life. Faces behind masks are no longer faceless. The scene around her is a collage of disjointed images - a worn-out teddy bear signifying a child's battle against the virus, a half-done puzzle speaking of quarantined families rediscovering connections, a dog-eared book hearkening back to the solace found in stories during lockdowns. The air is dense not just with the physical remnants of an ongoing pandemic, but the emotional debris of a world in flux. It's a movie unfolding in real-time, each scene etched with the indelible ink of shared human experience.

The deleter stands by, watching this thought. It doesn't intervene, not this time. This thought, though stemming from a pandemic, is now part of her. A testament to a world that has changed and a self that has adapted. The ghost ship continues its journey, carving a path through the foggy seas, leaving behind a trail of resilience, of survival, a shared odyssey of a world that refused to succumb.

However, this thought, this ghost ship sailing through the pandemic, is not an enemy but a companion of her journey. This thought, albeit born from chaos and uncertainty, is a thought that has grown, evolved, and matured with time, no longer a threatening invader, but an integral part of her cognition. The deleter recognizes the value of this thought, acknowledging that not all thoughts stemming from difficult circumstances are harmful. Some, like this one, are essential reminders of our potential for resilience and growth during challenging times. This thought doesn’t need transformation, but acceptance and understanding. Thus, the deleter steps back, allowing the thought to remain, to continue its journey through the subconscious seas. In doing so, it emphasizes that even in the face of adversity, there are experiences, memories, and thoughts that we don't need to delete or forget, but rather embrace, learn from, and carry forward.

Is it a risk to their job when they give rite of passage to some invasive thoughts?

The decision to allow certain invasive thoughts passage poses an intriguing paradox to the deleter's role. On one hand, they are tasked with maintaining mental harmony by mitigating harmful thoughts. On the other hand, they realize that some invasive thoughts, once matured and understood, can serve as profound life lessons and markers of personal growth. This selective permitting does pose a risk, both to their conventional function and the stability of the mind's ecosystem. Allowing an invasive thought to remain could potentially disrupt the mental equilibrium, or trigger a cascade of similar thoughts that might be harder to manage.

However, the deleters, ever vigilant and adaptive, understand that their job isn't just about deletion or transformation, but also discernment. They must distinguish between thoughts that merely cause discomfort and those that cause genuine harm. In this delicate balancing act, they evolve from mere custodians of the subconscious into its wise counselors. They understand that growth often sprouts from discomfort, that resilience is built from confronting, not avoiding, challenging thoughts. In giving a rite of passage to specific invasive thoughts, the deleters walk a tightrope. It's a risk, but one that might be necessary for the overall growth and resilience of the individual. The deleters take on this risk, aware of their responsibility, and prepared to intervene should the thought prove too disruptive. In essence, they are not just maintainers of mental harmony, but also facilitators of personal growth. It takes certain calculated risks in the execution of their job, resulting in a more nuanced approach to managing the intricate landscape of the subconscious. They must adapt to changing situations, unpredictability of thoughts, and emotional climates. They are not invasive thought modulators for nothing.

As for the compensation, it's hard to quantify in real-world terms due to the abstract nature of their work considering the complexity of their job, the 24/7 schedule, and the high stakes involved, a figure like 1500 to 2000 Philippine Pesos per hour could be a ballpark figure. In terms of skills and qualifications, a deleter would need a combination of high cognitive abilities, emotional intelligence, and perhaps a thorough understanding of psychology. They would not necessarily require a medical background, but a deep understanding of cognitive and emotional processes would be a must. The ability to process vast amounts of information, identify patterns, and make quick yet accurate decisions would be crucial for a deleter. Given that they operate within the realm of emotions and thoughts, a high EQ would allow them to navigate this space sensitively and effectively, understanding and empathizing with the emotional content of the thoughts they encounter.

It's a curious irony when one considers the hypothetical financial value of managing thoughts, especially when compared to the physical effort of generating them. The actual value of maintaining mental harmony, navigating emotions, and promoting personal growth goes beyond any monetary figure one could assign. It's a priceless endeavor, crucial to our well-being and fundamental to our human experience. So, while the deleters might hypothetically have a high salary, the real wealth lies in the thoughts and emotions they manage, the memories, ideas, and feelings that make us who we are. In that sense, you're both the CEO and the richest shareholder of your mind's vast empire.

When we experience negative thoughts such as anger, resentment, fear, or depression, our body perceives these as threats. In response, it releases stress hormones, primarily cortisol and adrenaline. These hormones prepare our bodies for immediate action - heart rate increases, blood pressure rises, and our senses become more acute. While this response is helpful when facing immediate threats, its prolonged activation due to chronic negative thinking can lead to several adverse health effects. Constantly being in a state of 'fight or flight' can lead to feelings of restlessness, nervousness, and a sense of impending doom - hallmark symptoms of anxiety. High levels of stress hormones can make it difficult to relax and fall asleep, leading to insomnia. Lack of sleep can further exacerbate negative thinking, creating a vicious cycle. Long-term exposure to cortisol can decrease the production of serotonin, a neurotransmitter that contributes to feelings of well-being and happiness. This imbalance can lead to symptoms of depression. The deleter or the invasive thought modulator in our subconscious plays a crucial role in managing these negative thoughts and preventing the chronic activation of the stress response. By minimizing the impact of invasive thoughts, they help maintain mental harmony and contribute to overall well-being.

Attributing a physiology or a human cognitive process to a divine entity like God poses a substantial challenge. If God experiences a 'bad thought', it would likely disrupt the cosmic balance and harmony. Given that many belief systems attribute the creation and maintenance of the universe to God, any negative thought could potentially manifest as cosmic disturbances or alterations in the fundamental laws of nature. From a metaphorical perspective, perhaps this could translate to phenomena we can't currently explain, like anomalies in the cosmos, or drastic shifts in universal constants. But remember, this is a speculative interpretation and not based on any specific religious, philosophical, or scientific principles. In many belief systems, God is seen as a source of absolute goodness, incapable of 'bad thoughts' as understood in human terms. The very concept of a 'bad thought' is tied to our human limitations, imperfections, and subjective moral judgments.

As the narrative of the mind unfolds, we find ourselves once again contemplating the enigmatic figure of the deleter. This elusive guardian of mental realms, ever vigilant yet selectively passive, stands as a testament to the delicate dance between harmony and disruption within the subconscious. Yet, amid this intricate choreography of intervention, there emerges a paradox, the deleter's hesitance, a calculated step back from the foggy seas of a pandemic-stricken world. Why does the deleter, whose very existence is predicated on intercepting and transforming invasive thoughts, choose not to intervene in this spectral narrative?

The answer lies in the recognition of a profound truth: that not all thoughts born of chaos are adversaries to be expunged. Some embody narratives of resilience, adaptation, and shared human experience. They are fragments of a collective odyssey through uncharted waters. In allowing certain invasive thoughts passage, the deleter undertakes a calculated risk. A departure from conventional custodianship toward a nuanced role of discernment and facilitation. It acknowledges that growth often springs from discomfort, that adversity can sculpt narratives of strength and renewal. In this delicate dance of intervention and acquiescence, the deleter assumes the mantle not only of guardian but also of steward, nurturing thoughts that transcend mere intrusion to become conduits of profound insight.

As the ghost ship sails through the fog, the aurora borealis of everything palpably intangible, the deleter stands watch. A guardian of not only harmony but of the profound stories etched by the human spirit's enduring voyage through the enigmatic seas of existence and metamorphosis.

Native American Caricatures in Sports

by Melissa Thomas

Sports need mascots.  Apparently.  A team name is rarely enough; the team needs a face, an easily marketable object that won’t change as frequently as the players.  It’s usually associated with the team name, of course, and this is fairly easy when you have teams named after animals – the Cardinals, the Diamondbacks, the Hornets (hi).  But what about when you have a team… named after a group of people?

Throughout the decades of organized sports, names and mascots have come and gone.  Teams move, get renamed, or even get dissolved.  And yet, through all of that, team names like the Washington Redskins and the Cleveland Indians survived for years amidst controversy and urging for their removal.  Both of these names have been successfully changed, but only in the last few years – the teams retired their appropriative logos in 2019, with official name changes occurring at the start of each team’s 2022 season.  The use of Native American caricatures as team names and mascots is not new, nor is it over.

In 1968, the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI) began its push to abolish these mascots as appropriation of Native American culture and negative stereotyping.  At this point, the Cleveland Indians had been using their name for fifty-three years – it would be another fifty-four before that change would finally come.  The NCAI had multiple other attempts in the intervening years, including resolutions in 1993 and 2005.  In 2005, the American Psychological Association (APA; yes, as in the citation style) called for the immediate retirement of all Native American caricature mascots across all American sports – from the high school level to the professional – as well as other non-sports organizations.  The APA declared that research had shown the negative effects of the use of these mascots on both people of indigenous descent and those not of indigenous descent, coloring their perspective on Native Americans and their culture.

All of these efforts have led to incomplete successes across the United States.  The National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) officially banned the use of Native American caricature in college-level sports in 2005, with the support of the NCAI.  The only teams who remain are those with special permission from the NCAI and their ‘namesake’ tribes.  The Washington Redskins finally removed their name and logo in 2019, being known simply as the ‘Washington Football Team’ until their new name of the Washington Commanders was introduced in 2022.  Similarly, the Cleveland Indians discontinued their use of their old mascot, ‘Chief Wahoo’ (yeesh), in 2019, with an official name change to the Cleveland Guardians occurring in 2022.

These changes have not been without their pushbacks, and not every team with Native American name origins has jumped on board.  The Cleveland Guardians received a ton of public backlash for their proposed name change, despite a general outpouring of support from their actual fans – the new name was actually chosen by popular vote, with zero Native American stereotypes or connections.  The Atlanta Braves, on the other hand, have largely refused to change their name (being a reference to ‘Indian braves’ or warriors) or their tomahawk branding.  The Braves do, however, regularly work with their closest tribe, the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, who support them – though, most people stand with the official stance of the NCAI, that, at the very least, the ‘tomahawk chop’ chant needs to go.

This is still happening. This is still a process. But putting all of this in the public eye is, frankly, the only way this is going to get changed.

Sources:

“APA Resolution Recommending the Immediate Retirement of American Indian Mascots, Symbols, Images, and Personalities by Schools, Colleges, Universities, Athletic Teams, and Organizations.” APA.org. apa.org/pi/oema/resources/indian-mascots

Dunbar-Ortiz, Roxanne, and Dina Gilio-Whitaker. “All the Real Indians Died off”: And 20 Other Myths about Native Americans. Beacon Press, 2016.

Fryberg, Stephanie A., et al. “Of Warrior Chiefs and Indian Princesses: The Psychological Consequences of American Indian Mascots.” Psychology Press, 2008. https://doi.org/10.1080/01973530802375003 (http://www.indianmascots.com/fryberg--web-psychological_.pdf)

Black Motherhood in A Thousand and One (2023) & The Women of Brewster Place (1989)

[SPOILERS!!! TW: SA, Familial Abandonment]

Inez (mother) & Terry (son)

Fresh out of jail, Inez befriends a quiet foster kid, Terry, on the block she does hair at. When he ends up in the hospital, Inez falsely claims to be his mother before showering him with care and toys. Eventually, Inez abducts the kid to raise him on the run. For years, they lived together on the fringes of society, skirting around the government. As Terry approaches adulthood, he discovers Inez isn't his biological mother, leaving him with mixed emotions. Yet, he can’t help but call her mother because she was one to him. When Inez is questioned about her motivations, she says she took him because she, herself was in foster care, and though she didn’t know how to be a mother, she wanted to have him grow up to be somebody. Seeing as Terry got into a good school, got in little trouble, has various options to choose from, and more, she felt as though she won against the system that brought her to her miserable standing in life. In the end, it’s hard for Terry and probably the audience to really be mad at Inez. Terry probably would have been worse off if she never came for him in the hospital. It’s easy to see the love that Terry holds for his “mother” at the end of the movie when he cries while he helps her escape from the government who have found out about the abduction and are looking to jail her again.

It’s an unconventional story about motherhood, but it’s one about figuring out how to mother without ever having one. It’s also a critique on the “angry black hood woman” caricature because while Inez does fall into the Sapphire stereotype, she’s given humanity. There were several instances in raising Terry where she resorted to harsh words and physical punishment to teach him lessons, often flip-flopping between good and bad moods depending on what life is currently throwing at her. Over time, even when she does “calm down,” she’s still seen by the men around her as being too miserable looking and in dire need of a lesson on being quieter. Yet, Inez’ anger always stems from something— or someone— making her life harder. Her anger and frustration are understandable.

Mattie (mother) & Basil (son)

Mattie wasn’t planning to have a baby. Curiosity and repressed desire led to that not quite consensual encounter. Her parents weren’t planning on it either, being Christian and devout. When Mattie refused to reveal the baby’s dad to her father, he beat her to the ground until his wife fired a shotgun near his head for laying a hand on his baby. Mattie left home with a shamed heart and a little yellow suitcase. She stayed at a boarding house where she worked at a hair salon down the street until a little after her baby was born. Mattie experienced intense separation anxiety with her baby, Basil, not quite trusting anyone to look after him and always trying to make him happy. When a rat bites him, Mattie leaves the boarding home with a frantic heart, a little yellow suitcase, and a baby on her hip. She’s turned away from several doors for either being a mother— “We don’t take children”— or being black— “There is no vacancy, I just forgot to take the sign down.” It wasn’t until she encountered a little old lady, Ms. Eva, where she was invited to stay in her place for free, Basil getting a playmate in Lucile, Ms. Eva’s granddaughter, as well. Mattie doesn’t always do what’s best for Basil, always avoiding upsetting him too much. As such, she doesn’t give him his own bed as he grows older saying he’s too scared of the dark. When Ms. Eva dies and Lucile leaves, Mattie takes on the house and continues to raise Basil there until he’s a teen. When Basil kills a man he felt no remorse over killing— “he’s better off [in social standing] than me”— and breaking an officer’s arm as he resisted arrest, Mattie doesn’t lecture him on his lack of care. She just hears his plea that he wants out of jail because he hated the food, the beds weren’t good, and several other factors. He only complains about his life in jail to Mattie and doesn’t stay to talk to her at all when she visits, simply telling her he wants out before leaving. Mattie puts their house on the line to bail him out, but he still needs to go to the preceding. Basil, after tasting freedom again, doesn’t want to go back and feels he’s not going to have a chance at keeping his freedom, so he bounces without a goodbye leaving Mattie. With a broken heart and her little yellow suitcase, Mattie moves once more to Brewster Place. She can’t speak Basil’s name or talk about what happened.

Mattie’s tale is of a mother who sacrificed much for her child, only to be scorned in the end with a lack of understanding for her sacrifice. In trying to make the Basil happy all the time, he never understood even a modicum of hardship and avoided pain, fear, and other negative emotions like the plague. He learned he could get anything from his mother be it a few dollars to go to a movie and the bail out of jail with enough niggling. If Inez was the mother focused on what the kid needs, Mattie was the one focused on what the kid wants. In both instances, it backfires.

Cora Lee (mother) & Her Seven Kids

Cora Lee is the caricature of a welfare queen, humanized. As a little girl, she always loved her baby dolls and would get a new one each Christmas. The old ones never felt as nice as the new ones. When she grew older, she took this logic into consideration over her own kids. She loves when they’re babies, small, helpless, not talking back. But not so much when they’re older and refuse to listen much. She calls them dumbasses and knuckle heads. She uses passive aggression to try to guilt them into doing what she wants and direct commands in an attempt to strike fear in them. They often go awry. Also, after so many kids, she doesn’t deem every scrape, bump, and bruise they get to be much of an event, particularly when she tells them not to do the thing that earned them that mark of dishonor. Cora Lee feels like her kids are hopeless because of their bad grades and worse behavior. It’s not until Kiswana invites her and her kids to the local Shakespeare play that Cora Lee gets any hope for their situation. The kids are well behaved once Kiswana comes and all the people at Brewster place stare in astonishment at them all dressed up nice and behaving well as they walk over. The play itself was a success too. Midsummer Night’s Dream was adapted to include dancing, music, lights, costumes, and effects that left the audience jiving in their seats and engrossed. By the end, one of Cora Lee’s kids asked if Shakespeare was black to which she responds that he isn’t, not yet. It’s implied that this child may go on to be a playwright or into theatre from this encounter. Cora Lee is practically beaming after being given this chance to see her kids at all ages in a new light.

Kiswana (daughter) & Her Mother

This relationship between mother and daughter is one of miscommunication. Kiswana, or Melanie, feels as though her mother is ashamed of being black and tries to distance herself from that heritage as much as possible. From her mother’s words, it’s possible to think so. She feels that Brewster place isn’t safe— which it isn’t, there are gangs hanging around— and that her daughter should at least have a phone so that her mother and father have a line to reach her. Kiswana, however, hates that the two stopped loving each other in her eyes and more than that, wants to work towards getting a phone herself rather than ask them for money she feels isn’t hers. Kiswana’s mother is angered when she refuses and is accused of being ashamed of her heritage. She says that Melanie thinks that being black is in her curly hair, her skin tone, her name that she chose for herself, and all these other things. But, her mother chose her name because it was the name of a woman in her family that stood up against several white men with a gun to save her husband who had no business doing what he did, but she loved him anyways and stayed strong. She also told her of her other ancestors who didn’t know the meaning of quit and strived for better and better right up until herself. Their cushy house in Linden Hills was a hard fought achievement. Their straight hair, relaxed by perms and the way they dressed and the color of their skin didn’t matter because to her mother, black is black. Being a mother simply meant doing what was best for her child, making sure that her kids were never ashamed of however they looked or whoever they were.

This story demonstrates a lack of communication between mother and daughter as much of this comes out of frustration with the other and finally sitting down to talk about things. I feel like clearer communication between the two on their feelings over their heritage would have sparked more understanding on both of their sides. I don’t think it would have solved all their problems— the mother was really upset over Melanie dropping out of college— but it would have been a start in the right direction.

Lucile (mother) & Serena (daughter)

Lucile spends a great deal of time with Serena while her husband, Eugene, is away doing goddess knows what. When he comes back, Lucile is overjoyed and tries to do anything so that he doesn’t leave again. When she gets pregnant again, she gets and abortion after he gets upset. She looses his job, she offers to pick up another which he also hates— probably because he’s supposed to be the provider but he keeps running into trouble in the pursuit of that. When he expresses his displeasure over Serena getting more attention than him— when she is a baby that needs to be frequently watched and cared for, which he doesn’t seem to understand— Lucile tries to pay more attention to him. Eventually, she tries to make him happy and prevent his leaving so much, the dominos fall on her baby girl. When Eugene comes home to see Mattie and Lucile playing with Serena, he shoos Mattie off and says that Serena could stay right where she is when Mattie offers to take her. Lucile, wanting to please him, agrees and Mattie leaves. Eugene tells Lucile he’s found a job but refuses to give her many details on it. They wind up going to the other room, leaving Serena alone and unwatched. As Eugene refuses to say where he’s going, that he doesn’t want to take the baby and Lucile with him, and that their love isn’t enough to make him stay… Serena, who’d picked up a pair of shiny scissors spotted a cockroach in the wall outlet. Eugene didn’t show up to her funeral. Lucile became catatonic, a deep depression that Mattie needed to coax her out of. Lucile left soon after, taking her clothes and bedspread with her without a goodbye.

This story serves as a warning. Getting hung up on a man who was so upset with their situation, believing Lucile to only be good for “babies and bills” as he states, led to the loss of one of the most precious things to her— Serena’s life. In trying to make her partner stay, to the protest of Mattie who saw much of this situation going down hill and tried to offer advice, Lucile forgot to put her child first. Eugene is also at fault here, of course. A father who refuses to act like one— job or not— and a partner that refuses to stay because of his own discomfort, only ever running away when things don’t go well is essentially useless. Both are supposed to stay for their love and their child through thick and thin. Not doing so has negative consequences on everyone involved and then to not have remorse over it??? Good riddance. While both are at fault, the lesson here is to put ones child first. In my opinion, as well, if the man don’t know how to stay, he doesn’t need to be there in the first place. That’s a lot of going in an out of a child’s life and that instability causes more issues than it solves.

Lorraine (daughter) & Her Mother

Lorraine was kicked out of her house because of her sexuality when she was a teen. Since then, she worked her way through college, found purpose in being a teacher, and met her current partner, Theresa (woman in blue in above picture) where the two had a lovely place in Linden Hills. Or several years, Lorraine would send Christmas cards to her parents, still hoping that they loved her. They’d be returned to her until she stopped putting a return address on them. She assumes they may have threw the cards in the fire. Her parents’ abandonment, especially her mother’s really struck when she tried calling home one day and her mother hung up the phone upon learning it was her daughter on the other end. Her fear of judgment and what being different meant leads to several issues in accepting her own sexuality and the struggles that LGBTQ+ people face in the world. She denies her difference at every turn and gets paranoid and fearful at any rumors that circulate around about her and Theresa, wherever they moved. Lorraine feels wholly uncared for. Later, she’s sexually assaulted by one of the gang members looking to make her right by showing her what a real man is like and make her never look at another woman again. Lorraine is left broken and hysterical in the back alley. When people attempt to help her, she swats them all away with a wood plank she pick up. One unfortunate person was beaten possibly to death because he approached her too quick— it was the man who had a lesbian daughter and comforted Lorraine when she was being discriminated against.

I don’t think I need to expand on this one— in fact it’s hard for me to, I’m lucky I wasn’t thrown out or something. My sexuality just isn’t accepted as a fact.

My first poetry/writing thing

Subway. 

Today at the subway four people walked in. The sweet old lady who regulars here just because she enjoys the little thing. She doesn’t know when to get on or when to leave. She never has anywhere to go but still comes just for the simple pleasure. Then the bitter old lady walked in. Despite being the same age as the sweet old lady, all of her years made her mean and bitter. She spoke few words and they would always be about the troubles of her life and she didn’t need to because the glares she would give to any unsuspecting passenger who got on her nerves would tell you all you needed to know about her. Yet she rides all the same. Next came the new girl of the town. She did not have the years of experience with life as the ladies before her but she had opportunity. She had just moved into the big city with a college deal but had no idea what course she wanted to major in. She had no idea where any thing was in the city so most of her subway activity was going to random places to explore what they were and try to discover what and where she likes. Finally the young man walked in. He wasn’t nearly as old as the old ladies but not as young as the young women so he considered his days of choosing his future long behind him. He didn’t fall into the two caricatures of the old ladies but rather stayed in the middle. He was by all means considered a normal guy with no stand out qualities. But no one viewed that as a negative and even himself knowing how average he is and that he has already chosen his future, he was fine with it because he was happy with his ordinary life. 

And at the same station they all got off. It would have been so easy to make jabs at each other. The old ladies lostness, the bitter ladies anger, the young woman's ditzy behovior, and the young man's averageness, but, none of them did. They boarded the subway different people, and left as equals.