Barfight Revolutions

The name’s Cass, Purveyor of Fine Troubles.

[bakersfield-row]

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

[shaddy-bee]

[televisionenjoyer]

NOOOO THE SIX ORGASMS PERIOD HACK GOT REBLOGS DISABLED JUST AS I TRIED TO REBLOG IT whatever. I'm trying that next period.

[televisionenjoyer]

Rescued media. Fuck it.

[baddywronglegs]

A thing to try: don't make gods for your fantasy TTRPG setting.

Instead, get each player to tell you the god their character follows, then roll a d6 behind the screen.

6: Their god is real, and as powerful as they believe it to be; maybe they even listen to prayers; maybe they even care. Maybe they care more about if your shellfish wear mixed fabrics.

5: It's a real entity, but whose power is exaggerated - like as a river spirit, but they're worshipped thousands of miles away from it for prayers their expertise with rivers leaves them woefully unprepared to answer

4: It's a powerful demon or dragon or monster of some kind which has tricked people into worshipping it - sure it's powerful, but that power is entirely self-serving, it couldn't answer your prayers if it wanted to

3: It's a person who, through real power, political influence or just straight up charisma, has tricked people into worshipping them, or through a series of misunderstandings has been mistaken for a god against their will

2: It was a long-dead person whose legacy has passed into legend - they may once have been a 3, or they may just have been famous in their life and not seen as godly until long after their death

1: Just a wholesale myth with no basis in reality. Maybe your god started off as a cautionary tale a mother made up to stop her children sucking their thumbs and over the retellings the whole "god of war" thing just sort of happened because of the massive scissors, and now the scissors are gone and all that's left is battlefield chants.

And of course, let the players know about this before you roll. Tell them about their odds, but never tell them about their gods.

[jupiterjames]

As many of you know, I moved to a fairly rural college town about a year ago. And with that rural town comes a rural hospital with interns from rural medical schools at rural colleges.

First off, let me say, my care at this hospital, ESPECIALLY considering I am medically complex, has been phenomenal. And I am not, in any way, shading on interns. Becoming a doctor and rounding to rotate in the ER, even a low volume one like mine, is probably one of the hardest Into the Frying Pan jobs there is.

So, when I have flare ups that I can't get under control, I have to go to the ER. No arguing, no "maybe it'll clear up on its own." I HAVE to.

So the intern I get is obviously Very Nervous. And the primary nurse with him looks like she's been working there since before I was born. This is relevant. The nurses all get me hooked up to the monitors and EKG and and IV.

The intern comes in to check all the readings and says, I quote "brb." And drags the first nurse out. And leaves the door open.

Small hospital, not many places to go out of earshot. This was their conversation:

Him : "What do I do?"

Her: "Check the vitals and call in orders after talking to your attending."

Him: "Yeah, I know, but this lady (me) is sat-ing Jesus over Grave Dirt, and has like ten chronic-"

Her: "-two chronic-"

Him: "is on a million medications-"

Her: "-five medications-"

Him: "what do I DO?"

*pause that you can hear the mom face in.*

Her: "Okay, so her BP is terrible, her heart isn't beating right, and she's dehydrated and slightly out of it. Should she be that way?"

Him: "No."

Her: "Okay, great. How about we go in there in fix that?"

Him: *sounding suddenly pumped* "Bet."

The nurse putting in my IV: "Gen Z, you know?" *starts laughing and has to stop poking me for a minute.*

Me: "Well, at least he admitted he didn't know what to do and had a panic attack outside."

IV nurse: "He's been doing good. Probably won't send you to Jesus via Grave Dirt."

[whitepeopletwitter]

[ignoranceishibiscus]

my favorites from the tags

[shyjusticewarrior]

[fakephonenumber]

@socalgal

[swordseer]

Most autistic dog to ever exist

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

*clicks video*

Ah, okay, so it's because he's nervous, right? Or because the shivering is kinda like stimming? Bit stereotypical I guess, but it's true a lot of autistic people do have issues with anxie–

“… until she discovered his love of trains…”

OH NOW IT MAKES SENSE

[loulooser]

Can’t wait to not sleep at all on September 11th

[spinostarz]

i know ur from the uk(?) but reading this as an american is really really funny

[loulooser]

why 😭 it’s about twenty one pilots???? Their new album is out sep 12th????

[jarsjam]

THERE'S TWENTY ONE THIS TIME???

[schmergo]

Whenever I tell people that I dream of playing as many versions of Cinderella’s stepsisters as possible, I have to mention the mildly deranged illegal production of Cinderella I was in when I was 12.

I used to go to this small drama camp as a kid that was entirely run by one nice lady, I believe named Carol. We would put on abridged minimalist versions of popular musicals at a local church with only one week of rehearsal. These weren’t licensable junior versions. Carol created them herself.

She wrote the scripts to include the major plot highlights and famous lines from the various musicals and she arranged and accompanied all of the songs on the piano herself. We did Annie, Mary Poppins, the Wizard of Oz, and, the year before I came, Peter Pan. These shows were definitely illegal, but they were so small that nobody really noticed, and they were a ton of fun. The camp was also extremely affordable, so nobody was getting rich off of it.

But Cinderella, my final production with them, was next-level. When I arrived for the first day of camp, I was curious to see if it would be the Disney version or the Rodgers and Hammerstein version.

It was both. And neither.

Carol somehow wrote an almost entirely original book for Cinderella that used the best songs from both the Disney and R&H versions. That meant that I, as a stepsister, got to sing the “Stepsisters’ Lament,” a peak song if you ask me, but adorable little kids playing mice also got to sing “Cinderelly, Cinderelly.”

The one thing about combining both versions is perhaps an overemphasis on the Fairy Godmother, because the songs “Bibbidy Bobbity Boo” and “Impossible” are both no-brainers to include. But somehow, things worked out perfectly there, too, by splitting the role.

See, we didn’t just have a Fairy Godmother.

We also had a Fairy Godfather.

I was 12, so I didn’t quite get the joke, but as an adult, I’m obsessed with the implication that Cinderella got her dress, slippers, and carriage through some kind of vague affiliation with the mafia.

[beardedmrbean]

[laurasimonsdaughter]

It's not that he only wants to tutor prodigies, not at all, it's just so damn frustrating to try and find someone's innate occult spark while they're dragging their heels all the way.

"Have you heard a word of what I just said?" he sighs.

His student blinks the glazed look out of her eyes. "...yes?"

He rubs his temples. This girl hasn't been able to attune to anything. Not elemental magic, not divination, not healing. None of it seems to even interest her. He even tried to get her into summonings, teenagers always want to do summonings, but she might as well have been reciting grocery lists instead of incantations.

"Look," he says. "Lets go over this chapter again and then we'll take a break, okay? Perhaps you'd like to take a walk, or-"

"No!" she suddenly interrupts him, understanding dawning on her face. "I maybe forgot to eat again."

And to his bewilderment she tears a piece of paper out of her notebook and scribbles a rune circle onto the lined paper. She does it so fast he can't even recognise what core charm she's using and in the second he's distracted she has taken a lancet holder out of her jacket and picks her finger.

"What are you-"

She presses the bead of blood down onto the paper, in the middle of the circle, and before his very eyes both the blood stain and the ink on the paper begin to smoke. They scorch their edges brown until several numbers are burned into the paper where the blood used to be.

"What does that mean?" he asks, dumbfounded.

"That I need a snack to stop zoning out," she says sheepishly, digging a cereal bar out of her bag.

He stares. "Wait, did you just check your blood sugars with that thing?"

The girl looks up at him, chewing. "Mm-hm."

"May I see that?' he gestures and she gives him the paper with a dismissive shrug.

He stares at the sloppy handwriting, the crowded circle of runes. He couldn't recognise the core charm of the circle just now because it's not a standard configuration.

"You designed this yourself?" he asks, trying not to sound incredulous.

"Yeah, I got sick of getting blood work done, you know?"

He slowly places the paper back on the desk. "You use this for more things?" he asks, failing to sound nonchalant.

"Sure. But just to see if I need to take my iron supplements again, or if I'm still on the right dose of estrogen."

He's starting to feel a little lightheaded. "Would you mind showing me what circles you designed for those?"

"Oh its the same as this one," she says, pointing. "I just swap the alchemical symbol for sugar out with the one for iron, or estrogen."

He gapes at her. "There are no alchemical symbols for hormones."

"I know that," she scoffs defensively. "I had to compose one myself."

For a moment he just sits, being silently judged by a pair of increasingly suspicious teenage eyes. Then, with a firm attempt to keep his excitement in check, he closes the textbook and smiles at her.

"I know an occult clinician I think you should meet."

[thedman0310]

[beardedmrbean]

[miiilowo]

FTM PASSING ADVICE

- start wearing typically masculine clothing, like suits with wide shoulders

- people will tell you to not wear pinstripes because it'll make your chest and curves more obvious but think of it as a disguise to throw off their scent, like a zebra. it's urban camouflage

- start callin other men "boss" as a sign of respect

- always make sure to stay safe, keep a switchblade on you or a handgun or something

- consider your diet, work some carbs and fat in there for when T starts workin it's magic. im talkin pasta, pizza, lasagna

- tuck your hair up into a fedora if ya can't cut it

- remember to voice train, if you layer on an accent maybe it'll be less obvious, like a Brooklyn one if you're not already from there

- start snappin your rhythmically and intimidatingly when you find the poor bastard that owes the big man up top that several hundred grand who hasn't paid his dues yet. that'll show em who's the dominant man in the situation

- put a playlist of noir jazz music together and have it playing on your phone in your pocket so it follows you at all times, this is crucial to exuding masculine energy

- don't bind for more than 6-7 hours straight

[the-seelie-court-official]

"that doesn't sound sincere- it sounds rehearsed" is one of the most devastating and fucked-up statements you can make to anyone in the neurodivergent/ADHD/Autistic/Schizophrenic/Disordered Personality sphere. yeah bitch it's rehearsed. because i wanted to get it right when i said it

[beanthebugboi]

I’ve recently discovered how much better life can be when we normalize this. My best friend and I have started saying “hang on, I’m scripting” when we need a minute to mentally rehearse during big conversations (and “bear with me, I’m doing improv” when we’ve reached the end of our script and start to struggle with words lol)

[yardsards]

i was hanging out with someone i had just met and i made reference to the fact that i'm a congenital amputee

and they were like "WAIT THAT'S REAL???"

and i was like HUH

and they were like "oh i have poorly managed psychosis and sometimes hallucinate that the people i'm looking at have the wrong amount of body parts. i just assumed i was hallucinating your hand the whole time i was talking to you"

deeply funny interaction of disabilities here lol

[thestuffedalligator]

If I ever wrote a superhero story I’d want there to be a recurring shitty C-list supervillain in the background whose power was changing something’s colour and all her villainous plots would be colour-themed things like “If the city council doesn’t give me a million dollars, I will turn the city of GREEN Bay into the city of RED Bay!” and she’d turn the Golden Gate Bridge magenta or whatever.

So it’s all low-stakes villainy, but everyone absolutely hates fighting her because her very shitty superpower works really really well, and there are dozens of background characters who’ve fought her that are just permanently green now

[thestuffedalligator]

It’s shit being a superhero when you know that the multiverse exists. You spend all day saving people, you’re tired, you want to go to bed, and right before you fall asleep someone says “The High Evolutionary is going to turn everyone on earth into a werewolf!” and every bone in your body says “Fucking. Maybe we can be the werewolf dimension. The Universe Where Everyone Is A Werewolf. There are infinite dimensions where everyone isn’t a werewolf. It could be fine. It could be good even.”

And you fight the High Evolutionary and you win and your world isn’t the Werewolf Dimension. But the thought was there. God the thought was there