Chuatury Panlunch

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Chuatury Panlunch

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why is banagher so good at getting into places undetected. why did he know how to reprogram his haro to mimic a bomb. why could he do that so fast. banagher what did you get up to before the events of the series.Â
A lot of crime. Probably.
let the unicorn shitposting begin Original image:
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Miomio being appropriately smug for her wife's accomplishments

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if kirby had access to the internet he would go on google images and look at pictures of fruit
kirby and yoshi would send each other emails with cool pictures of fruit attached
They often swap đâ¨
Letâs just all agree that this is an OFFICIAL behind the scenes footage, okay?
The thing is, it is. I donât know if OP knew that, but this is. Actually what happened.
âSo, Kojirouâs crossdressing. Setting aside that time the Rockets dressed gyaru for a moment, when we were making the Rose of Versailles-esque Musashi & Kojirou, we were going to have Musashi wear the (Marie) Antoinette outfit, but it didnât seem like a good fit. Then we tried it out on Kojirou and were like, well, that looks about right. So thatâs where Kojirouâs crossdressing odyssey really began.â
This is an actual pokeani character designers account. This. Literally happened with these exact outfits đ
oh what!!!!!!Â
current thoughts while trying to be social
 to It would be easy to say this is âyet another example of how boomers destroyed culture,â but it would be more apt to blame how capitalismâs exploitation of baby-boomers destroyed culture. In the first couple hundred years or so of the middle classâs existance, young people grew up inside an extended family and learned social roles by emulating their elders. Being a good host or hostess, and a good guest, were values that society recognized as skill-based. Hence, elders actively taught those skills and young people actively learnt them. But come along the baby boom, with an unprecedented combination of wealth and relative numbers, and corporations rushed to define a âteenagerâ market segment that they could profit from directly by separating their demographic off from the more stable âmiddle class familyâ demographic. So âteenage cultureâ emerged, and they myth of the âgeneration gapâ, and baby boomers never learned the more sophisticated skills of being good guests and good hosts. And hence, many of those skills are only available to people who like hiding out in the HM435-HM477 sections of the library stacks. So here are two little hints from my time in the UBC main library, tested and proven over nearly half a century:
1) When you host a gathering, you have a duty of care to your guests. You have a legal duty of care to keep them reasonably safe, and you have a social duty of care to help them be reasonably comfortable. So try to greet each guest as they arrive, remember their name and something interesting about them, and --> introduce them by name to someone else at the party who might find that thing interesting too.<-- Sample script: âBill, I want you to meet Emma. She is restoring a â65 Barracuda, similar to the one you restored.â After your guests are mostly finished arriving, keep an eye on your guests and when one is backed into a corner behind the potted palm looking miserable, go fetch them and introduce them to someone else. Sample script:Â âOh, Phyllis, there you are! Have you met Toby yet? Toby! You should really tell Phyllis about your pet tortoise!â 2) When you are a guest and you get buttonholed in this way, help out your host by at least pretending to be interested in â65 Barracudas or pet tortoises, and asking the other guest something. Ask them anything. Or if you see the guy moping behind the potted palm before your host does, approach them and ask them something. The key is, use the words âwhatâ or âwhereâ or âhowâ to ask the question, rather than âdo/did ...?â That way they cannot simply, desperately, answer âyesâ or ânoâ and have to tell you something you can build on. And donât worry about ânot wanting to pryâ. People tend to really like to talk about themselves, provided you give them leeway to decide what part of themselves to talk about. Sample script: âLucky you! How did you manage to get your hands on a â65 Barracuda/pet tortoise?â Or if you didnât get a prompt from your busy host, âWhat canapĂŠs are the tastiest?â or the old standbys Sample script: âwhat school do you go to/what are you studying/what do you do in your spare time when youâre not at a cocktail party?â
You can actually memorize just one of these open-ended questions and use it in nearly every circumstance; and then follow up by noticing what the answer makes you curious about, and asking that. Enjoy.
the thing about blackwashing the pjo characters in particular is that it is completely justified in the facts that a) pjo itself has exactly 1 black character, and that character dies in an explosion, so it's not like black fans have many options for characters to project onto, and b) race isn't a major part of any of the pjo's characters' storylines.
Whitewashing Leo, Piper, and Hazel is a problem not just because it takes away valuable and scarce representation, but because it also just doesn't make sense with their lives. Leo speaks Spanish with his mom, and the two of them lived humble lives. Those are distinctly Mexican experiences. Piper's storyline involves discovering her own self-worth through an attachment with her culture. Hazel's childhood wouldn't make any sense whatsoever if she were white. The exception here is Frank, who doesn't have a very strong connection with his culture, but whose identity is still important to young Asain people who grew up loving to have a character that looks like them.
Meanwhile, if you interpret Percy as Afro-Latino, absolutely nothing in the story is contradicted. Nothing changes. Actually, it makes perfect sense, considering the fact that his neighborhood is densely populated by Latine people. Even with Annabeth, no part of her story stops making sense if she is a PoC, considering that the gods seem to canonically be able to produce offspring with unnatural eye/hair colors, with Piper (who would traditionally have brown eyes) having multicolored irises.
TLDR: Blackwashing and whitewashing are two very different things, and even if you're an "authorial intent" kind of person, nothing in the books outright states the race of many major white characters.

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appreciation post for this one timbercat from kipo & the age of wonderbeasts. THIS is peak character design
Ena time
awesome story. black doctors and nurses are the best.
We need more of this
I'm not a PoC but this is just incredible, *exceptional*, culturally sensitive patient care, period. Absolutely should be shared with every healthcare professional I know.
We should always keep in mind that we are treating an entire person, not simply their condition, and the effects seemingly minor kindnesses can have on them long after they leave our care.
If you want to support black doctors who are just starting out, Farrah-Amoy Fullerton, a fourth-year med student at the University of Alabama at Birmingham just set up a way for people to help black fourth year med students transition to their residencie. This often means moving to a new city where they won't get a paycheck for weeks. Black students are also less likely to have access to generational wealth to keep them afloat during school. So if you have a few bucks and want to buy a graduation gift for a future black doctor, check out this article or search #medgradwishlist on twitter.
Modern papyrus makers. [source]
this is his etsy store. heâs selling prints and also the papyrus paper !
Whatâs interesting to me is that I was noticing a lot of the behavior in the Before Times that other people are noticing now due to the pandemic. People (mostly, but certainly not exclusively, men) wandered about life, completely oblivious, it seemed to the fact that other people were also trying to go about their business. I even tried (in the Before Times) to let go of my constant awareness of other peoplesâ distance, velocity, route, etc. and just chill. And you know what happened? People just walked right into me, A LOT. Many elbows went into my sides, running children would go slamming into my basket (not my CART, mind you, the basket I was holding at my side). Americans, at least, simply do not seem to go through life considering that there are other human beings that they might impact, for the most part. People will fucking sneeze into their hands and then use the self check-out machine. They will reach from behind you and brush against your gotdang face to grab something on the shelf in front of you. They will cuss you out because you did not get out of their way, moron! as you were minding your business reading the ingredients on a can. They will knock a bottle of oil onto the floor, briefly glance at the puddle of slipperiness spreading across the aisle, and continue about their day.
Iâm sorry that this person (and many other people) are suddenly having to be aware of and paying attention to the behaviour of those around them, and that this situation is distressing to them. But some of us have always had to be acutely aware of other people, because having your foot run over by a full cart of groceries because your attention wavered from the dude next to you for a second fuckimg HURTS. Or because youâre concerned that maybe the grandma with a cane and the puddle of canola oil taking up most of the aisle sheâs wobbling down are a bad combination.Â
There have been a few comments on this post about how people who didnât think this way about this type of behavior in the Before Times are ignorant, and I think itâs worth mentioning here some of the context behind this post. It doesnât negate these concerns, but I still think itâs important.
Twitter OPÂ went into this idea more in depth in his podcast. He is an advocate for menâs mental health and related how he has spent a long time actively working to stop caring so much about the actions of people around him for a reason. He realized that, due to his intense anxiety and low self esteem, he was constantly assuming that he was being judged and judging people in turn.Â
In a previous time, he said, if he saw someone who looked really trendy for example, he would feel dumpy in comparison and project his bad feelings about himself on the other person, thinking âI bet this guy is a prick; I bet he thinks heâs so specialâ etc. He would be seething over someone who had done nothing wrong, his self-worth would plummet further, then he would find himself having a panic attack in the store because he assumed other people were thinking the same things about him, and then he would be in a depressive agoraphobia cycle.
He said that in normal times, his always feeling angry about other peopleâs behavior was something that could be worked through with therapy, because it was often an irrational response to something innocuous. But in this covid situation, he was struggling with the fact that these extreme negative thoughts were actually valid. He couldnât psychoanalyze them away, because these people are pricks and do think theyâre so special, and their actions do have real, deadly consequences. So he was expressing concern that this aspect of his mental health was really suffering and bringing him back to a place he didnât want to be in where he was feeling anxious and neurotic about everyone, and that there wasnât much he could do about it.

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Being a trans woman can be so irritating when it comes to how people talk (in english at least) like people calling you âdudeâ or âbroâ and referring to groups youâre in as âguys.â Itâs something cis women have taken issue with at times, but I think itâs undeniable how directly it affects trans women. Either weâre the bitch who has to ruin everybodyâs fun and ask not to be referred to with these words or we say nothing and wonder if weâre being viewed as men, or if they really are one of those people who âjust call everybody dudeâ because often times we arenât able to verify that. Then youâll have people who will undermine you when you choose to be that bitch, who will suggest you let it go, that you make the favorable assumption every time. You already took a risk in standing up for yourself and now theyâre making you seem wrong for it. It hurts. It hurts even more when it comes from someone you considered an ally, or even another trans woman. Just, if youâre one of those people who talk that way, or have/have wanted to tell us to let it go, consider what experience(s) weâve been through that has led us to not be able to let it go.
I try my best but I am very guilty of calling people âdudeâ or âbruhâ (if I know them and I am trying to be funny). If at any point this bothers you or makes you uncomfortable, you are NOT that Bitch to say so! Tell me and I will gladly course correct.
SAME I DO THAT tell me if I call you the wrong thing!!
See the problem here is you are still putting the trans woman in the situation where they do have to be That Bitch. The reason I said to consider why we do this was in hopes of people understanding the situation using those words puts us in (one where we are taking a risk and often feel like a bitch, even if you donât think so) and understanding why some of us feel we need to stand up for ourselves in that situation despite that. If you really want to make a change, stop referring to women with these words. Some trans women may not mind but continuing to treat these words as gender neutral negatively affects the rest who then get put in these situations by you. Find alternatives to use instead.
I had a teacher in high school do this, heâd refer to the (all male class but me) as boys, guys, etc. It pissed me off so i went to the guidance counselor. He said heâd change it but in retaliation he gave me a dress code violation. Fucking prick
when she was sorted into gryffindor, she was excited and nervous, because she was a muggleborn and wasnât quite sure what that meant. but everyone was smiling and clapping, and she grinned at the sea of smiling faces dressed in red.
she was given a place in the boys dorm, and that seemed right to her at the time. but in her fourth year, she began to wonder if the out-of-place feeling she had wasnât just her anxiety and awkwardness, but something else. when she realised she was a girl, it felt like she had blossomed into the world, to face it as a finished person. she told people that summer - texts to her muggle friends, owls to the wizards, and everyone was happy for her. for days she couldnât do anything without the beep of her phone, or the peck of an owl at the window.
when she came back to hogwarts, and went to her dorm, she turned the other way. towards the girls dorm, where she had a place ready for her, picked out by her friends. she felt that same tight nervousness she felt when she was sorted, the pounding in her chest, the shaky hands. but she told herself to be calm. she was going to do this.
she put her foot on the bottom step. and then the next. and then the next.
the voice inside her head that had been telling her that hogwarts wouldnât realise who she was shut up. she whispered a thank you to the steps, a small word that only the castle heard. then she ran up the rest of the stairs, a grin emblazoned on her face, new robes swirling behind her, ready to start the next year at school.
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he was fifteen when it happened. he had been questioning for a while, but he wasnât sure. he didnât want to call himself a boy, not yet. a part of him was urging himself to just go for it, because he knew who he was, if he really thought about it. but he was hesitant, and didnât define himself.
then it happened. one night, when he was alone, he was going back upstairs, when he slipped. his hand steadied himself on the rough stone wall, and he looked down to see what had happened. one of the steps was slanted, just enough to make him trip. it wiggled a bit, then made itself into a step, as if nothing had happened. he frowned at it at the time, and went up to bed, but the memory of the incident lingered days after. and weeks.
he remembered it later, when he sat up all night thinking of how he didnât belong here, in the girls dorms. he didnât want to label himself, but heâd been more and more out of place, and he knew who he was, really. when he stopped telling himself that he wasnât.
it wasnât too long before he told everyone. he felt like shouting it from the rooftops, flying over the castle with his new name on a banner. he didnât, though. he just settled for casual chats with the people he knew and an awkward owl to his professors.
and one night, after heâd settled in to the boys dorms, he put a foot on the bottom step of the girls staircase. instantly, the bricks flattened themselves into a slide. he grinned, and carried on up to his new room in the boys dorms.
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they always knew they didnât quite fit into any of the genders they knew. they werenât quite a boy, werenât quite a girl, but they didnât have the words to express what they felt. it was only after a few years at hogwarts (and a lengthy google search one night at home) that they learned the word ânonbinaryâ, and realised that there was a word for it, after all.
they decided to be casual about it at school. the people that they trusted knew, and some of the teachers. but it wasnât as though they had a separate dorm just for them, soÂ
exceptâŚ
one day, when they were heading up to sleep, they saw a door. it was on the stairs to the dorms - girls went one way, boys went the other, with a blank wall in the middle. except it wasnât blank, not then. there was a door. they asked their friends about it, but just got strange looks in return. but every time they climbed those stairs, the third door was there.
the next year brought a new wave of first-years, and they joined a group helping the kids out with navigating hogwarts. they were showing a group the way to the dungeons when one asked them what the third door was for. you know, the one between the girls and boys dorms. they froze, and looked down at a nervous first-year who was, even then, getting odd looks from their classmates.
they opened it together, the first-year and them. turned out it was another dorm. the beds were made, light shone through the windows, and the whole room seemed to beckon, invitingly. the first-year was ecstatic, and they found themself smiling too. the pair of them moved in the next day, and began to set up their own little space.
after they moved in, everyone could see the door. and slowly, the dorm began to fill up. kids from all years claimed beds there, older kids who had been too nervous to try the door, younger kids who were thrilled that it existed. they were the first, so they were looked up to, and they were happy they had.
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help will always be given by hogwarts, you see. even for those who donât know they need it.